Chapter 4: Fallout

"Smack!"

The slap cracked through the room, echoing off the walls.

"Derek, what the hell is wrong with you?" Nicole’s eyes burned, her hand still mid-air. Her chest heaved, eyes darting everywhere but my face. She looked like she wanted to scream but couldn’t find the words.

"No, Nicole, let me explain…"

"Seriously? You’re with me, but you can’t even tell us apart? What is wrong with you, Derek?"

"No, I—please, let me explain." My words got stuck in my throat. There was no way to tell her about the first time, how I’d mistaken Natalie for her and kissed her hard. It sounded pathetic, like something from a bad soap opera.

But if I kept quiet, how could I ever convince her I wasn’t a monster?

"You two just look too much alike… I got scared I’d mix you up."

She glared at me, voice trembling. "What’s wrong with you? You think Natalie would sleep with you? Are you that gross? I must be insane to stay with you."

"Nicole, I was wrong. You’re really misunderstanding—"

"Did you two ever do anything?" she shot back, eyes boring into mine.

"No, really, no."

"I don’t believe you."

"It’s just—you two look so alike. I figured I should ask, otherwise… how would I know for sure…"

"If you never did anything, why are you even worried about that?" Another slap, sharp and stinging.

I watched helplessly as tears spilled down her cheeks. She yanked on her jeans, grabbed her purse, and slammed the door so hard a picture frame rattled off the wall.

I sat there, feeling empty, helpless. The more I tried to dig myself out, the deeper the hole got.

I just had to wait—wait for her to cool off, to come back so I could say I was sorry the right way.

I dropped back onto the bed. The sheets were still warm from her body, the faint scent of her perfume clinging to the air—mixed with the bitterness of regret.

How did something so intimate turn into a train wreck so fast?

I dragged a hand through my hair, not even bothering to tidy up. I cracked open a bottle of red, taking swigs straight from the neck, hoping to numb the ache in my chest.

If this was what broke us up, it wouldn’t be worth it. I knew that, deep down.

I’d known Nicole for six months—our first date was at a fall festival, the kind with hayrides and kettle corn. We fell for each other instantly. She was just like her name—gentle, nurturing, always putting others before herself.

She was gorgeous, yes, but it was her kindness that hooked me. And her sister? She was Nicole’s soft spot—the one person Nicole would protect, no matter what. Even from me.

I don’t know how much I drank, but the room started to spin. Sometime later, the front door creaked open and Nicole shuffled in, looking wrung out.

I lurched to my feet, grabbing her hand. "Sorry, sorry, it’s all my fault."

She looked at me, stone-faced. "Are you sick?"

"Don’t be mad, okay? I really screwed up."

She rolled her eyes. "No, did you seriously get hammered by yourself? I just got off a double shift and I’m dead on my feet. Don’t dump your drama on me."

Suddenly the booze burned off in a rush of sweat, my shirt sticking to my back. Was it possible—just possible—that the woman earlier wasn’t Nicole?

"Wait—just now… that wasn’t you?"

"What are you talking about? You’re wasted." She nudged my head away with her palm, gentle but final.

That touch sobered me up fast, but left my thoughts in a tangle.

"Whatever. I’m going to lie down."

Before I could stop her, she turned the corner, eyes flicking from the tangled sheets to the empty condom wrapper. For a second, the room was dead silent except for the hum of the old AC.