Page 96 of The Equation of Us
Blood rushes to my face, panic closing my throat. “I—”
“Don’t.” She drops the sketchbook like it’s burned her. “Don’t insult me by lying. Not now.”
“Daphne—”
“How long?” Her voice is eerily calm, her eyes fixed on mine. “How long have you been sleeping with him?”
The bluntness of the question makes me flinch. “It’s not… it’s complicated.”
“How. Long.” Each word is precise, sharp-edged.
“Since February,” I admit, the confession both devastating and somehow relieving. “After you broke up.”
“After we broke up,” she repeats, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Well, that makes it completely okay then, doesn’t it? Not like there’s a friend code or anything.”
“I didn’t plan for it to happen,” I say, desperation making my voice crack. “It just… did.”
“Things don’t ‘just happen,’ Nora. You make choices.” She stands, gathering her scattered notes with jerky movements. “You chose to sleep with my ex-boyfriend. You chose to lie about it. For months.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.” It sounds pathetic even to my own ears.
“How about ‘Hey Daphne, I’m fucking your ex’? That would have worked.” Her voice rises slightly, anger finally breaking through the calm. “Instead, you sat there listening to me talkabout him, asking questions, pretending to be my friend while—” She breaks off, shaking her head. “God, no wonder you were so interested in hearing about our relationship.”
The accusation hits like a physical blow. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like, then?” Daphne demands, hands shaking as she holds the sketchbook. “Enlighten me.”
How can I explain something I barely understand myself? The magnetic pull between Dean and me, the way we fit together—not just physically, but intellectually, emotionally. How what started as curiosity became necessity, became… something I’m afraid to name.
“I care about him,” I say finally. “And he cares about me.”
Daphne stills, her expression shifting from anger to something worse—pity. “Oh, Nora. You think you’re different? Special? The one who finally got under his skin?” She shakes her head. “That’s what Dean does. He makes you feel seen, understood. Like you’re the only person who gets the real him.”
“That’s not fair,” Sadie interjects, finally finding her voice. “To any of you.”
“You knew?” Daphne turns to her, betrayal fresh in her eyes. “Of course you did. You’re roommates. You probably covered for them.”
“I found out after the fact,” Sadie says carefully. “And I encouraged Nora to tell you. Multiple times.”
“How noble.” Daphne’s voice drips with sarcasm. “Gold star for effort.”
“Daphne, please,” I stand, reaching for her. “Can we talk about this? I never meant to hurt you.”
She steps back, avoiding my touch. “Funny how people always say that after they’ve done exactly the thing that would hurt someone the most.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears threatening. “I’m so sorry.”
“Save it.” She moves toward the door, holding it open. “I think you both should leave now.”
Sadie gathers our things silently, the festive atmosphere of girls’ night completely evaporated. I stand frozen, searching for something, anything to say that might salvage this.
“He wasn’t mine anymore,” Daphne says as we reach the door, her voice quieter now. “I get that. I don’t have any claim on him. But you, Nora? You were my friend. I trusted you.”
The past tense hits like a slap.
“I still am your friend,” I say, desperate. “This doesn’t have to—”
“Yes, it does.” She looks me directly in the eyes. “Because friends don’t lie to each other for months about something this important. Friends don’t sit and listen to someone talk about wanting to reconnect with their ex when they know it’s impossible.”
