Dorian

The ride from the mall was chaos. Late-night smoothies, muffled music, and Zoie and Tony bickering in the back seat arguing over the aux cord, debating which one forgot Zoie’s tote bag, and fake-threatening to block each other on Instagram.

“Why do you always have to comment on everything I do?” Zoie snapped, arms crossed.

Tony scoffed. “Because everything you do is dramatic. Who needs thirty minutes to pick one lip gloss?”

“It was a bundle deal, Tony!”

Dorian kept his eyes on the road, letting their noise fade into the background. They’d be cuddling again in five minutes.

Sure enough, a few beats later:

 “You’re still my favorite annoying person,” Tony murmured.

 Zoie sighed. “I hate you.”

 “You love me.”

 “Unfortunately.”

Dorian shook his head, smiling a little. His mind wasn’t really there. It hadn’t been for most of the ride.

He pulled into the parking lot of Zoie's complex.

“We’re all hanging out over Christmas break, right?” Zoie asked as she climbed out of the back seat, tugging Tony along.

“Yeah, for sure,” David said from the passenger side, half-waving.

Tony grinned. “I’m in. Just hope the rest of you don’t flake.”

Dorian laughed and waited until they were inside before pulling away from the curb. Once it was just him and David, the car settled into quietness. Streetlights flashed across the windshield in a slow rhythm as he drove.

David turned slightly in his seat. “You’ve been quiet tonight.” He studied Dorian's face. “You good?”

Dorian nodded. “Yeah.”

David didn’t buy it. “I noticed you silenced Ryin’s calls three times in the past twenty minutes.”

Dorian sighed, resting his arm against the window. “We haven’t talked in weeks. And when we do, it’s like she’s looking for a reason to fight. Or blame me for something. I’m just tired of it.”

David nodded slowly. “So you’re done?”

“I was done the moment it stopped feeling like love and started feeling like a constant war.”

That earned another quiet nod. Then, after a pause: “So. . . Constanza, huh? And her friend?”

Dorian shook his head and started laughing. "I knew you were going to do that shit."

“You got quiet after your little run-in with them,” David teased. “What’s the deal?”

“Nothing,” Dorian said. “She seemed nice. Kind of shy. Really cute, though.”

He tried to sound casual, like he hadn’t been thinking about her since it happened. Whatever it was about Amara had stuck. He kept replaying their little collision. How she stumbled, how his hands caught her just in time, how wide her eyes were when she looked up at him. There was a quiet kind of beauty about her, like she didn’t even know the effect she had. And for a second, time really had slowed down.

“Uh-huh.” David grinned, noticing the way Dorian’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Cute, huh?”

“Don’t start.”

“You smiled just now.”

“She just seemed. . . different.”

“Mhmm.” David didn’t press and slightly changed the subject instead. “You know who I’m kind of crushing on?”

“Who?”

“Constanza.”

Dorian glanced over, brows raised. “For real?”

David nodded. “Since day one. First day of class, she sat two rows ahead of me. Red cardigan on. Hair in a high curly ponytail. The professor asked this question about narrative framing or something like that, and her answer shut down the entire room. I was gone.”

Dorian laughed. “And you’ve said nothing all this time?”

“I didn’t want to be weird,” David said, unlocking his phone. “But maybe it’s time.” He opened Facebook, frowning. “How do you spell her name?”

“C-O-N-S-T-A-N-Z-A.”

David carefully typed in each letter, and after a few seconds, he grinned. “Found her.” He hit Add Friend and started scrolling through her pictures. He stopped at a candid photo of Constanza laughing, arm around Amara’s shoulders, both mid-laugh under fairy lights. "Is this the friend she was with tonight?" He held his phone up so Dorian could see.

Dorian came to a complete stop at a red light and took a quick glance. "Yea, that's her."

He read the tagged name out loud. "Amara Olson. Hmm. . . I haven't seen her around yet."

"Neither have I. Tonight was my first time meeting her."

"Your girl is cute, though." David teased.

Dorian glanced at him, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I barely know the girl, but yeah, I can tell she's super shy.”

Still, her name lingered in his mind long after the conversation ended.

Amara.

He hadn’t planned on asking Constanza for her number — but he hadn’t planned on thinking about her all night, either.

“You got all that in five minutes?”

“I mean yeah, we all talked for a few minutes.”

“You’re blushing.” David smirked. “You’re crushing after five minutes of conversation.”

“Shut up.”

David chuckled. “She single?”

“I guess?”

“You didn’t ask?”

“It wasn’t like that. She literally fell into me. She looked like she wanted to disappear.”

“So naturally, your charm won her over in two minutes.”

“She mostly just looked traumatized.”

David laughed. “And you’re into that?”

“No,” Dorian said, then hesitated. “I don’t know. She wasn’t trying to be anything. Just. . . I don’t know. It was nice.”

David raised a brow, amused.

“Don’t make it weird.” Dorian muttered, but the slight curve of his mouth gave him away again.

David just leaned back in the passenger's seat with a satisfied grin. The rest of the drive passed in quiet understanding.

***

Their neighborhood came into view — three-story townhomes lined neatly along both sides of the street. Dorian turned onto their block and stopped in front of David’s house, directly across from his own.

“You want me to walk you to the door?” Dorian joked.

David laughed and grabbed his hoodie. “I think I got it from here.” He jogged up the steps and waved over his shoulder.

Dorian watched him disappear inside before pulling into his own driveway. The porch light was on. Nancy, his older sister, must’ve left it on before heading out.

He sat in the car for a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The silence wasn’t peaceful — it was the heavy kind that left too much space for thought. He reached for his phone. He had missed calls from his sister and Tony. He also had several missed calls and five long paragraph-length texts from Ryin.  He didn't bother reading whatever it was she was trying to argue about. Instead he texted Tony to let him know he had made it home safely, and tried calling his sister back, but she didn't answer. Then he stared at the unsaved number Constanza had texted him.

Amara.

He didn’t know why he’d asked for her number. Curiosity, maybe. Or something else.

He typed the message:

 Hey. It’s Dorian. Hope you made it out of the mall chaos alive.

Clean and simple. No emoji. Just enough.

He hit send and stepped out into the cold air, locking his car as he headed inside. The house was still. Too still.

He started up the stairs, exhausted. When he reached his room, he stopped.

His bathroom door was cracked open.

A sliver of light leaked into the darkened room, accompanied by the sound of soft R&B pulsing from his Bluetooth shower speaker.

A speaker that only connected to two phones — his and Ryin’s.

His chest tightened.

He pushed the door open. Steam drifted out.

Ryin stood at the sink, wrapped in one of his towels like she belonged there. Straight dark hair slicked down her back, skin damp and flushed, her piercing blue eyes meeting his in the mirror.

She turned slowly and smiled, “Hey, stranger,” she said, voice low and silk-smooth.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, visibly annoyed.

She stepped closer, “Your sister let me in. She said you’d be home soon,” droplets of water slid from her collarbone to the towel's edge. “So I’ve been waiting.”

“I didn't ask how you got in, I asked, 'What are you doing here'? I didn’t ask you to come.”

She ran a hand through her wet hair, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “You weren’t answering my texts or calls. Figured you wouldn’t mind a surprise visit.”

His jaw tightened. “Ryin, you can’t just show up like this. We’re not—”

She took another step, fingertips grazing his arm. “You don’t want me here?”

He should’ve pulled away. 

But he didn’t.

She leaned in, and for a few seconds, all his previous thoughts stopped.

The first kiss was a mistake. The second was surrender. It wasn’t passion, just habit. Familiar warmth pretending to be love. Next they were back in the shower water rushing over them like a flood.  Their bodies moved with muscle memory, trying to recreate a feeling that didn’t exist anymore.

For a few breathless moments, Dorian felt okay.

Not happy.

Not whole.

Just. . . numb.

And numb was easier than feeling angry, sad and confused. But when it was over, and he leaned against the cold shower tile with her arms still around him, the weight returned. The knowing that things weren't right. Still, when they reached his bed, and she pulled him in again, he didn’t stop her.

The second time was quieter and more desperate. Like they could rewind time with friction and heat. As he came undone, breath ragged and eyes closed, a different face flickered through his mind.

Amara.

Her soft eyes and shy smile.

Then it faded, just as fast as the pleasure had surged through him. 

When it was over, Ryin curled into his side, legs tangled with his, while her head rested against his chest.

He stared at the ceiling, heart somewhere far away.

And all he could think about was whether Amara had seen his message.

***

Morning came fast.

Light crept through the blinds, brushing across Dorian’s face as he lay motionless, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His arm was numb under the weight of Ryin’s body. Her semi-damp hair clung to the pillow beside him. Then her phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Three times.

Her phone, screen-up on the nightstand, lit with each new vibration. Dorian shifted carefully, reaching across her without waking her.

He reached to silence it.

But the name on the screen froze him.:

Tony.

     His stomach dropped. Before he could stop himself, he opened the WhatsApp thread.

The last three messages were from Ryin:

 Missed you last night.

 Don’t you miss me?

 I dreamed about you again.

And below them, Tony’s new reply, time-stamped at 7:14 a.m.:

You say that every time. You know where to find me if you really miss me.

He scrolled. There were photos and more messages. Explicit ones. Dates that went back well over a year.

His vision blurred. Ryin had only been with him since January. Tony had been with Zoie for three years.

This wasn’t something new.

Ryin stirred beside him, stretching lazily. “Mmm. . . what time is it?”

Dorian didn’t answer. He turned, holding the phone tightly in his hand, knuckles white from gripping it too hard. “You need to leave.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “What?”

He tossed the phone on the bed like it burned his hand. “You’ve been fucking Tony!?”

She sat up, pulling the comforter up to cover her naked body, confusion turning quickly into dread. “Dorian—”

“For how long?!” he snapped.

She hesitated, lightly touching her collarbone. “I—I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“You’ve been messing with him for over a year,” he spat. “Sending him pictures. Meeting up. And the whole time, you’re telling me you love me?”

“It didn’t mean anything!” she said quickly, voice rising, defensively.

He laughed bitterly, stepping back. “It meant enough to keep it secret. Enough to keep lying. To secretly message through WhatsApp!”

“You don’t get to twist this—”

“I’m not twisting anything, Ryin! I saw the messages! I saw it all.” His voice cracked with anger. “And Zoie? You’ve been lying to her, too?”

Ryin stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowing like she was the one who’d been wronged. “Don’t put this all on me. You and I were barely speaking. You started pulling away.”

Dorian’s jaw clenched. “Don’t try to gaslight me. You started fading the second you left for school. All the attitude. The silence. The mind games. And I still tried to make it work.”

She scoffed. “We weren’t even solid—”

“Then why stay with me!?” he yelled. 

Silence filled the space between them.

“Get out,” he said, voice low this time. Flat and final.

Ryin stared at him, waiting — for what, he didn’t know. Maybe for him to change his mind. Maybe for him to beg her to stay like he used to.

But he didn’t.

She dressed in silence. No goodbyes. No apologies. No door slam. 

Just the sound of her boots tapping down the stairs. Then she was gone.

A few minutes later his mother walked in. "What was all that about?" 

He could tell by her facial expression and tone of voice that she wasn't happy with all the yelling they'd been doing.

He was still standing in the middle of his bedroom floor, trying to calm his breathing so he could apologize to his mother. "Sorry about that. We had an argument. We broke up. End of story.'' He sat back down on his bed.

His mother walked over, ran her fingers through his hair, and lifted his chin until he met her eyes.

“Honey, I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but there will be other girls. This feeling won’t last forever.”

Her voice was gentle, but to Dorian, the pain in his chest felt endless. She rubbed his back, letting him sit in silence for a moment.

After a while, she sighed softly. “I’ll be honest. . . I never cared for Ryin much anyway.”

She kissed his cheek, then stood to leave. At the door, she turned back, one hand on the frame.

 “And no more girls in your room overnight,” she added.

The moment the door clicked shut, Dorian put his elbows on knees, and his hands over his face. 

His whole body shook.

Not from rage.

Not even heartbreak.

Just exhaustion. Mental and emotional exhaustion. He stared at the bed. At the towel. At the bathroom door still cracked from the night before. The steam had dried now.

Dorian threw himself backward onto his bed and lay there for a few minutes. He was feeling conflicted about the situation. He wasn't heartbroken because he knew he wasn't in love with Ryin, but he did care about her. In the pit of his stomach, an unsettling feeling formed. That, along with his hurt feelings, was making him nauseous. 

He reached for his phone with a trembling hand and blocked Ryin’s number without hesitation, then he pulled up Tony’s contact and hit call.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then voicemail.

Coward.

He wanted to scream. Punch a wall. Anything to make the hurt stop gnawing at his stomach.

Zoie.

His thumb hovered over her name. He couldn’t press it. Not yet. 

How was he supposed to tell her that her best friend and boyfriend had been messing around behind her back? That the two people she trusted most had been lying to her face for months? 

Made even years.

He knew that honesty was crucial, but the fear of hurting Zoie only intensified his internal struggle.

Dorian took a shower and decided to get dressed and enjoy the rest of his weekend. He considered going over to David's house, but he didn't want to revisit the drama of earlier today, and he knew David would want to call Tony over to shoot hoops. He just needed a distraction. Anything. 

He scrolled through his phone, opening the thread with Amara's number. 

Still no reply.

The word “Delivered” sat there beneath his message like it was mocking him. 

And somehow that stung more than it should’ve. He closed his eyes, chest still tightening. 

He just hoped she hadn’t read his message and decided he wasn’t worth it. 

Because right now, he didn’t even know if he was.