Tonight, Zayden brought his friends over. I wanted to stay upstairs in our bedroom with a book, but he insisted I come downstairs and hang out with them like a ‘normal girlfriend’. I feel a sense of responsibility not to let him down and to help him project the best image, so I agreed.
I have to admit, out of all his friends, these two guys unsettle me the most. There’s a disturbing feeling whenever they look at me, as if they harbor hidden intentions I’d rather not uncover.
But maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’ve always felt awkward around people, and my mind tends to overreact, convincing me that everyone is out to hurt me. With howcharming they look, it’s hard to imagine anyone that attractive being evil.
As we sit on the couch, I force small smiles to give the illusion of being engaged in their conversation, even though I’m far from it. I wish I had my music with me; it would help drown out the noise. But even if I did, I know better than to put on my headphones while I’m supposed to be socializing—it would come off as rude.
I shift uncomfortably, my back aching from the awkward position of sitting all twisted in Zayden’s lap. There’s plenty of space on the couch, but he prefers to hold me this way. While I should feel secure in his embrace, every time I try to convince myself of that feeling, I fail. He holds me close, yet I feel more vulnerable.
More exposed.
Whenever I attempt to slide off, he tightens his grip on my thigh, sending a dull, burning discomfort through me, reminding me to stay put. The third time he did that, tears blurred my vision from the pain.
So I stopped trying.
A lingering thought at the back of my mind never fully lets me relax. A sense of fear spreads through my psyche, overtaking my rational thoughts. I don’t recall when or how it started. It feels like this unease has always been there, lurking just out of sight. I catch his gaze when I’m taking a bath or getting ready for bed, a look that doesn’t feel like a concern but rather something darker. It’s as if he’s watching me for a reason, plotting something in silence, and I get the sense that he wishes I wasn’t here with him.
That thought scares me. I know it can’t be true. Zayden is the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Every day, he reminds me of how much he loves me and how much he wants a future withme. He makes me believe I’m the only thing that matters in his world.
So why do these thoughts keep creeping in? There must be something wrong with me because this isn’t normal. I’m always on edge, always expecting a trick, always fearing something bad might happen. It feels like my brain doesn’t want me to be happy, like it shuts down every positive feeling before it can take root.
“So, how’s it going?” A gruff voice snaps me out of my thoughts, making me flinch. Zayden’s hand tightens on me, a silent command to remain still. “You both pleased?” Joseph, one of the friends, looks at me, clearly expecting a response. I’ve been zoned out for most of the conversation, so I have no idea what he’s asking about.
“Well, I certainly am,” Zayden replies, rescuing me from my silence. I turn my head to him, meeting his dark, slightly glazed-over eyes. “I think Venetia is, too. She’s pretty needy, you know?”
Laughter erupts, followed by the sound of Joseph clapping his hands. “I can tell,” he says, his eyes raking over me from head to toe. A wave of discomfort washes over me, and I look down, trying to maintain my strained smile. My cheeks ache from all the smiles I’ve forced tonight.
“Come on, man, you’re making her uncomfortable,” Zayden mocks, planting a wet kiss on the side of my head.
“She’s always so shy,” his other friend Logan chimes in, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Isn’t that a bit boring for you?”
An ache grips my chest as discomfort transforms into something deeper. I’ve endured plenty of their stupid jokes, but this one feels like too much. “Zayden?—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupts, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. While he intends the gesture to be comforting, it onlyadds to my struggle. “They’re just joking, Venetia. Don’t say you can’t handle a joke.”
I can handle jokes, but not when they humiliate me. I want to tell him this, even though it should be obvious, but I’ve always struggled to speak up for myself. It’s like I swallow my tongue and forget every word, unable to voice my thoughts. I try to communicate my feelings with my eyes, casting him a pleading look. I can feel the corners of my vision blurring with tears, and I know he notices.
But, as always, he pretends not to see and turns his attention back to his friends. My lip trembles, and heat flushes my cheeks from the rush of emotion overtaking me.
This isn’t the first time it’s happened. Zayden never stands up to those who hurt me. I’m not asking him to punch them—though that might teach them a lesson—I just want him to help set basic boundaries and let them know they can’t disrespect me. But he never has my back. At this point, it’s not even surprising.
“Venetia isn’t as shy as she seems,” Zayden says. “She can please all of us if I ask her to.” He turns his eyes back to me. “Can’t you, baby?”
Shock quickly gives way to panic, coloring my face a deeper crimson. I can feel all of their gazes on me. “W-what?”
He flashes a toothy grin and throws his head back, laughter bubbling up from his throat. “I’m just kidding! It’s a joke, baby. Calm down.”
I often struggle to understand his sense of humor, and whenever I bring it up, he claims I’m humorless. So, I keep quiet this time.
“We need you to relax, for real,” Joseph interjects, gesturing toward the bottles of alcohol on the coffee table. “Come on, drink with us.”
I shake my head, picking at the skin around my nails to ground myself and stave off the urge to burst into tears. The anxiety surges within me, a sensation so intense it feels unreal—every part of my body burns with it, as if it’s consuming me alive.
“Thank you, but?—”
“Your distress is so palpable I can almost taste it in the air,” Logan interrupts. “We came here to have a good time, Venetia. We want you to feel good, too.”
“Baby, come on,” Zayden whispers into my ear, placing a soft kiss on my earlobe. “You don’t want to make my friends uncomfortable, do you?”
