Page 53 of His Secret Obsession

When Hugo hangs up, I listen to the tone for a few seconds as I stare out at the lights illuminating the town. I’m six hours away from the city. I’m helpless to whatever’s happening back in the apartment.

I inhale deeply, deep enough to make my chest rise with the breath. It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m only stressed because I’m focused on the worst possible scenario.

I take a step back towards the restaurant. Then, because I’m weak, I make another phone call.

“Hello?” Lucas’s voice is deep, even over the phone.

“Hi,” I say, then notice the absence of noise in the background. “Where are you?”

“My room. The others are really loud.”

I run my tongue around the inside of my mouth and try to sound nonchalant. “Right, you’re having a boys’ night.”

“Mm.”

“And Cleo’s there.”

“Mm.” Everything I need to know about what he thinks is clearly communicated in that noise. I feel like there’s a heavy stone in my gut.

“Lucas?” I ask, voice slightly higher than usual.

“Yes?”

Be nice to Cleo. Be polite.

No.

Have fun. Have a good night.

No.

“Nothing,” I eventually say. “Bye.”

I hang up.

I stare at nothing for who knows how long. My moping is interrupted when Nate opens the restaurant doors. “Hey!” he calls. “Food’s been served.”

I follow Nate inside and force a smile for the table.

*

By the time I drive everyone home—Mum, Dad and Jemima are wine-drunk—I’m distracted enough that I forget all about Cleo and the Melbourne apartment.

It’s only when I’m in bed, eyelids heavy and tired from eating so much good food, that I start to panic again after receiving a message from Lucas.

Lucas: Yo. Can you tell your girlfriend to leave me alone?

Instantly, my body is alert. I type out a response.

Charlie: What do you mean? What’s going on?

He doesn’t respond for a few minutes before a blurry image comes through. All of the shapes are smeared, and the angle is strange, as if Lucas took the photo discreetly. I squint at the screen. It was taken in Lucas’s room no doubt — those are his black bed sheets. And on top of those black sheets are a pair of slim, slightly tanned legs. The photo catches a bit of her denim skirt before the image cuts off.

Cleo.

She’s sitting on Lucas’s bed, legs hanging over the edge. The pose looks relaxed, not that I can really tell that much from the image.

So Lucas took a photo of this and sent it to me. Why?

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