Page 50 of Unloved

I wait for Freddy to deny it, but he doesn’t even look surprised by the statement.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters in the same sarcastic way he always says those two words. “Still, I’ve got a test to pass, so…” He lets the words hang, spreading his arms over the stacks of papers and textbooks around our workspace.

So go away, I imagine he wants to say.

“Just come over when you finish.” Brandon waves him off. “I bet Ro wants to come, too. Right, babe?”

Something in his words has Freddy stiffening and rising to sit a little taller. His face is menacing, frustrated and angry.

“Knock it off.”

“Please, Freddy, you have plenty of girls waiting for you. I can keep Ro company. In fact, I need some tutoring help myself.” His gaze switches back to me, and he drops to his elbows so his face is suddenly too close to mine.

I suck in a shocked breath, trembling in discomfort. My body wants to move away, but I’m frozen, eyes drilling holes in the wood between my spread palms.

“I’ll even stay after class and show you how—”

“Fuckoff,” Freddy snaps, shoving up from his seat aggressively. Brandon matches his stance, expression wary.

“Chill, Freddy. I was joking.” He looks over at me. “I didn’t mean—”

“I have a boyfriend,” I blurt, closing my eyes. “And we’re over our time already, and Freddy isn’t coming to the party right now. So if you wouldn’t mind leaving.”

I shuffle the papers in front of me as a distraction and an excuse not to make eye contact with Brandon as he apologizes again and leaves us in a bloated silence.

Freddy looks sick, face pale as he sits back across from me. Anxiety crawls up my spine; I’m unsure if I overstepped, if I did something wrong.

“Freddy?”

“Sorry—I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “God, I hate that guy.”

“He was kinda rude,” I say, playing with my manicured green nails. “I’m—why did he say that?”

The question spills out before I can stop myself, but I can’t look at Freddy when he says, “Because he’s an entitled asshole and you’re beautiful. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable. I didn’t know you and Ty—”

“No,” I say, cutting him off, raising my head to meet his eyes. “I mean… about the OnlyFans?”

Freddy grimaces at the reminder and I’m seconds away from taking it back, sayingnever mindand moving right along with our next math problem, when he speaks.

“It’s not mine. I’ve seen it, and whoever it is has the same tattoo on his thigh, but it’s not me.” He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and shakes it slightly, another weird, half-broken noise that sounds more like a cry than a laugh blurts from him. “People talk. It’s just a rumor.”

He chuckles, a forced laugh, and wipes a hand over his face. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me. But it’s not mine.”

“Why don’t youtellpeople it’s not yours?”

He shrugs, like none of this matters. “It’s a rumor about me. One of thousands—it doesn’t affect me.”

Only, clearly, it does. I shake my head, a million previous interactions shooting through my brain. His hesitance to ask for help, his constant insistence of his stupidity, and now this?

“You’re… you’re more concerned about people knowing you struggle to read than you are about an OnlyFans account that’s not even yours?”

His mouth opens and closes a few times, before settling on, “Yeah. Can we stop talking about this?”

It’s the harshest he’s ever been with me directly. I shut my mouth, despite wanting to push him on this.

He only just became your friend. Give him time.

“Okay.”

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