Chapter 3: Desperate Little Bird

When morning comes, I don't wait to be told. I yank a box from the closet and begin to stuff some of my clothes inside it. Anything I could grab, I dump them inside. My laptop, charger, wallet, even my passport. I can't live here anymore. I’ll have to put it up for sale, but who would buy a property in the woods?

Obviously, my dumb ass did.

My love for horror has thrown me into an actual horror film. But this is real life and I can't handle this shit. My hands won’t stop shaking as I zip the box. I just need to get out right fucking now. Five minutes later I'm hauling my suitcase down the stairs. My cellphone buzzes in my pocket. I stop at the foot of the stairs and answer up happily.

“Nathan, thankGod. Are you back?”

“Ummm, Elena. No.”

My happiness ceases. “Really? You were supposed to be back last week. Never mind. I’m on my way to your apartment. I’ll use the spare key.”

“I actually moved.”

“What? What do you mean you moved?”

“Elena. I can’t do this anymore.”

Tears gather in my eyes. “What—what’s that supposed to mean? Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

He sighs. “Yes. Don't look for me. We're done. Don't call, I'm blocking this number. Goodbye, Elena.”

“Hold up! You can't do that. Why are you—”

The line beeps.

He hung up. He fucking hung up on me. This isn't happening. No. No. This isn't happening to me. Suddenly, my cellphone rings again. I eagerly answer without looking at the caller, hoping it’s Nathan. But the voice I hear next throws me into a fiery pit of rage.

“What?”

“Well, good morning to you too, Elena.”

I close my eyes, running my trembling hand through my hair. “What do you want?”

“You know, one day you’re going to learn how to speak to people.”

“Mom, I don't have time for this. Not today.”

My mother sighs dramatically. “You always were difficult. That’s why nobody likes you.”

Tears slips from my eyes. I cant believe Nathan just broke up with me and the first person I'm talking to is my mother, of all people. It could have been anyone… literally. Why her?

“Is that the reason you called?”

She doesn't reply immediately. Then she says, “Your sister is getting married this weekend.”

“What?”

My mother scoffs. “You heard me.”

“Claire is getting married this Saturday and you’re just letting me know now?”

“Honestly, Elena. Not everything is about you. Your younger sister is getting married and instead of you to be happy, you’re making it about you.”

“You couldn’t call sooner?”

“We assumed you’d be coming.”

I actually laughed out loud, wiping my tears. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because she’s your sister.”

I feel sick to my stomach. “I haven’t spoken to Claire in six months. She blocked me on social media and rejected all my calls.”

“Whose fault is that?”

There it is. Always. Every single time. Somehow it’s my fault for everything. When Claire fell down the stairs when she was five, my mother blamed me. When she broke her tooth while riding a bike, my mother blamed me again. Every damn thing that happens to Claire is always my fault.

“What do you want from me?” My voice cracks as I hold back tears.

“I want you to show up. Honestly, Elena, Calire is twenty-two and she’s already settling down with a wonderful, established man. I expected you to at least show some sisterly support, even if your own love life is a stagnant pond.”

“Mom, I really don't think I can make it—”

“You are coming,” she snaps. “And please, for the love of God, do not show up alone this time. I am sick of answering questions from the family about why my oldest daughter is approaching thirty and can't keep a man. Do not come here looking miserable and alone. The rehearsal dinner is Friday. Your grandma already booked your flight ticket. Be here tomorrow. Apply some makeup on that ugly face, find a nice dress, and act like a normal person for once. Goodbye, darling.”

The line goes dead. Heavy silence presses into my ears from all corners. My stalker has my picture. My boyfriend has abandoned me for no reason at all. And tomorrow, I have to walk into a den of wolves called my family, completely defenseless, or bear the humiliation of being the broken, lonely failure they always knew I was. I crumble to the ground and let the tears fall freely.

“Elena!!!”

The front door creaks open, and my best friend, Jessica, strides into the living room, holding a bag of takeout. She screams my name again but freezes the second she sees me crumpled on the floor, my face smeared with mascara. The takeout slips from her grip, crashing to the ground, but Jessica doesn't care. She steps over the spilled food, running toward me.

“Oh my god, what happened?” She knees beside me, embracing me. I cry harder now. “Stop it. You’ll make me cry too. What happened to you?”

“Nathan. He—he dumped me. And my mom... the wedding… Claire is getting married this weekend. And I have to go with someone.”

“Dear god. That absolute piece of garbage dumped you?” She grabs me by the shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “Listen to me. We are not crying over a coward who cheated on you more times than you can count. And you are not going to that wedding alone to let your mother pick you apart.”

“I don't have anyone else,” I whimper.

“Then we’re going to find someone.” She wipes my tears. “Go wash your face. We’re just in luck. There’s a special content creator party tonight at Vanguard. The VIP section is full of handsome, wealthy men, and you are going to pick out a rebound who will gladly play the part of your doting boyfriend this weekend. Let’s go.”

Vanguard is a club most influencers frequent. It is exactly the kind of place I usually avoid, but I don't have a choice right now. I’m not going home alone. I need a man. Jessica drags me to her place after I tell her I can’t stay at my house by myself.

I don’t mention the stalker. I feel safer at her small apartment. She dresses me in a skin tight dress that stops high at my thighs, revealing all of my curves. My boobs are a sight, practically spilling out. I wear bold makeup and pull my hair into a messy bun.

As we enter the club, men keep ogling me, making obvious passes. But I don’t respond. We sit at the bar, ordering two shots of tequila. I down mine, feeling the liquid burn its way down my throat.

Jessica leans in, shouting over the bass. “Alright. Target practice. What about the guy in the leather jacket at the corner booth?”

I look over. The man is attractive, but he is currently sliding his hand up a blonde's thigh while whispering aggressively in her ear. “Too arrogant. Next.”

Five minutes later, a tall guy with a flashy watch approaches me with a cocky grin. “Hey, I follow you on social media. You look way hotter in person.”

“Goodbye,” I say coldly, turning my back on him. “Next.”

“How about that guy!”

I look at him. He’s shoving his hand inside a brunette's skirt. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as he works his fingers inside her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. She grabs a fist full of his hair, steadying herself.

“Do I even need to say it,” I say, eyeing my best friend.

I’m scanning the crowd, feeling completely detached, until my eyes lock onto a man sitting alone at the high-top tables near the lounge area. He is handsome, clean-cut, wearing a tailored shirt, sipping whiskey.

“He looks normal.”

Jessica follows my gaze. “No way. He’s not even going to notice you.”

“Why?”

“He’s Santiago. He’s fucking rich, girls trip and hoard over him like flies. And yet, he never allows anyone to come close except he specially calls for them. Gigi told me he’s an ass.”

I stare at him, a sick twist of disappointment coiling in my stomach. As if he knows we’re talking about him, he turns, and his eyes lock onto mine. I squint, observing him. He isn't looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters in the room. He isn't looking at me with a burning intensity like…

Stop it, Elena. You're sick.

Santiago peels his gaze from me. I grab a fresh cocktail from the bar, look at Jessica, and nod toward him. “I want him. Santiago, right? He'll do.”

“What? Elena? Are you insane?”

I walk over, letting my hips sway in the bodycon dress. As I approach his table, I flash a charming smile at him.

“Is this seat taken?” I ask, pressing my arms together so my boobs scream ‘look at me.’

Santiago looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he takes me in. He smiles. “It is now. I'm Santiago.”

“Elena.”

I slide into his seat, offering him my cocktail after taking a slow sip. I watch him drink from the glass, his lips pressing right where my lipstick is marked. He doesn't take his eyes off me until the glass is empty. He sets it down casually.

“Santiago, I'm going to be completely honest with you. I need a massive favor, and if you agree, I'll buy you drinks for the rest of the night.”

He chuckles, intrigued. “I'm listening.”

“I have a family wedding this weekend. My boyfriend just dumped me, and my mother will brutally murder me if I show up without a plus-one. I need a fake boyfriend. Someone charming, handsome, and willing to pretend he's completely infatuated with me for seventy-two hours.”

An amused grin spread across his face. “A fake boyfriend? Sounds like a high-stakes game. What's in it for me besides free drinks?” His eyes roam across my body, settling finally on my bouncy titties. “I’m a tough man to please. But I’m gonna be honest, you got my attention.”

I lean in closer, letting my perfume drift between us, as I let him get a feel of what he might be allowed to taste if he accompanies me. “My undivided attention. And the chance to save a damsel in distress. And the chance to fuck a damsel if she finds you worthy.”

He smirks. “You know what, Elena? I like a little excitement. You've got yourself a deal.”

My cellphone vibrates on my lap. I reach for it immediately. My heart skips when I see his text.

‘Walk away from him, Little Bird.’

He’s here. I look around the club. There are hundreds of people dancing and at the verge of fucking eachother under flashing neon lights. Nobody stands out.

“Are you expecting someone?” I hear Santiago say.

His voice sounds distant. I don't answer because there’s only one person consuming my mind. And he could be watching from anywhere. If he’s watching, then I hope he never takes his eyes off me. Because I'm going to disobey every word he says. I turn back to Santiago, cup his face, and crash my mouth against him, kissing him fervently.