It wasn’t until Lexi’s eighteenth birthday that I realized it was her.
As kids I was infatuated with her, but it wasn’t until we were older that I realized what the feeling in my chest was whenever she was around.
I’d never seen love in real time.
My parents hated one another. My father was a serial cheater who resented me for existing. And the De Lucas were much the same.
That’s why it took so long for me to figure out the aching in my chest I felt whenever I left Lexi was love.
Now the four-letter word doesn’t seem like enough. Not big enough. Not worthy enough. Too little to describe the all-consuming emotion I feel toward her.
It’s like she’s written into the fabric of my soul, as if fate made her just to torture me with her perfection. An angel I can never have but will always worship.
My phone lights up on my desk, and I groan.
What the fuck do they want now?
I reach for it, and my chest tightens when I see the notification fromFan Faves, the app Lexi uses for her subscription services.
Fan Faves
You have a message from Wildcat
Her username always makes my chest clench, because it’s the nickname I gave her all those years ago when she was in her rebellious teen years. The fact she chose to use it only further proves what I’ve always known.
That she’s mine.
I press my eyes closed for a moment and open the message thread. This past week has been a test as to whether my obsession will ever be able to let her go, and I’ve failed miserably if the giddiness in my chest as I wait for the app to load is anything to go by.
Wildcat: Hiya, Handsome! You’ve been quiet the last few days, just checking in on you!
She misses me.
It’s the only reason she’d send a message like this, because regardless of whether I’m using the benefits of my subscription or not, she’s still having a thousand dollars clear into her account every week.
Really, the only reason she would notice my absence at all is if she missed me.
A rogue smile tips up the corners of my lips as I consider my response. I know I’m the only person she messages on this app with any kind of real emotion. There’s a lot of placating men’s fragile egos, but her conversations with me are far deeper, and I’m more than a little smug about that fact.
CJP: Hello beautiful! I’m sorry for being MIA. Work has been keeping me on my toes this week, but I’m missing you. How are you doing? I know you said you were going to be cat-sitting.
Walking the line of knowing everything about Lexi and pretending to be a perfect stranger is harder than you would think, because the more she tells me online, the more I have to keep track of what I should and shouldn’t know in her real life.
It’s a delicate situation I’ve woven for myself, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, having this small piece of her.
It’s as close as I’ll ever allow myself to get, even if living without her is the most painful thing I’ve ever had to do.
THREE
LEXI
Igroan as I collapse next to Mr. Whiskers on my bed.
I’ve tried every dress I own, as well as every dress Riley owns, and none of them are right.
I’m hours away from meeting the man that could be my perfect match, despite the algorithm only deigning us a partial, and I have nothing to wear.
Nerves roll around in my stomach as the orange ball of fluff headbutts me, his purr coming as a welcome comfort.
