The Boyfriend Rivalry by Milana Spencer

18

Liam: Truth

Everyone does things they regret when they're drunk, and I did way too many stupid things in one night. Making that comment about Curtis on his knees. Finding the box of condoms in his drawer. Another dumb thing I did — we did — which didn't seem so dumb at the time was taking about a hundred photos at the club. I forgot that happened, and when Bonnie and I went with Erin to buy groceries, we were more preoccupied with trying to look normal than remembering what happened the night before.

We'd almost arrived at the centre of town when Erin received a phone call. As soon as she answered it, Erin's smile slid off, and I could hear a stern voice on the other end of the call. Bonnie paled, and we shared a look.

"Open Instagram," Erin said to Bonnie once the phone call was over.

Bonnie blinked at her.

"Do it."

"Why do you want me to…" Bonnie began, tapping onto the Home Screen of the app.

Erin and I moved beside Bonnie, so we were looking at her phone screen over each shoulder. Erin reached over and pressed on Bonnie's Instagram story. First, there were two photos of the beach. Next, there was a photo of —

"Oh, fuck," I said.

Bonnie swore at the same time. The photo was of Bonnie, Kennedy, Curtis and I amongst a sea of sweaty bodies. In the next, us holding drinks. Next, I posed for the camera, clearly drunk. A photo of Bonnie and Kennedy posing in the bathroom mirror. A close up of our drinks. Again and again.

"I don't… know how these photos got on here," Bonnie said, first to Erin, and then to me, eyes wide.

"You don't know?" Erin asked, crossing her arms. "Dad just called me and gave me an earful. What the actual hell, Bonnie?"

"It's not as bad as it seems," I said.

Erin looked at me and I shut up.

"I can't believe this," Erin said, then stared at Bonnie. "Oh, wait, I can. Of course, you snuck out, and not only that, you were careless about it. Your Instagram story? Seriously? And, like always, Mum and Dad are going to blame me."

She gestured herself to make a point, then dropped her hand and glanced around the footpath to see if anyone was listening to us, but the footpath was empty.

"But you didn't go," Bonnie said. "And you didn't know about it."

"Which makes me look like a clueless moron," Erin said. "Now they think that we've spent the whole holidays partying and —"

"Who cares what Mum and Dad think?" Bonnie said.

Erin stared at her before turning around and walking the way we came. "Hurry up," she said, not bothering to look at us.

"But what about the groceries?" I asked lamely.

No one responded, and after a moment of hesitation, Bonnie and I followed Erin.

Fifteen minutes later, the five of us are sitting around the kitchen table like we're holding a conference meeting. Erin sits at the end, her fists curled against the table. Kennedy and Curtis aren't sitting in their usual seats next to each other — instead, Kennedy sits next to Bonnie, and Curtis sits beside me. Kennedy's eyes are red, but no one has pointed it out. I don't think Erin even noticed.

When we entered the house, we heard Kennedy and Curtis's voices in the master bedroom, and I tried to stop Erin from bursting in, in case something was going down, but Erin seemed doubly pissed off at the idea that Kennedy and Curtis would be in the master bedroom alone, even if they were talking rather than… you know.

"I just received a call from my parents, informing me about the photos on Bonnie's story," Erin begins, before launching into an explanation of the whole situation for Kennedy and Curtis's sake. Before, they seemed distracted, but once upon hearing what happened, their eyes flick up.

"How did Mum and Dad even find out anyway?" Bonnie asks. "They don't even have Instagram."

"Their maid does," Erin says. "And she showed Grandma and Grandma told Mum and Dad. And your parents know too," she says, flicking a look at Kennedy.

Bonnie runs a hand over her face. "I'm sorry, guys. I don't know why I put those photos up. I don't even remember…"

"You shouldn't apologise for getting caught, you should apologise for sneaking out in the first place!" Erin says. "How many times have you done this?"

"Only once," Curtis says in a tired voice.

Erin surveys the rest of us to read our faces.

"Seriously," Kennedy says. "Only once."

"And you didn't tell me?" Erin asks. I think there's a hint of hurt in her voice, but maybe I'm imagining it.

"Obviously, we wouldn't tell you!" Bonnie says. "You'd stop us! You never let us have any fun, and all you do is act like a parole officer for Mum and Dad. I don't understand why this is such a big deal. People go out all the time. We're all over eighteen. I don't know why you and Mum and Dad and Grandma and everyone in this family are so strict!"

Erin's laugh is harsh and mirthless. "Bonnie, you have no idea how much pressure Mum and Dad put on me to make sure you don't get into trouble. You know who's going to get blamed for everything? Me. I'm entirely responsible for you, and you have no concept of —"

"I can be responsible for myself! I'm an adult, and so is Kennedy."

Erin clenches her jaw. "You wouldn't understand."

Bonnie opens her mouth to retort, but Kennedy reaches out and touches her arm. She shakes her head. For a moment, Bonnie looks like she's going to ignore her until Kennedy whispers something low into her ear.

Bonnie struggles, but leans back in her seat and drops the topic.

"So, what now?" Kennedy says. The surprise at the situation has faded, and now she's returned to looking like a shell of herself. At least her eyes are no longer red, but there's a resignation to the way she sits.

I glance at Curtis beside me, but he's looking at his lap.

"Well?" Kennedy repeats when Erin hasn't responded. "Are you going to punish us like we're five years old? Take away our phones? Or are we going to sit here pointlessly?"

I've never heard Kennedy speak like that to Erin, and Erin looks taken aback too. "The three of us need to talk," Kennedy says, gesturing to herself, Kennedy and Bonnie. "Curtis and Liam, you can go upstairs."

I hesitate, but Curtis is already scraping his chair back and getting up. I follow him upstairs to the attic bedroom, and as I leave, I hear Erin talking about their grandma.

Once in the bedroom, Curtis walks straight to his bed and falls back on it, staring at the ceiling.

"Well. That was… something," I say. I close the door and stick my hands into my pockets.

Curtis grunts.

I take a step towards him. "Are you alright?"

"Did Kennedy make you promise to be nice to me?"

Out of all the responses I imagined Curtis would say, that's the one I least expect. I almost take a step back with surprise. "What?"

"I don't know why I'm asking you. I already know it's true."

I stand next to the bed, trying to form a coherent sentence. "It is, but she made you promise too."

Curtis's eyes snap to mine. Damn those blue eyes.

"No, she didn't," he says.

"Yes, she did," I say. "Because you were nice."

"Nice? I was a dick."

"No. Not recently. We went to the beach together. You took me to the movies," I say, then feel nervous. "You make me coffee."

"I made it wrong, the first time. And you said something about Kennedy remembering the recipe." He groans. "You thought she put me up to it."

She didn't? That makes my stomach feel warm and gooey. "Fine, you were nice of your own volition. Is that a bad thing?"

"It's humiliating," Curtis says, propping himself up on his elbows.

"How?"

"Because I thought we were genuinely…" He looks away and I want to shake him when he doesn't finish his sentence. Genuinely what?

"Genuinely friends?" I say.

He barks a laugh, and I flinch, taking a step back. Curtis doesn't notice. Thank god.

"Tell me what she told you to do," he says.

I rub my face, trying to hide my expression. "Just to be nice. So we wouldn't fight the whole holidays."

"Anything specific?"

"Not really. When we played beach soccer together, she put us in a team by ourselves. And she told me to bring you green tea."

"I figured that."

"But only the first time. Afterwards, I did it myself."

"Force of habit."

"After one time?" I snap, and my tone is sharp enough for him to pay attention to me. "Listen, I changed my mind about you, Curtis. I thought both of us changed our minds about each other. Okay? So I don't understand why you're mad when you don't even care."

I turn to leave, but Curtis's arm shoots out and grabs my elbow. His grip is strong. "Why do you think I don't care?" he asks.

I look at him, and he's now on the edge of the bed so he can hold me. "You scoffed before when I mentioned being genuine friends."

"Do you think we're genuine friends?"

I pull my arm from his grip and try to glare at him, but it's half-hearted. "Well, I don't hate you."

He stares at me for a beat before dropping his gaze. "I don't hate you either. I'm sorry," he mumbles. "Today has been a lot, and I've only been awake for an hour. I thought you had lied to me."

My frown softens. "It's okay." After a moment, I sit on the bed beside him.

"I want to ask you something." He glances sideways at me.

"Okay."

"Yesterday, Kennedy said something. She said that as far as she knew, Bonnie's not your type. Your romantic type."

I nod. I already knew what he meant, without the clarification.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Curtis says quickly.

"No, it's fine," I say. I'm relieved that this is the question Curtis is asking, but part of me wonders if there's a follow-up question. A question about him. "The answer is yes."

"Yes?" He blinks.

"Yes," I repeat.

He stares at me for a moment. "Last night, you said something about… how you'd never —"

"Yes," I say again, and stand up. I look down at him. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No," he says. "Of course not."

I nod stiffly, but my shoulders relax.

"I just wasn't sure." Curtis appraises me like he's seeing me in a new light. "Is it a secret?"

I shrug. "Not really. It's not as if I go around announcing my sexual orientation, but if people ask, then yeah, I tell them. Usually, people figure it out. I'm not that subtle."

"I guess I'm just stupid then. All those times Kennedy insisted you weren't secretly in love with her…"

"I thought you already knew, at least subconsciously."

"What do you mean?"

"After I told you about liking someone else, and you asked me questions, you used "they" instead of "she".

"Oh."

The silence stretches out, and we exchange small smiles.

"Well. We should do something," I say. "Though we better stay up here. I don't want to get involved with whatever's happening downstairs."

"Good idea," Curtis says, holding out his hand.

I grab it, guessing that Curtis wants me to pull him up. Instead, he tugs downwards, and I trip forward.