Chapter 63 Chapter Fifty-Nine
Alex’s point of view
I told myself it was just a date.
That word felt manageable for now, at least that’s what it might end up leading to.
I repeated it in my head as I walked to meet Claire that Saturday afternoon, hands shoved into my jacket pockets, shoulders tense like I was bracing for impact.
‘It is just a date’
‘just to see if you can get your mind off Demi and get your relationship back to normal’
‘You have to prove that it was all an itch’.
Claire was waiting outside the café when I got there, scrolling on her phone.
She looked up when she saw me and smiled, the smile was warm, easy and unguarded.
"Hey Alex" she said softly
"Hey Claire," I replied.
No hesitation. No weight behind it. Just a simple greeting.
That should've felt good.
We went inside, ordered coffee, found a table near the window.
The conversations came easily enough, we talked about our senior classes, which teachers we liked and which ones we didn’t.
We also talked about music, our favorite artist, genre. Claire was a huge fan of summer walker, jhene aiko, PND, Bryson tiller, she said she loved RNB and that sparked an interest in me.
I also liked all of those artists and was a fan of RNB, I loved rap but RNB will forever be in my heart.
Subconsciously my mind drifted to Demi, Demi was a huge fan of PND, there isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t listen or sing along to partynextdoor.
I can still hear his singing voice as I’m seated here. His favorite PND song was loyal ft drake. He honestly loved any partynextdoor song that featured drake.
We had changed the topic and I started making jokes which was to my advantage because she started laughing at my jokes.
I also listened when she talked-which was rare because it was usually Demi who listened while I talk-.
I nodded in the right places at the right time.
From the outside, I knew exactly how it looked.
It looked like a casual date between two people, between a girl and a boy.
I caught my reflection in the glass at one point and barely recognized myself.
I looked relaxed. Comfortable. Like someone doing what he was supposed to be doing.
"This is nice," Claire said, stirring her drink. "I'm glad you said yes."
"Me too," I said automatically.
The words came out smoother than I expected.
And for a moment-just a moment-I think maybe this would work.
Maybe the tightness in my chest would loosen if I leaned into it hard enough.
We walked around afterward, drifting through shops, shoulders brushing occasionally.
When she slipped her hand into mine, I felt a jolt of surprise more than anything else.
I didn't pull away.
I told myself that meant something.
But the entire time, there was this low, persistent awareness humming under my skin.
I don’t know why I keep thinking about Demi.
Not in a sharp, immediate way, but in flashes.
The way he'd look at me when he was trying not to. The way silence between us used to feel full instead of strained.
I hated myself for it.
That night, Claire texted me.
Claire:
I had a really good time today.
I stared at the message longer than necessary.
Me:
Me too,
I typed back.
it wasn't a lie.
But, it just wasn't the whole truth.
.
.
By Monday, people knew.
They always did.
"You and Claire are official?" Kyle asked before I'd even put my bag down.
"We're... uh..seeing each other," I said.
The phrasing mattered to me, even if it didn't to anyone else.
Demi was there.
He didn't look at me when the question was asked.
Didn't react at all, as far as I could tell.
He kept scrolling on his phone, expression blank.
Too blank.
I waited for something, I wanted him to show anger, to be sarcastic, a sadistic part of me wanted him to show hurt.
But unfortunately, nothing came.
That scared me more than anything else.
Over the next few days, the contrast became impossible to ignore.
Claire was an openly affectionate person, the complete opposite of Demi.
She would touch my arm when she laughed.
Leaned into me during movies, whether it’s a romance or horror movie, it was like she wanted to be near me.
Kiss my cheek without hesitation.
And people noticed.
I can see the smile on their face, the team loved to tease me about it.
"You're somewhat glowing," my mom said one morning. "I knew it."
I smiled back, practiced and convincing.
But then my mind shifted to Demi-
Demi pulled further away as I got closer to Claire.
He stopped sitting near me altogether.
He found excuses to leave early.
He would stay quiet in group settings but it wasn’t like he was a talkative person at the start so no one really thought different of his behaviour, but I noticed.
When he laughed now, it didn't reach his eyes, his brown eyes didn’t hold that spark it usually does whenever he would smile, it looked like the lights were off and nobody was home.
I caught him watching us once, me and Claire.
Not staring.
Just... looking.
Like he was memorizing something he didn't want to remember.
My chest tightened painfully.
That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling again, replaying the way Claire's hand had fit into mine earlier.
The way it had felt fine, it felt comfortable.
But why wasn't that enough?
‘You wanted proof’ I reminded myself. This is it.
Still, the ache didn't go away.
.
.
A week into it, my younger sister-Bella- cornered me in the kitchen.
"You're dating Claire, right?" she asked.
"Yeah." I gave her a short answer.
She tilted her head, studying me. "Then why do you look like someone died?"
I scoffed. "I don't."
"You do," she said flatly. "And you keep checking your phone like you're waiting for someone who isn't texting you."
I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped.
She sighed. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you and Demi, but it's obvious something happened."
"It's nothing," I said.
She didn't look convinced. "Okay."
.
.
At school the next day, Demi didn't show up.
Not to first period. Not to second.
By lunch, people were whispering.
"Did Demi skip?"
"Is he sick?"
"He's never sick."
I tried not to care.
I failed.
By the end of the day, the weight of it sat heavy in my chest. I found myself standing outside his house without remembering the walk there, hands cold, heart pounding.
I didn't knock.
I couldn't.
I turned away, shame burning in my gut.
That night, Claire kissed me properly for the first time.
Not rushed.
Not awkward.
Slow and deliberate.
And I kissed her back.
I told myself this was what wanting was supposed to feel like.
But when I pulled away, breathless, the first thing I felt wasn't desire.
All I felt was guilt.
And somewhere deep down, beneath all the denial and fear, something whispered a truth I wasn't ready to face.
‘This doesn’t feel right’
If this was supposed to prove I didn't like men-
Why did it feel like I was losing the one person who mattered most?