We finish our coffee, and I take both mugs into the house to pour a second cup. The sun is creeping higher in the sky, chasing the chill from the air.
I’ve just filled our mugs and am frothing the oat milk when I hear a small ping. Dex’s phone is on the marble countertop next to me, screen up. I have no intention of prying, would never even consider going through his phone, but the face on the screen is familiar.
Serena White.
The text message bubble is clear and crisp. I couldn’t stop myself from reading it even if I wanted to.
Hey, baby. Can’t wait to see you tonight.
There’s a sudden rushing in my ears, and my stomach is in knots.
Is he getting back with her?
Has he been with her this whole time?
Looking up, I find Dex standing beside the pool, his back to me, the sunlight limning his dark figure in gold. My eyes mist over.
He’s so beautiful. Too beautiful for me. Of course he’d pick her.
I briefly imagine Serena standing next to him, with her long blond hair and tan legs, and suddenly, I don’t feel so pretty anymore, don’t understand how I could ever be the object of his desire.
The coffee turns sour in my stomach. I have to get out of here before I make more of a fool of myself than I already have.
Hands trembling slightly, I finish pouring Dex’s second coffee, then take it to him on the patio, feeling like there’s a lump in my throat.
“Here you go,” I say, and when he reaches over to take it, he’s smiling. Until he sees my face.
“What’s wrong?” His forehead furrows, sandy brows pulling together in concern.
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
Dex reaches out, and his fingers are warm from the coffee mug when he touches my skin. “Like that.”
Tears try to burst into my eyes, but I fight them down.
I want this.
I want this so, so bad.
A tiny spark flickers to life in my chest when I think that maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe her message doesn’t mean what I think it means.
“Little Monster,” he whispers, taking my chin and tilting my head back so I’ll meet his eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it otherwise.”
The words rise like fire in my throat, fighting over one another to get out. But I push them down, try to sort through all the emotions until I can focus on the one question that’ll answer everything.
“What is this?” I whisper. My eyes search his. “What am I to you?”
I want him to pull me in for a kiss, to tell me I’m his Little Monster.
But my stomach drops when he releases my chin, and I swear it’s like a curtain is drawn in his eyes, hiding everything that’s going on backstage.
And before he says a word, I know what’s happening.
He’s shutting me out. And for some reason, all I can think is that it’s my fault.
Not pretty enough. Not fun enough. Not rich enough.
“I . . .” Dex takes a physical step back from me. The distance is enough to punch me square in the gut. “I didn’t realize you needed to put a label on this.”
A label? A label?
Pain flares in my chest, burns through me, and this time when the tears try to rise, I can’t fight them back. They swim in my eyes before slipping silently down my cheeks. The morning breeze makes the moisture feel cool on my skin, though inside I’m burning up.
“Nora,” he says.
No more nickname? No more wanting to be my first everything?
I won’t tell him—or anyone—but suddenly, standing here beside the pool with DTLA waking up in the distance, Dex’s blue eyes pinned on me, I come to the realization that he’ll be another one of my firsts.
My first heartbreak.
Before he can say anything else, I whirl around and sprint into the house. While striding through the living room, I yank his hoodie off over my head, then ball it up and fling it onto the back of the couch.
That word, label, keeps ringing through my head. I knew this would happen, knew I could never be more to him than a quick fuck. But he kissed my shoulders in the shower, played with my damp hair as we fell asleep.
