Page 14 of Flag On The Play
Roxy whistles. “Damn right you do.”
Delaney nods approvingly. “Proud of you. Also, I made vodka sauce. It felt appropriate.”
I sigh and finally sit all the way down, my bones aching from both the heels and the emotional whiplash. “He gets under my skin. Always has. And I hate that he still has that power.”
“He doesn’t,” Delaney says gently, sitting beside me and passing over a fork. “You took control of the story tonight. He’s still trying to play the game you already outgrew.”
Roxy lifts her beer. “To Nova. Queen of not taking any of Finlay’s bullshit.”
I clink my glass to hers. “To best friends and carbs.”
“And to lighting his ego on fire,” Roxy adds with a wicked glint.
I smirk. “Now that’s the fantasy.”
The laughter dies down after our second bowl of pasta and third glass of wine. Delaney is curled into the corner of the couch with a blanket, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and heat of the room. Roxy is stretched across the rug like a lazy cat, scrolling through tattoo designs on her iPad and humming along to the low music playing in the background.
And me?
I’m here. I’m with them. Surrounded by love, by safety, by sisterhood. And yet, I feel alone.
Not because they’re not enough. God, no. These women are my lifelines. My soulmates in every way that matters.
But there’s a space in me that aches in silence. A space I pretend doesn’t exist most days.
I sip from my wine glass and let the confession slip out quietly. “I haven’t had a boyfriend in over two years.”
Roxy doesn’t look up from her iPad. “Because men suck.”
Delaney lifts a brow. “Because you’ve been busy building a life that none of them were strong enough to fit into.”
I chuckle, soft and bitter. “Because they all say they’re cool with what I do until they’re not. Until the confidence turns into control, the admiration into insecurity. They fall for the fantasy, then resent the reality.”
Roxy finally looks up. “Well, fuck them for thinking they could ever deserve you anyway.”
Delaney reaches out and squeezes my hand gently. “You’re not the problem, Nova. They are.”
I nod, but I still feel that familiar twist in my chest. That ache I never say out loud. “It’s exhausting, you know? Pretending it doesn’t bother me. Pretending I’m not tired of the hookups and the lonely nights. Pretending I’m not looking around and wondering when it’s my turn.”
Roxy sits up now, her expression softer than usual. “You’re allowed to want more. You just don’t need to settle to get it.”
“I won’t,” I whisper.
And then, because I’m already cracked open, I say the thing I didn’t want to admit even to myself.
“I hate that a small part of me, like a really small, barely existent part, kind of likes the attention Finlay’s giving me.”
Delaney blinks. “What?”
“I said small part. Teeny-tiny. Like, microscopic.”
Roxy smirks. “Nova Wilde, is the ice queen thawing?”
“I want to punch him in the throat and shove him against a wall,” I groan. “He drives me absolutely insane, but he sees me. I hate it. I hate that it gets to me.”
Delaney leans her head on my shoulder. “It’s not weakness, Nova. It’s human.”
“I know. I just don’t want it to be him who gets under my skin.”
