The tattoo is still there, the only one he’s got: the constellation Scorpio on his left arm. I’m surprised. I know he and his brothers all got star tattoos at the same time, I just thought he’d have covered up my astrological sign with something else.
“All right,” he finally says, lazily. “Be right back.”
He pads to the bathroom, closes the door. I wonder when I should go join him. If I should go join him. Sitting for two hours on the car ride back home, to the apartment I got two weeks ago in downtown Leesburg, is already going to be an adventure in discomfort.
But then again, I do remember saying fuck me so hard I walk funny, so whose fault is that?
I’m still debating a nice shower fuck when Seth’s phone buzzes on the desk. I look down at it, past my toes, vaguely wondering if it’s important and if I should at least see what it says, and then it buzzes again.
And again. And again.
Damn, Seth’s phone is blowing up. Maybe his family really did report him missing.
I take a deep breath and lever myself to sitting. I yawn. Tentatively, I pat my hands over my hair, then decide not to find out yet. Semen leaks out of me as I stand and walk over to the desk, grab my own phone, and glance down at Seth’s.
Daniel wants to know where he is. His mom wants to know where he is. Levi wants to know where he is. Caleb’s texting that everyone is worried, what’s going on? Eli says he just woke up to a hundred texts and would someone please tell him what’s going on.
In the bathroom, the shower goes on, and I lean against the desk, still naked. I tap one fingernail against the wood-veneer surface, run my tongue over my front teeth as I think.
Then, despite knowing better, I reach out and scroll down Seth’s notifications with one finger.
It’s just his lock screen. These all came up, completely of their own accord, while I was here and he wasn’t, right? I just happened to see them while I was grabbing my own phone, and besides these are publicly available, it’s not like I’m breaking into his phone or someth —
There’s a picture. It’s tiny on the lock screen so it’s hard to see, but it’s from someone named Stacey and I’ve already tapped it, gone into his texts, and now it’s taking up the entire screen and Stacey is nearly naked.
I stand there, naked myself, frozen. My fingertips go cold and after a long, blank pause, my brain starts shouting a thousand things at once.
It’s a selfie. She’s a brunette. She’s wearing a thong, nothing else, striking a pose with one leg up on the bathroom sink. There are toothpaste spots on the mirror. She’s got a blue shower curtain behind her, a nice enough bathroom, triangle-shaped pale patches on both breasts, a belly button ring, the thong is black, holy fucking shit that’s Stacey Hepp.
Stacey Hepp is sending sexy pictures to Seth and I want to know what the fuck that whore is thinking, sending my ex-boyfriend shit like this. I haven’t talked to her much in a couple of years, but we were friends in high school — we had a bunch of the same classes, we used to hang out sometimes. Not best friends, but friends.
Absolutely friends enough that she knows Seth is my ex.
I close the picture, and now my entire body is flushed, hot. I glance in the mirror over the desk and I’m bright pink from my face almost to my nipples, and I look back at the phone, at the text thread I’ve now opened because I guess Seth’s phone isn’t passcode-protected.
Then I stop again, because a few messages earlier is a picture of Seth’s hard dick, his hand gripped around the base.
Tears stab at the backs of my eyeballs. I’m holding my breath and I feel like I’ll pop, but I can’t seem to find the muscles that let me exhale.
Earlier texts. Another half-naked selfie of Stacey.
I’m so hard for you.
Show me.
They’re from Wednesday. Two days before I called.
He was sexting with my former friend last week and I feel like I might throw up. Stacey? What the fuck is he doing with Stacey?
My thumb is shaking as I go back to see all his texts. I’m now fully snooping in Seth’s phone but I don’t care, and holy shit I’m right not to care because there are a bunch from his brothers and a few from friends, but once I scroll down it’s all women’s names.
I start opening them and feel like I’ve swallowed a black hole.
Still on for this weekend?
Hey, you up?
I had a really good time last night.
Touched myself and wished it was you.
There are naked pictures, going both ways, though Seth never shows his face. There are logistical time-and-date confirmation texts and there are sexy texts and there are logistical texts that turn sexy and sexy texts that turn logistical.
This isn’t real, I think to myself. There’s some other explanation, like his number got mixed up with someone else’s and he felt bad so he just went along with it, or —
I barely even notice when the bathroom door opens.
“Shower’s free if you need one,” he says, coming back into the room. His towel is knotted so low on his waist that I can nearly see his dick, and I hate myself for noticing that right now.
“Why are Stacey Hepp’s tits on your phone?” I hear myself ask, my voice higher-pitched than usual and shaky.
Seth stops. He looks from me to the phone in my hand, then back at me, his face going hard.
“You went through my phone?” he snaps, half growl, half disbelief.
“Are you fucking her?”
“Give me that.”
He swipes for the phone but I step back, clutch it to my chest.
“Answer me.”
“You just snooped through my goddamn phone, I’m not answering anything.”
I step backward again, the charger pulling out of Seth’s phone with a light snap.
“What about Amber Stremp?” I spit, even as tears well in my eyes. “How about her? She sent an ass picture. You seemed to like it, you sent your cock back.”
Seth says nothing. He just glares at me, jaw clenching, his beautiful blue eyes furious.
“How about Jenna?” I go on. “Is that Jenna Cowles from the grade below us? I always thought she was sweet but apparently she had a real good time with you.”
Liquid spills from one eye, and then the other.
“You really went through my goddamn phone?” he asks, voice low with controlled rage.
“You left it out!” I yelp. I’m suddenly loud and there’s a hysterical edge to my voice, and I try to take a deep breath, hold it back. “You left it out and got texts and one was from that goddamn slut Stacey —"
“That doesn’t mean you can go through it!” he says, his pitch rising to match mine. “You offered to let me charge it, I didn’t know that you were going to go through it.”
“It’s not even locked!”
“I thought the people in my life were trustworthy, not backhanded sneaks,” he says, and steps forward again, hand out, the veins in his forearm practically jumping.
I whisk the phone behind my back.
“Did you fuck Stacey?” I ask.
More tears. My voice is shaking. I bite my lips together, trying to win back some kind of control, but it’s pointless.
“Yes,” he growls. “Give me my goddamn phone.”
The word feels like a punch, right below my sternum. Seth knocks the wind from me without so much as a touch.