Page 47 of Not For Keeps
“Oh.” I sit up, pushing my blanket off my lap. “Right. I should go, then.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry…I’m just really tired.”
I stand. “It’s fine. It’s late. I should get going anyway. Thanks for letting me crash your night.”
“Thanks for the snacks,” she says, walking me to the door.
We stand there for a second, the porch light soft above us. She’s got her arms crossed over her chest now.
“I’ll text you tomorrow,” I say, even though I’m already sure something shifted.
She nods. “Okay. Drive safe.”
The door closes behind me. I stand on the porch for a beat, staring at the wood grain of her door. What the hell just happened?
Chapter Fifteen
ANALYSE
Iclose the door behind Mateo and press my back against it. The house is quiet now. Too quiet. I look down at my phone, the screen still lit up with the last message.
Letty
Girl to girl…thought you should know what your man is up to when he’s not with you.
Attached: 1 image.
I click it. And there it is. Mateo. At the gym. Letty’s hand on his arm. His head turned. His face unreadable. But they’re close. A little too close, if you ask me. My stomach twists.
I stare at it too long, taking in every detail. Telling myself that this isn’t what it looks like. That it’s nothing. But I can’t shake the image. Because the longer I look, the more it starts to feel like exactly what it looks like.
And the fact that Letty sent it to me? Like she was doing me some kind of favor? Like she’s worried about me? It makes my skin crawl.
A low, bitter laugh escapes me. We’re not even reallytogether. Mateo and I…we’re pretending. And yet, here I am—jealous. Hurt. Pissed the hell off.
Because even if we aren’t really together, Letty doesn’t know that. To the world, to her, what Mateo and I have is real. To her, he’s my damn boyfriend. And now he’s just…letting her put her hands on him?
I push off the door, start pacing the living room. It’s not the photo. It’s what it says. It’s the whisper behind it. The implication. The way she’s trying to make me feel small. Like I’m the one being played. Like I’m the fool.
I stop walking. Jaw tight.
And, what the fuck, Mateo? You couldn’t keep it in your damn pants a little while longer? Not even until this thing is over? Not even long enough to make sure I don’t look like an idiot in the middle of all this? You’re out here playing pretend with me and playing whatever game this is with her?
I pace faster, my bare feet slapping against the floor, heart pounding like it’s trying to punch its way out of my chest. How dare he. How fucking dare he.
Whatever. Get it together, Analyse.
He’s not mine. He was never mine. This is all one big lie to help me save face. That’s all it ever was. A favor. A temporary solution to a very specific, and very annoying, problem.
So what if he lets Letty fawn all over him? So what if he didn’t push her hand away? So what if it hurt to see it?
That’s on me. That’s my mistake. I’m the one who started blurring the lines. Who let myself believe the touches meant something. That the look in his eyes was real. That any of it was. Stupid. So fucking stupid.
This whole thing was always going to end. I just forgot that somewhere along the way.
I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, legs bouncing like I’ve had three coffees too many. My thumb hovers over the keyboard, furious. Hurt. Stupidly unsure what the hell I’m even doing.
But I type anyway.
