Page 42 of Desserts for Stressed People

Alex:

You now.

That’s all his text says.You now.As in, it’s my turn to send pictures of my genitalia. Seriously, you’d expect someone to bother with a whole sentence when they’re asking a stranger for nudes.

My nails dig into the palm of my left hand as I resist the temptation to call his mother and tell her what her precious son has been up to. I open the chat in a rush, my brain hazed with fury, then type that I will not send him anything of the sort, and that frankly, I could have done without his dick pics. But instead of sending it, I delete the message.

And type something much worse.

Nevaeh:

I won’t send you any nudes. Let’s meet and I’ll show you everything.

Closing my eyes, I pass both hands over my face as I’m hit by a wave of nausea. I’ve officially lost my mind.

I know this is why I’ve done all of this to start with. To catch him in the act and show him how it feels to be played. To have someone stomp on your trust, to be betrayed by the person you counted on the most. But I wasn’t supposed to do it now. I was supposed to wait until I got my raise and I could kick him to the curb. Am I seriously not surviving the first two weeks?

As I stare at the phone, the three dots appear.

I’m officially catfishing my boyfriend.

* * *

“Wait.You’ve agreed...to meet—morrow...night?” Olivia asks, her voice coming out all weird from the speakers of Emma’s computer.

I grab a piece of sushi, dip it into the soy sauce and bring it to my lips. “Yes,” I say as I chew.

Emma’s smile disappears, and Olivia’s shocked gape, taking up most of Emma’s screen, morphs into a similar frown. “Oy, Heaven. This is such a bad idea.”

“What?” I ask with a bitter smile. “Catfishing my boyfriend with your pictures or agreeing to meet him, knowing I’ll likely be homeless soon?”

Emma huffs. “Olivia, you don’t know this guy. He has it all coming for him.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t. I’m sure he does. But what will you do with the apartment?”

I lean back against the chair as I study my best friends. We always do this—well, as often as we can. We have sushi and chat. Emma and I here at her apartment, and Olivia all the way in Sydney with a video call. When she used to live here, we would go to a new sushi restaurant every week, so we’ve kept the tradition going as best as we could.

“I don’t know. To be honest, I wasn’t thinking straight. Come on, guys. Dick pics.” I shake my head, and both my friends follow suit.

“What’s the plan?” Emma asks.

I go for another piece of sushi, this one with tuna and mayonnaise. “He suggested that we meet him tomorrow night at ten in a bar in the center.”

“What bar?” Olivia asks.

“Red Cube.”

Emma taps her chin. “Red Cube? Isn’t that the one by the Silverton Hotel?”

Olivia gasps. “Wait—the hotel you saw him at, one month ago?” she asks Emma.

When Emma nods, I focus on Olivia again. “With that woman he said was his colleague. Yes, that’s the one.” Maybe that’s his MO. He meets the girls at Red Cube, then invites them to his room.

“Where did he tell you he’ll be?”

“He didn’t say anything, but he’s always out on Fridays. Playing football until two in the morning.” I scoff. What an idiot I’ve been, believing him blindly when he said he and the boys just stayed out for a few drinks after every game.

“So you’ll go there and...what?”

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