Raze (Riven 3)

“And…can I tell you something that’s maybe stupid?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, but this is a secret, so you can’t tell anyone. Not even Caleb. Or Theo. Really, no one.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Oh, right. Guess you kind of have that whole secret, anonymous thing pretty well handled. Um. So, Sofia is dating Coco. The guitarist,” I added, in case, like me, he didn’t automatically jump to the idea of people dating rock stars.

“Huh,” he said, verbose as ever. “Why’s that stupid?”

“Oh, no, it isn’t. It’s…the stupid thing is…Well, I’m really happy for Sofia. Of course. It’s just that I realized all the times she stayed at Coco’s for the night—or the week—all the times she was never here, I thought she was working. I thought she was so busy she couldn’t even drag herself home on the subway. And I worried about her. I worried that she wasn’t getting enough sleep and eating enough. And…and the whole time—well, a lot of the time—she was probably just happily hanging out with her new girlfriend. Who I know nothing about. Because she never told me.”

It rushed out in a sluice of hurt.

“She was choosing to spend every free minute with Coco instead of me. And—and—and, I don’t know, but somehow it just felt sad and lonely when I thought she couldn’t spare time to come home because she was busy. But now it feels like she didn’t even want to spend time with me even though apparently she had enough to start a whole relationship!”

My hand was clenched, and so was my stomach.

Dane didn’t say anything for a long time. He probably thought it was stupid.

“Ugh, never mind, sorry. I’m just being a baby,” I said, slumping on the couch, dejected.

“No. That’s unkind. You’ve been so close and she disappeared on you. I don’t like it.”

His voice was tight with anger. Normally, an angry Dane would be intimidating, but when his anger was on my behalf it filled me with warmth.

“You don’t think I’m just overreacting?”

“No. She had an obligation to you and she didn’t live up to it.”

“An…obligation?”

“You two share a house, you share money, you help each other. You’re committed. Partners. She checked out of your partnership and left you to do everything on your own. She broke the commitment you have to each other.”

“I…guess that’s one way to put it. Kind of makes it sound like you think she never wanted to hang out with me in the first place, though. That she just felt like she had to.”

“That’s not what I meant. But there are situations that imply a commitment. And if two people have both been participating in them for a long time, and then one person suddenly stops participating, it’s a breach of commitment.”

The way he described our relationship as a contract soured my stomach.

“I guess. I just want her to want to spend time with me,” I muttered.

“I’m sure she does,” Dane said. But I could tell he had meant what he said.

Did he really consider relationships to be so…transactional? Just cold-hearted social contracts held together by nothing but obligation?

Did he think of our relationship that way? Like: I went on one date with this poor slob, so I guess now I have to follow through?

All the joy I’d felt when I heard his voice on the other end of the line flooded away, replaced by a creeping cold and the tightness in my voice that said I was going to cry.

“Um, I’m gonna go,” I said quickly.

“Felix.”

“What?”

A spark of hope kindled: He would tell me it was all a misunderstanding. That of course he was sure Sofia adored me and wanted nothing more than to spend time with me. How could she not?! He wanted to spend all his time with me, after all!

But he said, “Nothing. Okay. Night.”

* * *

—

Maybe it hadn’t sunk in that Sofia was really gone. Maybe I was just emotionally flattened by the revelation that my boyfriend—or whatever he was—possibly viewed our relationship as nothing but an obligation. Maybe both. Either way, after hanging up the phone with Dane, I’d cried myself to sleep.

The next morning I stumbled outside, eyes swollen, hair still wet from the rushed shower I’d taken in an attempt to wake up, and something exploded in a flash of light. I put my hand up and fumbled for the sunglasses I’d forgotten.

“Is Sofia Rainey in there?!”

“Where’s Sofia!?”

“Are you fucking Sofia Rainey!?”

“Turn this way!”

“What the fuck?” I yelled, voice cracking.

I cringed away from the light and sound. There were three of them, with cameras, surrounding me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Sofia’s my fucking sister, and how dare you talk about her like that. Get out of my way!”

I pushed the guy nearest to me and he gave way, but another, bigger guy stepped in front of me.

“Oh yeah, huh, you do look like her,” he said, and snapped my picture.