He convinced me this could be more. And I was naïve enough to believe him.
“Nora,” he says again, standing in the doorway as I pull on my sneakers and grab my purse from beside the door.
“What, Dex?” I spin to face him, tears still streaking down my cheeks.
I wait for him to say something, to apologize, to use this last opportunity to make things right.
But all he does is frown.
A fresh wave of tears gathers on my lower lashes, and then I flee from his house, barely managing not to slam the door on my way out.
chapter 22
I SPENT ALL OF YESTERDAY crying. Margot cuddled me on the couch while I binged shows and lost myself in a video game—not Legend of Volthorn, because that reminded me too much of Dex—and she’s the only thing that’s bringing me any sort of comfort this morning.
She and I are still lying in bed at nine o’clock, which is incredibly rare for me, but I can’t seem to drag myself out from under the covers. My body hurts, and my eyes are swollen and tender from crying. A few tears still sneak down my cheeks, but I’m mostly cried out. Even my breakup with College Boyfriend didn’t feel like this, and we were an actual couple, not just two people who know each other’s middle names and had sex twice.
But Dex dug such a deep hole in my heart that I don’t know how I’m going to fill it. He drifted through my defenses like smoke, and just when I started to think maybe it was okay to let him in, he did exactly what I expected from the very beginning.
Part of me wants to feel vindicated for getting it right, for knowing all along that he’d never pick me. But the other part, the part that has me in its hold right now, just wants to fall into pieces.
Margot is curled against my side, her furry body like a little furnace beneath the covers, and she grunts in disapproval when I reach for the phone on my nightstand. My stupid heart hopes maybe he texted last night after I fell asleep, but when the phone screen illuminates, I don’t have any missed calls or messages.
What I do have are bruises around both wrists, and seeing them makes a wave of sadness crash through me. I touch one gently, feel the slight ache, and remember how Dex wrapped his chain around my delicate skin, how he pulled my arms over my head and took me to the peak of ecstasy.
Pushing the image away, I swipe the screen to unlock it and navigate to my social media feed, too exhausted to stop myself.
And it’s a terrible, terrible decision.
Because the very first thing I see is Dex—with Serena White on his arm.
They’re leaving some stupid-expensive restaurant, and he looks so good I physically ache.
Beside him, Serena is perfection. She’s wearing a red dress and strappy heels, and her blond hair gleams in the paparazzi’s flashing lights. Dex has one hand up, trying to shield himself from the lights, but Serena is looking straight into the camera, smiling like she knows just how gorgeous she is.
Because she does.
My gaze drifts to the notification bubble in the upper-right corner, and again, against my better judgement, I tap it.
Immediately, my screen is overflowing with messages about how pathetic I am and how Dex finally came to his senses and went back to Serena. I know I should stop, but my thumb keeps scrolling, and each hateful message drives the knife deeper and deeper into my heart.
The last message does me in.
Like we didn’t all know where this was going.
And it hurts because it’s true. I saw it, and so did everyone else. But I let myself become blinded by Dex, by his casual confidence and easy conversation, by the taste of his skin and his weight between my thighs.
The phone starts to ring, and it’s my mom. I still haven’t called her back, but she’s texted a few times. I can’t keep ignoring her like this.
So I clear my throat, sit up in bed, and put the phone on speaker.
“Hello?” I say, trying not to let my voice betray the pain squeezing my chest in a vise.
There’s a moment of silence, and then, “Nora, what’s wrong?”
I thought I was all cried out, but the tears are making a comeback, and they’re coursing down my cheeks again.
“Baby, what happened?” Her voice is so soft, so comforting.
I can’t hold this all in. Someone needs to know—how I loved him, and how he broke my heart.
So I tell her. I tell her all of it.
IT’S MARCH NOW, AND DEX still hasn’t reached out.
I went to the fitting for the music video two weeks ago, and when Ashton saw me, the first thing she did was wrap me in a hug. It’s not like I ever told her about what was happening between me and Dex, but she seemed to know, and her embrace made me feel seen, especially considering Dex is acting like I no longer exist.
I’d hoped to enjoy the fitting, to be excited about all the pretty clothes I’ll get to wear, but I sat through it silently, let them measure me and discuss colors and fabrics until a woman whose name I never did ask waved me down from the platform and told me I was done. I couldn’t wait to get away from the mirror; the whole time I stood there looking into it, all I could see were flaws: my dull brown hair, the scars on my cheeks from acne I had in high school, my pale legs. And then I thought of Serena, of her vibrance and beauty and perfection, and it almost brought me to tears again.
Now I’m driving to some address Ashton texted me, and I’m feeling more nervous than I did the first time I went to play with the band.
We’re filming the music video today. Dex is going to be there, and we still haven’t spoken a word to each other since that morning. My stomach feels like it wants to be sick, and I barely ate anything for breakfast because my nausea was so bad.
What am I going to say to him? Will he even speak to me? Will he pretend like nothing happened between us?
His voice whispers in my mind, I wanna be your first everything.
