The Play: Briar U

by Kennedy, Elle

  Corinne stands nearby chatting with Kyler, and the others are gathered near the drinks table. Darius snatches the remote off the glass table when he notices what’s on TV.

  He swiftly turns up the volume. “Aw shit, I love this movie!”

  “You realize it’s for chicks, right?” Nico informs him.

  “If it’s for chicks then why is Scarlett Johansson in it?” D challenges. “Cuz I highly doubt chicks jerk off to ScarJo as often as I do.”

  Laughter breaks out. Kyler the math guy blushes. He’s kind of cute. I wonder if he and Corinne are into each other. He’s standing very close to her.

  “Where do I know this actor from?” Pippa asks as a handsome guy appears on the screen. “He was in that movie about a cellphone, wasn’t he?”

  “That’s the vaguest shit I ever heard,” Darius says, poking her in the ribs.

  “You know the movie I’m talking about, right, Demi?”

  I peer at the screen. “Is that Chris Evans?”

  Pippa nods. “And I swear to God, he was in that cellphone movie. It’s an older movie with…that British guy, and that lady, and…”

  Darius hoots loudly. “Fuck’s sake, P, stop being so vague.”

  “Wait, I think I know the movie you mean,” I tell Pippa. “Shit. I can’t remember the title, either. Babe, let me use your phone to look it up?”

  Nico reaches into his pocket and hands me his iPhone. It doesn’t require a passcode to unlock, which only serves as another reason why Hunter’s cheating accusations fall flat to me. Why would Nico willingly relinquish his phone if he were hiding something?

  Nico’s data plan is shit, so rather than pull up a browser, I open his settings first. “Hey, what’s your Wi-Fi network?” I ask Corinne.

  “Cwiley22,” she calls back. “Password is lower-case A, upper-case F—”

  “That’s weird,” I interrupt, “it connected on its own.”

  An uneasy feeling tickles my tummy as I glance at Nico.

  “Huh.” A frown creases his brow. “You know what, my phone must have saved your network when the boys and I were here moving you in,” he says to Corinne.

  “Oh, that must be it,” she replies.

  I nod slowly and open a web browser to search for—what am I searching for again? Oh, right. Chris Evans. But my fingers are trembling as I Google his filmography.

  Something’s bothering me and I can’t figure out what it is. I mean, I already knew that Nico and his co-workers moved all of Corinne’s boxes from the dorm to the apartment, and transported her new furniture. He never hid that, and neither did she. And of course she would’ve given Nico her Wi-Fi password if he’d asked. And he would’ve asked, because his data plan sucks and if he was here for a couple hours and wanted to use his phone, he’d definitely—

  Then it hits me, the reason why my stomach is churning and twisting itself into knots.

  Corinne didn’t have Wi-Fi until nearly a week after she’d moved in. When I came over to help with her closet, it still hadn’t been set up.

  There’s no way it could’ve been up and running when Nico was there days and days before.

  My entire body suddenly feels cold.

  “Demi. What’s the movie we’re thinking of?” Pippa asks impatiently.

  My breathing is labored as I glance at the phone screen. “It was called Cellular,” I mumble.

  “Ha! Damn, you were right about it being a cellphone movie,” a laughing Darius says to Pippa.

  “I told you so.”

  As everyone starts chatting again, I drop the phone in Nico’s lap. His deep brown eyes study me carefully. “Babe?”

  I’m having a tough time finding my voice. I truly don’t know what to say. Corinne is still talking to Kyler, but for some reason I know she’s listening to me and Nico.

  I draw a shaky breath. Why did his phone instantly connect to her Wi-Fi? That would suggest he’s been back here since moving day, but why would he ever need to be? She’s my friend, not his. I can see him hanging out with Pippa without me, but not Corinne.

  The tequila gurgles in my stomach. Fuck. Am I going to throw up?

  “Demi, what’s wrong?” Nico urges.

  I weakly meet his gaze. “Corinne only set up her Wi-Fi a week after she moved in.”

  For one fast second, panic flits through his expression. But it happens so quickly that I can’t be sure.

  “Okay, that is weird, then,” he says, pursing his lips. “I wonder why it just connected like that.”

  “Yeah, I wonder,” I say tightly.

  Our hushed conversation draws Pippa’s attention. “What’s going on?” she asks.

  “Nothing,” Nico says instantly.

  But Pippa knows me well. One look at my face and she’s already sliding off Darius’s lap.

  “What’s going on?” she repeats, her sharp gaze moving from me to Nico and then back to me.

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Slowly, I turn my head toward Corinne. She’s looking right back, and the guilty cloud in her eyes is all it takes for me to bolt to my feet.

  The room spins for a moment. With three shots of tequila swimming in my gut, now I really am in danger of vomiting.

  I choke down the bile coating my throat. “You have got to be kidding me,” I spit out. “How long?”

  Corinne takes a step toward me. “It’s not what you’re thinking—”

  “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend, Corinne?” My head swivels toward Nico. “How long have you been fucking her?”

  The entire room goes dead silent. On the TV screen, ScarJo is bickering with Chris Evans and suddenly the movie doesn’t feel so cute and funny anymore. It feels like a slap in the face, these stupid people falling in love when I’ve just been blind-sided by my boyfriend of eight years.

  “Oh shit,” Darius murmurs. His voice is low, and he seems as stunned as I feel. I don’t think he knew about this. I don’t think anyone did, except for Hunter.

  Hunter tried to warn me. He found the courage to tell me what he saw at the party and—

  I abruptly turn to Corinne again. “Was that you at the frat party?” I demand.

  She blinks. “What?”

  “A couple of weekends ago, the party at the Alpha Delta house on Saturday night—were you there with Nico?”

  She rapidly shakes her head. “No, I swear I wasn’t. I’m in a study group with Kyler and Ahmed and we meet Saturday night.”

  She gestures to the two guys, who are quick to back up her alibi. “We were all together,” Kyler says awkwardly.

  “Then how long has this been going on?” My voice is cold.

  “It only happened once,” she blurts out. “Just one time, I swear.”

  My stomach roils again. I don’t want to hear anymore. I’m done.

  Gulping hard, I spin on my heel and stomp toward the door. Nico chases after me, his pleading voice echoing through the small apartment.

  “Demi, please, stop! Let me explain.”

  “Explain what?” I roar, whirling around. “You cheated on me with my friend! And then again with some other girl at the party! Who was she? How many goddamn women are you screwing?”

  “I didn’t cheat on you. She’s lying—”

  “Hey!” Corinne flies forward. “I am not lying!”

  I flick my gaze her way and glimpse a flash of outrage. It’s directed at my boyfriend.

  “I’m not lying, Demi,” Corinne says quietly. “It happened.”

  And I believe her.

  “Pippa,” I say in a wobbly voice. “Get me an Uber. Now.” I’m fighting tears, because my phone’s dead and I’m trapped here in this stupid apartment with my traitorous friend and my cheating boyfriend and I just want to crawl in a fucking hole and die.

  “On it,” Pippa tells me.

  “Demi.” Nico tries to grab my arm.

  On instinct I swing my other arm and clock him in the face. His head rears back, a bitter curse ripped out of his mouth.

  My fist c
aught him on his left cheekbone. With a wounded expression, he cups one hand over it. “You hit me.”

  “You bet I fucking did, and you deserve a whole lot more, you fucking asshole.”

  “Uber’s two minutes away,” Pippa announces.

  I jab my index finger into the center of Nico’s chest. “Do not follow me,” I warn him, and then I run out the door.

  17

  Hunter

  It’s Friday night and my roommates and I are playing an inane board game called Zombies!™ Exclamation mark included.

  Hollis is home for the weekend, which means we get to listen to him and Rupi bicker over the latest development in the game. Hollis just drew a Sacrifice card—this requires him to sacrifice someone in our collaborative group in order for the rest of us to get closer to safety. Only problem is, the most advantageous move would be to get rid of Rupi. If she dies, we don’t lose much. Everybody else is too valuable to the group. There are two crossbows in my arsenal, for chrissake. What does Rupi have? Nothing.

  “Dammit, Mike, finish her off,” Summer bursts out, and damned if I don’t crack up hearing someone as angelic-looking as Summer advocating for the fake killing of one of our friends.

  “Summer!” Rupi gasps in utter betrayal.

  “What?” she says defensively. “The whole point is to get the most people to the research station. There’s only one Sacrifice card in the deck. Only one person in the group is gonna die and it has to be you.”

  “Has to be you,” Brenna agrees, taking a sip of the hot chocolate that soon-to-be deceased Rupi prepared for us.

  “Mike,” Rupi warns. “If you kill me, I swear to God…”

  “Babe,” he says.

  “Mike.”

  “Babe.”

  “Mike.”

  “Babe,” he sighs, and then places the Sacrifice card in front of her pile.

  Rupi shrieks loud enough to shake the coffee table. “I cannot believe you did that!”

  “I had no choice,” he protests. “It was best for the group.”

  “What about what’s best for me?”

  “You’re being very selfish right now, babe.”

  “Why? Because I want my boyfriend to protect me from harm? I don’t believe this! After we’re done with this game, I’m going to—”

  “You are done with the game,” Brenna interrupts dryly. “He killed you.”

  Rupi huffs and flounces off in traditional Rupi fashion. The girl is a drama queen.

  Luckily, she found true love with a drama king. Hollis stands up and throws his frazzled arms up in the air. “Do you see what you made me do?” he accuses the rest of us. “This is why I never play board games!”

  He hurries after Rupi.

  “And then there were three,” Brenna says indifferently, flipping through her arsenal cards.

  “We can’t go on without him,” I tell her. “He’s the only one who has the antidote for the second mutation. Oh, and the only one who can skin a rabbit.”

  “We’ll redistribute all the assets,” Summer suggests.

  “Nah, I think the game’s over.” I drop my cards on the board and lean back against the couch cushions.

  “We need to stop playing games with them,” Brenna remarks as she picks up her mug.

  “Definitely,” Summer concurs. “They’re the worst.”

  I reach for my own hot chocolate and gulp it down. My head wasn’t in the game, anyway.

  For the past five days, Demi Davis has consumed my thoughts. I feel like shit for snapping at her, but if my severe tone wasn’t bad enough, I followed it up by info-dumping my dismal relationship with my father on her. I could practically see the gears in her brain working over all the things I’d told her since the semester started, trying to discern which ones were true.

  Sadly, the majority were. I embellished a few details, to be sure. Dad generally isn’t cruel to my mother, nor does he speak to her with the same disdain I used during the fake therapy sessions. I was trying to exaggerate certain narcissistic tendencies to make it easier for Demi.

  But all the events I described occurred in real life. I did catch my father banging his secretary when I was fourteen years old. I did tell my mom, and she did tell me to not interfere in their marriage. Just be a good boy and stay quiet because Daddy takes care of us and what kind of life would we have without him.

  That was the day I realized my mother has no self-worth and my father has too much of it.

  Still, an angry trip down memory lane was no excuse to take it out on Demi. I knew there was a chance she wouldn’t believe me when I told her about Nico. I shouldn’t have mocked her about getting her head out of the sand, insinuated she was a naïve fool.

  She called you a fuckboy.

  Ugh, true. She was as much of a dick to me as I was to her. We’re both dicks.

  Fuck. I should try to clear the air. I look toward the side table where I left my phone. But no. Texting is garbage. A text conversation about this would feel too impersonal.

  “You know what.” I hop off the couch. “I have to go.”

  Summer glances over. “Are you sure? We could start a new game.”

  “Nah, I think the zombies can have this one. I’ll be back later.”

  “Where are you going?” Brenna asks.

  “To see a friend.”

  “Ha!” Mocking laughter rings out. “I knew the celibacy wouldn’t last.”

  “Not for sex,” I clarify. “It’s the girl I’m working on that project with. We got into an argument the other day, and I want to smooth things over.”

  “You know you can just text her,” Summer says helpfully.

  “You know you can mind your own business.”

  “All right then.”

  I haven’t been drinking, so I make the ten-minute drive to campus and turn onto Greek Row. I can’t find a spot in front of the Theta house, but there’s a stretch of empty curb a few houses away. I park the Rover and that’s when I hear the yells.

  Oh shit.

  I quickly jog down the lane, skidding to a stop cartoon-character style when I spot Nico on the lawn of the Theta house, shouting up at the second-floor window.

  “Come on, Demi! Please!”

  The man sounds utterly destroyed. I’d probably feel genuine sympathy for him if not for the fact that I know precisely what’s going on. He cheated on Demi at the party. There’s no other reason why he’d be outside Demi’s house, begging her to let him in.

  “Please, mami, I love you! I fucked up, okay!”

  I lurk near the hedges that separate the sorority house from its neighbor.

  “Go away!” comes a high-pitched voice.

  It’s not Demi. I peer up and see two girls at the window, their figures backlit by Demi’s bedroom lights.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Go away,” one of them yells.

  “We’ll call the police if you don’t,” the other one warns. “You’re disrupting the peace. People are trying to sleep.”

  “It’s nine o’clock on a Friday and this is Greek Row!” Nico growls. “Nobody is fucking sleeping, Josie! Just tell her to come down.”

  “She doesn’t want to see you, you cheating prick.”

  Yup. I called this one.

  “Demi,” he wails. His voice actually cracks, and this time I do feel for the guy.

  I know narcissists—I lived with one my whole life—and they don’t usually experience remorse. If they do show any regret, it’s probably an act. Yes, Nico could be putting on that act, but my gut says he isn’t. He seems genuinely heartbroken.

  He made his bed, a voice in my head points out.

  “Demi! I’m going to stand out here all night until you let me in! Please. We’ve been together forever! You owe me a conversation. You owe me a chance to explain—”

  A shriek of epic proportions slices through the night air. It’s shrill enough to give Rupi Miller a run for her money.

  Demi appears at the window, shoving her sisters out of the way. �
��I owe you?” she thunders. “I OWE YOU?”

  Nico instantly recognizes his mistake. “No, I didn’t mean it in that way—”

  She cuts him off. “You cheated on me with one of my friends! And then you cheated on me again with some random chick at a party!”

  Oh, Nico, you stupid bastard.

  Any sympathy I had for him is long gone. I’m solidly on Team Demi. I mean, I always was, but now I don’t care how gutted the guy appears to be. He deserves it.

  “We’re done,” Demi screams out the window. “Do you hear me, Nicolás? We’re done.”

  “Baby, don’t say that.”

  “You’re right—we’ve known each other forever. I’ve been loyal to you forever. But you’re incapable of reciprocating that loyalty. So please, just go.”

  “We can work through this,” he pleads. “Please, give me another chance. Let me earn your trust back.”

  “Dude!” a random voice shouts from one of the neighboring houses. “You’re pathetic! Bitch wants you to leave!”

  Demi ignores the interruption. “There’s no earning my trust back,” she calls to Nico. “We’re done. I don’t want to be with you anymore. I don’t want to be with a liar and a cheater. I’m worth more than what you’ve given me.”

  She’s right about that. And call me a perv, but I’m disgustingly aroused by the sight of her right now. Her cheeks are flushed and her dark eyes are blazing like hot coals. She’s got a hand on her hip as she glares down at Nico. Fierce and confident. Scorned but not defeated.

  “We’re not done,” Nico says.

  “We’re done,” she repeats.

  “You’re done, bro,” someone else hollers, and then other voices from Greek Row chime in.

  “Go home, asshole!”

  “You’re killing my buzz!”

  Nico only has eyes and ears for Demi. “You don’t mean it,” he informs her.

  Idiot. Men really need to stop telling women what they mean or don’t mean. The one lesson I’ve learned over the years is that a woman doesn’t appreciate it when you put words in her mouth—or your dick in someone else’s mouth.

  “Oh, trust me, I mean it.” Demi abruptly disappears from the window.

  For a moment I think it’s over. But then she reappears, her arms full of clothes.