Page 48 of Not For Keeps
Enjoying your arm workout?
Delete.
You couldn’t even wait until this whole thing was over before letting her throw herself all over you? Really?
Delete.
You know what? Go ahead. Be with Letty. At least she doesn’t have to pretend.
I pause.
That one sits longer than the rest. It burns. So I delete it slower. Like dragging a knife out instead of pulling it clean. I toss my phone on the bed and stand, pacing. I’m not even sure what I want from him. An apology? An explanation? Do I even have a right to ask for that?
We’re fake dating. That’s literally the whole point. He never promised me exclusivity. He never swore off flirty gym interactions or Letty’s stupid wandering hands.
But God, I didn’t think he’d…entertain it. Not like that. Not with her. I sit back down and grab the phone again.
Letty sent me a photo.
No. Too direct.
Just a heads up…your side piece is doing PR damage.
Delete. Petty doesn’t help. Petty just proves I care. Which I definitely don’t. I shouldn’t. I type something else.
Do me a favor and try not to make me look like an idiot in front of everyone, yeah?
Shit. Shit. Shit. Nope. Can’t send that. Delete.
I exhale, tossing the phone onto the bed again. This is what rock bottom in a fake relationship looks like—sitting in your pajamas, staring at your phone, trying to decide if it’sworth it to confront someone who technically doesn’t even owe you a damn thing.
But he does owe me something, right? A little bit of care. A little bit of respect. I mean…the bar is low here. We’re not talking flowers and sonnets. I’m not asking for the world. Just basic human decency. And the bare minimum of not making me look like a fool in front of a woman who clearly wants to tear me down.
I pick up the phone one last time. Open a new message. Start typing. But this time, the words don’t come. I sigh, lock the screen, and set it down, face-down on the nightstand. The blue light fades, but my anger certainly does not.
I grab my earbuds, pop them in, and queue up the only woman who gets it. La India. Mi Mayor Venganza blares through my headphones, the opening drums punching in time with my pulse. I lie back on my bed, fists clenched, jaw tight.
Letty can send all the damn pictures she wants. Nico can keep running his mouth. Mateo can play clueless if he wants to. But I’m not going down quietly. And I sure as hell won’t be the one crying when it’s over.
I’m tossing and turning all night. It’s impossible to sleep when my thoughts are going wild. It’s like my brain is a computer with twenty different tabs open, and every time I close one, another one opens up.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that damn picture. Letty’s hand on him. Her smile. The way he didn’t pull back. I try to rationalize it—tell myself it was nothing. That she probably cornered him. I know Mateo. He’s a good man. At least, I think I know him. None of this makes any sense.
Would Mateo actually do this? I can’t believe that hewould make me look so stupid like this. I can’t believe that he’d actually hook up with another girl while pretending to be my boyfriend. He knows that Seb would be furious. Mariana and Anna, too. He has to know that this would hurt me. So then, why do I have this picture?
I flip onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I check the time. 3:42 a.m. I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep. I need to unwind. I need to clear my head.
I pull open the drawer of my nightstand and take out my vibrator. As I lift my shirt over my head, the cool air makes my nipples harden. Closing my eyes, I explore the contours of my breasts, relishing their fullness beneath my palms. Each gentle squeeze sends a ripple of warmth through me, and I gently roll my nipples between my fingers. Gradually, my hands move down my body, and I begin to rub my clit in small, firm circles.
My mind is filled with thoughts of Mateo. I can’t help it. He’s all I see. His strong arms. His sexy smirk. That tattoo on his thigh that runs down his leg. I imagine his hands replacing mine, his touch firm but gentle. The fantasy is so vivid I can almost feel his breath on my neck, his lips trailing down my collarbone. My breathing quickens as I switch on the vibrator, its soft hum filling the quiet room.
I slide it between my legs, gasping at the first contact against my sensitive skin. The pulsations send waves of pleasure through my body, and I arch my back, pressing deeper into the mattress. My free hand continues to caress my breast, pinching and teasing my nipple in rhythm with the vibrator’s movements.
“Mateo,” I whisper into an empty room, not caring how desperate I sound. In my mind, he’s here, watching me with those dark eyes that seem to see right through me. I imagine him telling me how beautiful I look. How amazing I am. How badly he wants me. How badly he needs me.
The pressure builds inside me, and my hips begin to move of their own accord, seeking release. My breath catches as I press the vibrator harder against me, its insistent hum vibrating through every fiber of my being. The tension builds low in my belly, a familiar pressure that makes my thighs tremble. I’m close. So damn close.
The release crashes through me like a tidal wave, my back arching off the bed as I moan out his name. My body pulses with pleasure, each wave more intense than the last as I ride out my orgasm. The vibrator continues its relentless rhythm against my oversensitive skin until I can’t take it anymore and pull it away, my chest heaving with each breath.
