Page 11 of Pretty Obsessed

“Listen, Taylor Swift is a musical genius, and her last album was all fiction, not pain!”

“Okay, fair, but still, can you?”

He was already shaking his head. “No, I don’t think I could fake it. I write me into everything I do. She is a much more talented writer than I am to be able to fake those feelings. Maybe if I call her, she’ll teach me her ways.”

“Not after Cas and her…” I made a face and Iris cringed.

“That was a misunderstanding, but I still wouldn’t want to be in the same room with those two.” He laughed, seeming lighter already. “I should fake date her to piss people off.”

“Noooo. Don’t do that to the fans. They’d think it was a love triangle with all the stuff they assume about you and Cas.”

Iris recoiled, like my words struck a physical blow. “I don’t want to do that to myself. If I get asked one more time what it’s like to fall asleep in Cas’ arms I’m gonna tell them I don’t know about Cas but you smell like butterflies and honey lilies and whisper sweet nothings in my ear when I’m hung over.”

“That was one time!”

Iris blinked and then burst out laughing. “Don’t play with my drug-addled brain. I nearly believed you.”

“You would, too.” I shook my head. “I will attend to your needs if you require, but we can’t ever be in love.”

He gasped clutching his chest. “Are you saying I’m unloveable? I knew it. My only friend is my existential dread.”

“Oh God, you’re going to turn that into a song aren’t you?”

“You never know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know if I should do more drugs and try to actually sleep or walk off this melancholy.”

“Why do you simultaneously speak like a seventy-year-old man and an emo fourteen-year-old?”

“Says the dude I’ve heard say drats and bollocks.”

“Bad habits. We all have them.” He knew why I didn’t curse. Iris knew everything about me. We’d bonded over abuse, as sad as it might be. "No Cas tonight?" I wanted to say: 'no orgy tonight?' but decided against it. I had no desire to make the situation worse.

He picked up his head and searched my face. "No."

I wouldn't press. Iris came to talk to me when he needed an outlet. He was in my room for a reason. Cas might be close with him, but I was his safe space.

“Where were you?” Iris asked when I didn't say more.

“Around."

"Sounds interesting…" He rubbed his boney hands together, the jitters taking him. “Did you have fun?”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and waffling with explaining how my night had been. I trusted Iris to keep my secrets, but it felt hard to admit to anyone, including myself. I hadn’t told anyone about my little excursions or what I’d sworn off. They thought I was weird enough for being straight edge. No sex was an entirely different level of masochist.

"The experience was satisfying. The aftermath less than," I admitted, not entirely sure how to convey any of it, even if I left out genders. The entire thing seemed out there even to a guy I knew went to orgies regularly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He studied me. “Did you kill a hooker? We have people for that. Although you have to promise to let me see Alexander’s face when you tell him.”

Alexander was our manager and a bit of a control freak. He didn’t like a situation he didn’t know about from the start. It was good at times, and really annoying when he was trying to micromanage every part of our lives, claiming they affected our career.

“He would have a fit.” I let out the breath I’d been holding since the club. "Yes…no… I haven't processed it yet."

"Talking it through might help."

“Says the keeper of all the secrets.”

“I told you, I’m keeping it in my black soul for musical purposes.” He pushed to his feet, knees wobbly. He looked like he'd lost more weight. "I need a smoke."

If this tour didn't kill him… But I couldn't go there. I couldn't do a single thing. I felt so helpless when it came to Iris' misery.

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