My Boyfriend Chose Her. So Did My Two Best Friends. Chapter 03

My Boyfriend Chose Her. So Did My Two Best Friends. Chapter 03

“Cassidy, what do you mean your phone’s off?”

The first thing I heard after landing and turning my phone back on was a voice memo from Graham.

His tone was sharp, barely masking his irritation.

“Weston’s about to lose his mind, are you okay in the head?”

“It’s not that big a deal that we didn’t wake you for the sunrise, is it really worth all this?”

I didn’t reply to the memo.

I caught a cab straight to campus, headed to my dorm to start packing.

My roommate Delaney was in the room doing a sheet mask.

When I dragged my suitcase in, she froze.

“Weren’t you on the island? Why are you back already?”

“Left early.”

“Fight with Weston?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“I’m moving out. Flying to Melbourne in three days.”

She peeled the mask halfway off and sat up straight.

“What did you just say?”

“I got a job offer from a company, a design position. Signed the contract last week.”

“You’re moving abroad? Does Weston know?”

“No.”

“You’re leaving before you even break up with him?”

I crouched down to start packing my books, not looking up.

“Haven’t told him yet.”

“Cassidy Marsh, have you lost it?”

“I’ve never been more clear-headed.”

Delaney had known me four years. She knew I wasn’t impulsive.

She watched me pack piece by piece into the suitcase, quiet for a long moment.

“Need help?”

“Take those two picture frames off my desk.”

She walked over and picked them up.

One was Weston and me—taken last year outside the coffee shop by campus.

The other was all five of us, from a spring outing sophomore year.

Delaney flipped it over, looked at it.

“Harlow’s dead center in this one.”

I didn’t answer.

“You know,” she said, handing the frame back, “last time Harlow came by when you weren’t here, she went through your desk for a while.”

“Through what?”

“I don’t know. When I got back she was digging through your drawer. I asked what she was doing, she said she was looking for sticky notes.”

“I don’t own sticky notes.”

“I know.”

Delaney looked at me.

“That frame on your desk—wasn’t it further back before?”

I remembered. That five-person photo used to sit on the bookshelf. It had gotten moved to the most visible spot on the desk at some point.

I’d assumed I’d bumped it myself.

“She moved it?”

“I saw her setting it up when I walked in. I asked why she was touching your stuff, she said she was worried it was getting dusty, wanted to wipe it down for you.”

Wiping down a photo.

Did that require opening a drawer and rifling through it?

I set both frames face-down on the desk. Didn’t pack them.

“These two aren’t coming.”

Delaney nodded, said nothing more.

There wasn’t much to pack—one suitcase and two boxes, done.

The boxes would ship home. The suitcase would fly with me.

Halfway through, my phone rang.

Weston.

I hesitated a few seconds, then picked up.

“Where the hell did you go?”

His voice wasn’t worried. It was accusing.

“Back to campus.”

“You left early? Why?”

“Something came up.”

“What something? We’re not even leaving the island till the day after tomorrow. You just took off, and now Harlow’s afraid to even talk. Happy?”

Harlow’s afraid to talk.

So it’s my fault.

I made Harlow uncomfortable, ruined the mood, couldn’t handle myself like an adult.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“You’re always just sorry, can you not do this? Every time something happens you go cold and shut down, how’s everyone supposed to feel?”

“You guys keep enjoying the trip, don’t worry about me.”

“Cassidy Marsh, what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just had something to take care of.”

He paused, voice softening slightly.

“Fine. Glad you got back safe. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and—go by Harlow’s dorm and grab my charging cable, she says I left it there. Black one.”

I held the phone, staring at the ceiling for a long moment.

“Which dorm?”

“Building 7, room 405. Her roommate should be there, just tell her you’re picking it up for me.”

Use his name to get it.

His charger. In Harlow’s dorm.

He thought this was completely normal—normal enough to send his girlfriend to fetch it.

“Sure.”

I hung up.

Delaney was watching me.

“You’re not actually going, are you?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you say sure?”

I didn’t answer.

That was the habit. Saying okay. Saying it’s fine. Saying I don’t mind.

I’d said it so many times I couldn’t tell anymore whether I was placating him or myself.

My phone lit up again. Group chat.

Harlow had posted a photo—sunset over the beach, her sitting alone on the sand wrapped in Weston’s windbreaker, captioned with a sad-face emoji.

Graham: [Don’t be upset, that’s just how Cassidy is, she’ll be fine in a couple days.]

Desmond: [Yeah, it’s not about you.]

Not about you.

Not your fault.

It’s Cassidy’s fault. It’s always Cassidy’s fault.

I put the phone down and went back to packing.

At the very back of the drawer was a small box. I opened it—a bracelet inside.

A gift from Weston for our one-year anniversary.

A thin silver chain, a tiny star charm.

“It looks beautiful,” he’d said. “And it really suits you.”

I’d been happy about that for days.

Only later did I find out Harlow had helped him pick it out.

Once, Harlow saw me wearing it and smiled.

“Cassidy, isn’t it pretty? I went with Weston to three different stores to find it.”

Three stores.

He’d gone to three stores with Harlow to pick out a gift for me.

But he’d never once gone shopping with me, just the two of us, for anything at all.

I put the bracelet back in the box and set it on the desk.

Next to the frames. Left behind, together.

Delaney stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame, watching me.

“Cassidy, you’re sure—not even a word to him before you go?”

“I’ll tell him once I’m already on the plane.”

“Why?”

“Because if I tell him now, he’ll think I’m throwing a tantrum. He’ll come talk me down, and I’ll cave. And everything will go right back to normal.”

“You don’t think you’ll cave anymore?”

I zipped the suitcase shut and stood up. Looked at the half-empty desk.

“There’s nothing left to cave with.”