Pretty Falling Pieces by Isabelle Culpo

Chapter Thirteen

Amillion thoughts assault my mind the second their lips touch.

How do they know each other?

Were they in a relationship together?

What does he think of her?

Does he STILL have feelings for her?

Why the fuck did I give her that breath mint?

I don’t know which one to process first.

She’s wedged herself in between Theo and me, with her platinum blonde ponytail dangling in my face.

But thankfully before I do something silly like pull on it, Theo pulls away abruptly and she stands.

“What the fuck are you doing, Allie?” Theo yells, wiping his lips. I want to grab a napkin from the table and do the same thing making sure any trace of her and her fishy breath is gone.

Allie sounds stunned at his rejection “What do you mean? I’ve kissed you a million times! You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

So they do have a past.

I know I can’t blame Theo for seeing other girls before me, that’s to be expected, I’m just disappointed he was ever with a girl like her.

“That was a long time ago, Allie. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’m here with my girlfriend, who you owe an apology, by the way.” He grabs my hand from under the table, squeezing it tightly. The sight of his fingers intertwined with mine softens the blow a little, from what just happened.

The first time he referred to me as his girlfriend, it felt like things were moving too fast.

Now? Not so much.

“Her?” Allie spews. “C’mon Theo, you have higher standards than that.”

It amazes me how such nasty words can come from such a pretty face.

“Fuck off, Allie, no one wants you here,” Jess says, leaning back in her chair and resting an arm on Trent’s shoulder.

Allie narrows her eyes at Jess, then they’re right back on Theo. Looking at him to defend her.

“I think it’s best you leave,” Theo says softly.

“Theo, please. I know you’re still mad that I ended things, but you know why I had to, she wouldn’t stop coming between us.” She rests one of her hands on his shoulder. “Why don’t we go somewhere private to talk? I miss you so much.”

Theo’s eyes flash with guilt for a moment, before he composes himself “There’s nothing to discuss, Allie. We’re done.”

“Fine. Call me when you’ve got your vision back,” she says, her eyes shifting towards me.

Then she storms off to the other side of the room, once again crushing my confidence in her wake.

Silence descends around the table for a few moments after she leaves.

I have the overwhelming urge to ask Theo about their relationship and demand answers, but I know it’s not the time for that. I just want to go home, take off my shoes, and eat a bowl of ice cream. We can discuss it when tensions aren’t running so high.

“She’s psychotic,” Trent says, shaking his head.

Theo looks at me, but I have my poker face firmly in place.

We seem to keep getting caught in these situations where neither one of us knows what the other’s thinking but we’re still too afraid to ask.

At this point, I feel like the evening can go one of two ways. Either I make a big deal about it, spoil everyone’s night and go home. Or I can respond to the situation with my dignity intact and continue along with my evening as if nothing happened. Not giving Allie the satisfaction and attention she doesn’t deserve yet clearly desperately craves.

I choose the latter.

Theo’s face softens with relief when I smile at him in reassurance. “It’s okay. She went to my high school. I know what she can be like.”

He grabs my hand from underneath the table, bringing it to his lips.

Right now he only has eyes for me, and it’s at this moment I realise there’s no need to feel threatened by Allie. A relationship with her would’ve never worked out between them, even if I wasn’t in the picture.

Nothing is more important to Theo than trust.

Not long after Allie made her grand departure from our table, I spot a previous client of mine waving me over. I excuse myself from the table and head towards her.

“Imogen, you look lovely! How was Indonesia?” she asks.

I don’t bother correcting her.

Grace Morgan is an oxymoron.

On the surface she looks like someone who has their life together.

Mid-forties, wealthy, elegantly dressed. She seemed like the type of self-assured woman who knew exactly what she wanted when I started working for her. Little did I know she’d end up being the most fickle and forgetful of all my clients.

She pulls me into a hug. I try my best to avoid getting makeup on her lovely light blue dress.

As frustrating as she was to work with, she was also one of the first clients to take a chance and hire me, even though at the time I didn’t have much experience. To this day I’m still incredibly grateful for that project because it was what helped launch my career. She was recently divorced, with millions to spare, and looking to remove any trace of her spineless, greedy, good for nothing ex. Her words not mine.

Despite expertly playing the part of pretty, dutiful Trophy Wife, her husband still traded her in for a younger, shinier version.

Another reason why I don’t tend to trust men.

“It was great, thank you, Grace. I’d actually love the chance to sit down with you one time and share more about Rubanza, the elephant sanctuary I volunteered at. You would love it. They’re currently working on expanding to include a medical centre.”

One thing I have to give Grace credit for is the fact that she’s an avid supporter of animal rights. She would be an excellent resource to call upon for future fundraising endeavours and has a vast social network.

I suggest we meet up for coffee sometime next week.

“Oh, I would love that! I just adore elephants. I was actually meaning to touch base with you when you got back, but then I got a call from your colleague saying you were no longer taking on any clients.”

That rings alarm bells for me.

I work autonomously as a designer so I have no idea who this “colleague” could be.

“Who was it? Did they mention their name?”

“It was only a week or so ago… Some girl named…” She raises a delicate diamond covered hand to her jaw, searching for the answer.

“I don’t have any colleagues, Grace, I work alone. Whoever called you was not representing me.” I can’t hide the frustration in my voice, some petty designer must be trying to poach my clients now that I’m back on the scene.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think she mentioned her name. All she said was that you were no longer available. My daughter just had her baby, and we were going to move her into our pool house, so I wanted to redo it. Does this mean you could do it?” she asks, clutching onto my forearm.

“Of course, I’d love to!” I want to push her for a phone number from this mystery colleague, but that can wait for next time.

Working with Theo is going to take up most of my time, but there’s still room in my schedule to squeeze in other jobs. I’ve always believed that when an opportunity for work strikes, it’s best to say yes. You never know when things will start to dry up or be delayed.

“Oh that’s excellent. As much as I love my daughter and new grandbaby, we could all do with a bit of breathing space,” she says, excitedly.

Her daughter’s fortunate she’s able to move in with her parents. One of the downsides of living in Auckland is how difficult it is for people to move out of their family home and start a family of their own. House prices are so unaffordable that even someone from a wealthy background like Grace’s daughter has to move back in with her parents. In some cultures, that might not be so bad, but New Zealanders tend to crave that household separation from the parents. It’s a key milestone of adulthood success. When I moved out, it was the most terrifying and liberating experience of my life. I dread the thought of ever having to move back home. I doubt I’d be welcomed back with open arms.

“I’ll give you a call to arrange the time. It was nice seeing you again, Grace, enjoy the rest of your evening,” I say, grateful for the temporary distraction she provided.

As she joins in conversation with the people at her table, I walk away feeling a little disconcerted.

Who on earth would have rung her and said such a thing?

A seed of dread coils in the pit of my stomach and I make a mental note to reach out to some of my clients tomorrow.

It’s too early to start panicking, but that doesn’t stop a chill from running down my spine as I make my way back to the table.

By the time the food is served, we’re all ravenous—Jess in particular.

I ordered a warm French onion soup, which is served with a side of fresh ciabatta bread. The soup is delicious, but as soon as I swallow my first mouthful, I wonder whether going for something a bit lighter would’ve been a better option.

As a single girl, I’ve never had to worry about my meal choices. Knowing most people wouldn’t get within a meter of me for the rest of the evening.

Onion soup was a rookie mistake.

Everyone else opted for the steak, and while we all tuck in, the first speeches of the evening commence.

It’s bearable at first, but by the time the sixth speaker is on stage, I can tell the crowd is getting restless and bored.

“How much longer, babe?” Jess whines.

She’s never been able to sit still for long.

“Theo is the last one to speak and then everything should start wrapping up. We can hit up a bar afterwards. Are you guys keen?” Trent asks Theo and me.

“It’s up to you, baby,” he says, stroking the top of my shoulder with his thumb.

I’m tired, and it’s getting close to my bedtime, but I don’t want to seem like a party pooper, so I reply, “Sure.”

Theo smirks, a knowing look on his face. It’s disturbing how well he already knows me.

When I’m positive Jess is about to break out into a song and dance from boredom, Theo stands, buttoning up his jacket.

“Good luck,” I wish him.

Not that he needs it. Theo is very rarely anything but cool, calm, and collected.

He leans down to kiss me on the cheek. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make this quick; otherwise your best friend might kill me.”

“She most definitely will,” Jess replies coolly.

When he walks on stage, I somehow feel more nervous for him than I would if it were me up there. He adjusts the microphone higher and without referring to any cards he begins speaking.

“I started working with the Auckland City Orphanage when I was seventeen. I knew someone who had been admitted here and once I saw what this organisation and its employees did to try and help that person get back on their feet, I knew I needed to help in any way I could. What I found out from working with them is that changing the path of an at-risk youth is easier when the government still views them as a child. While the situations they end up in aren’t always ideal, children are still afforded a certain amount of protection and lenience when they’re under the age of sixteen. As soon as they’re older than that, they’re on their own and that’s why it’s crucial we provide them with as much support as possible during their formative years and as early adolescents. The Auckland City Orphanage does exactly that by offering mentors, training, education, and a concrete support network for anyone under the age of twenty-one. Three years ago, Coleman Construction started working on a project to build affordable homes for children transitioning from the orphanage to living on their own. To date, we’ve housed over seventy people who have gone on to find employment and be self-sufficient, contributing members of society, and it’s with your help that we’ve been able to do so. Please give generously tonight. Your contribution, no matter how small, will change the course of a life.”

Theo concludes by thanking the audience for their time and tells them to enjoy the rest of their evening.

As soon as he returns to our table and takes a seat, I wrap my arms around him.

Unsure who’s more surprised by the sudden display of affection, I pull back slightly embarrassed. Theo has been the only one to ever initiate contact between the two of us.

“You did so well!” I praise. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

It’s only faint, maybe I just imagined it, but I swear I feel a shudder go through him when he says, “Thank you, baby.”

Looking over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Allie and the rest of her crew at a table behind us. Some I recognise from high school, and others I’ve never seen before, but every one of them is watching our exchange closely. Something sinister and predatory swirling in their gaze.

I feel Theo’s phone vibrate in his pocket and I pull away letting him answer it.

He pulls it out of his pants pocket, and I rather nosily read the notification.

It’s a text from an unknown number and Theo frowns in confusion when he reads the message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Are you sure you want this?

In quick succession, his phone floods with notifications.

Images. Lots of them.

Even though I’m viewing them upside down my stomach revolts. I nearly throw up when I see what they’re of.

I don’t know whether my heart starts beating slower or faster but it’s all I can hear between my ears. With each swipe of Theo’s thumb I feel myself slowly dying inside.

This can’t be happening. Not now, not with him.

I raise my head, staring at the shock on Theo’s face.

“What the fuck is this?” Theo asks.

He says it so quietly I’m not sure the question is meant for me or if he’s asking himself.

Either way I know I have some explaining to do…

When I was fifteen years old in high school, Allie and her group of friends secretly filmed me changing in the girls’ locker room after PE one day. I remember the air feeling sticky and heavy from humidity, while we were forced to run laps around the rugby fields. Being overweight, my thighs rubbed together in the most uncomfortable way and I was desperate to just get home and shower.

Usually I changed in the privacy of a toilet cubicle, but that day they were all occupied.

I waited for at least five minutes for one of them to become vacant, but there wasn’t much time left till our next class began. Most of the girls had finished up by then anyway, and I wasn’t really left with much choice otherwise I’d be late.

When I assumed I was completely alone, I changed back into my uniform.

Little did I know that people were hiding in the toilets filming me.

The only reason I found out was because they posted the photos on social media. They’d blurred out the parts of me that couldn’t be shared on a public forum, but it still left very little to the imagination. My bulging stomach, thighs, and arms were out there for the world to see.

Thankfully someone informed the Headmaster, and they were taken down within the same day, but by then, pretty much the entire school had seen them.

After that incident I didn’t return to school for a week. When my parents forced me back, I had to deal with gagging noises being made anytime I walked the hallways, whispers behind my back, and relentless online trolling that forced me to delete whatever inactive online profiles I had left. My fellow students were disgusted by the way I looked with no clothes on.

At the time, I didn’t think it could get any worse.

I was wrong.

Screenshots of me completely naked, and bent over in the most unflattering positions, are lighting up Theo’s phone.

This time without anything being blurred.

He keeps scrolling, and my heart breaks as a look of revulsion spreads across his face.

I want to grab the phone from his hands and throw it across the room, but it’s too late.

He’s seen everything.

I don’t know whether he’s figured out it’s me yet as not only were the photos taken years ago, my appearance has changed significantly since then.

I have a few more seconds before he puts two and two together.

Although I knew the source of those photos immediately, looking at Allie and her group of friends would have confirmed it. They’re laughing so hard it can be heard from all the way across the room.

Theo’s still looking down at his phone. His eyes haven’t lifted once.

Realising this might be my only chance of escape, I run.

Hoping to leave the building before Theo can catch me.

That’s if he even wants to…

All of my bravado from earlier this evening was for nothing. I was probably better off leaving as soon as I saw them here. Or better yet, letting Allie think she’d gotten to me by the comments she made before.

I can hear my name being called from behind me.

Whoever it is, they’re too late.

I jump into the nearest taxi available and head straight back to my apartment.

Jess has a key to my place, but apart from her, I know I’m safe there.

Shoving a twenty dollar bill in the passenger seat I thank the taxi driver then take the stairs to my floor two at a time. No one ever comes this way.

My phone won’t stop going off with Jess and Theo calling me, so I switch it to silent.

I type them both a reply letting them know I’m okay. I just needed to get out of there and I’ll call them tomorrow.

Jess replies immediately with a heart emoji, giving me the space she knows I need.

Theo, on the other hand, is relentless and continues to ring me, so I turn it off completely.