My heart leaps into my throat. I sit upright, giving my iPod a double take, but the screen still shows Brahms: The Symphonies as Now Playing—even though the Cure’s “Lovesong” is the melody filling my ears. Our song.
And then I hear something else. His voice over my shoulder, singing along quietly, just like he used to. I rip off the earbuds and whirl around, holding my breath. Could it possibly be—?
Of course not. The room is as empty as it was when I walked in. I sink back onto the bed, weakened with disappointment.
Yet I could swear I still hear him humming.
OCTOBER 25, 2016
I wake up with my phone in my hand, waiting for a text that will never come. I don’t even remember falling asleep. I’m still wearing yesterday’s school uniform, and my contact lenses feel like glue in my eyes from sleeping in them.
“Nicole!” There’s a pounding at my door. It’s Brianne, her voice sounding flustered.
As I heave myself up to a sitting position, the horror of yesterday comes rushing back to me all at once. I cry out, gripping the bed frame. No, it wasn’t a nightmare. It’s a new reality I’ll be forced to get used to, morning after morning.
“Nicole, let me in!”
I push myself off the bed and make my way to the door, still in a daze. But when I open it, I’m in for a shock. Brianne isn’t alone. A crowd of girls is clustered in the hallway behind her, all of them watching me like I’m some kind of main attraction, their eyes probing and hawklike. Two of Lana’s minions, Kara and Jen, are among them, their arms folded aggressively as they stare me down. What the hell? I close the space in the doorway so that only Brianne can slip inside. She pushes past the voyeurs and slams the door behind her, then leans against it, catching her breath.
“What’s going on? What are they doing out there?” I ask her.
“Sit down,” she orders.
I sink back onto the bed, staring at my friend in confusion. She grabs my laptop off the desk, types something into the search window, and then thrusts it in my lap. I take one look at the screen—and my heart stops. I jump up in panic, letting the laptop crash to my feet. No, no, no.
It’s our photos. They’re on the front page of Google News, underneath the boldfaced headline, “The Case of Chace Porter and the Girl in the Picture.” I stare at the article in disbelief as the room begins to spin.
Someone got their hands on our photo strip—and now anyone and everyone can see me sitting in Chace’s lap, his lips on my shoulder. It’s all there, in permanent color ink.
“How did this happen?” I whisper. It hurts to see the photos again and remember what I’ve lost—as if I could forget—but it’s even harder to wrap my mind around the loss of our private moment, the broadcasting of our secret. My mind flashes through a series of imagined reactions to the pictures: my mom’s shock, his parents’ confusion and pain, Lana’s fury. She’s going to kill me over this, I realize, and then it hits me that it’s no exaggeration. She might actually kill me.
“Exactly. How did this happen?” Brianne gestures at the fallen laptop. “You guys were going out behind her back? How could you lie to me for so long? You always acted like you barely knew him, and now this….” She trails off, shaking her head in disbelief.
I ignore her questions. I don’t know what I can possibly say so that she’ll understand. “How did these get out?” I ask instead.
“I don’t know, but they’re everywhere,” Brianne warns me. “TMZ broke the story and it took off from there.”
I try to breathe, bending over and lowering my head to my knees.
“Nicole.” Brianne’s tone softens slightly. “What happened?”
“It was messed up,” I say under my breath, avoiding eye contact. “That’s why I didn’t tell you, or anyone else.”
“I thought you and Lana were friends,” she says, giving me a funny look. “Did you forget those months last year when I barely saw you outside orchestra, since you were so busy with Lana and her group? Why would you do this to her?” Brianne’s eyes harden with recognition. “I guess now I know why you came running back to us.”
I flinch.
“It’s not what you think. I’m sorry, I never meant—” I close my eyes, take a deep breath, try to explain. “We fell in love. It was real, the kind of thing you can’t fight. It’s just that simple. There wasn’t anything malicious about it.” The words sound familiar as they come out of my mouth, like a rehearsed speech, and then I remember: this is exactly how we put it to Lana, before the end of junior year. Tears well in my eyes, and I cover my face with my palms.
Brianne pats my shoulder awkwardly. I can tell she’s trying to be there for me, but she’s beyond thrown by all of this. She doesn’t recognize her friend anymore.
“But, Nicole…if it’s what you’re saying, if it was real love, then why were you sneaking around behind Lana’s back? Why didn’t you just tell her the truth instead of—instead of him cheating on her?”
“We did,” I whisper. “It wasn’t cheating. We were going to be together, but—but then—” I gesture to my face.