#Chapter 3: Mystery Lover

  Celeste

  

  Reality crashed over me like a cold wave, jolting me out of the intoxicating haze. I pushed Matt away abruptly,slapping his hand away from my mask before he could remove it.

  

  “This was a one-time thing,” I stammered, hastily buttoning up my blouse. “I want to keep the mystery.”

  

  “But wait,” Matt protested, reaching out a hand. “Leave me some way to contact you. I—”

  

  “No,” I replied, cutting him off. “Like I said. A one time thing.”

  

  Matt shot me a pained look at I finished buttoning my shirt and climbed out of the bathtub. My cheeks were still red from the way that he made me feel, but I knew that it couldn’t happen again.

  

  He was popular on campus, and he was my brother’s best friend. It would be doom for both of us if we did this ever again. I could only imagine the hate he would receive for fucking Celeste, the fat, ugly girl.

  

  “Please,” he said, standing. His tall form towered over me in the darkness, blocking my way to the door. I felt my panties stir again as he loomed over me. “I want to see you again.”

  

  Something in the hockey captains’ demeanor made me soften. I chewed my lower lip as I looked up at him, considering whether this was a good idea or not.

  

  Sexting would be okay, I thought to myself. We can sext a bit, and he’ll lose interest eventually when he finds out that I won’t see him in person. But it could be fun in the meantime.

  

  Finally, I sighed and nodded. “Look me up on social media,” I murmured. “My account is called Red_Moon. You can find me there.”

  

  Before Matt could answer, I sidestepped past him. I slipped out of the bathroom, leaving him alone with nothing but a fake name and a memory.

  

  After checking to make sure that the coast was clear, I hurried to my room before Matt could follow me.

  

  I shut and locked the door behind me, leaning against the wood as I gasped for air before I discarded the half-unbuttoned blouse and the mask. The real Celeste needed to reemerge, the quiet sister, the unnoticed girl.

  

  Matt was drunk enough, and the bathroom was dark enough, where he would never notice that I was the same person so long as I changed my clothes.

  

  As I rifled through my closet for some new clothes, I thought back on my history with Matt.

  

  While Matt had never partaken in the cruel jokes that Jack's friends seemed to relish, he'd never shown interest in me either.

  

  Our relationship had always been frosty, distant. He was my brother’s friend, of course. It was only natural that he would all but ignore me, the meek and quiet little sister.

  

  In fact, I didn’t think that he had ever even heard my voice before. We never talked, and I always stayed quiet and out of the way when Jack had his friends over.

  

  But the thought of him discovering the truth filled me with dread. The image of his face contorted with disdain was too painful to bear, and my brother would be even more furious. My brother had hit me a few times in my life; he would certainly hit me over something like this.

  

  My phone buzzed again. I walked over to my bed in my underwear and picked it up, frowning as I saw the message on the screen.

  

  Hello? No photos? I’m gonna block you if you don’t send me anything, bitch.

  

  Normally, a message like this would have sent me into overdrive in order to keep the relationship going. I would have sprinted to the mirror to take some lewd photos, but now I didn’t care.

  

  Rolling my eyes, I threw my phone down on my bed. My mind was too consumed by Matt to care about this other guy.

  

  I shook my head, trying to dispel the fantasy, but the memories were too fresh, too captivating.

  

  Suddenly, I heard the sound of the key turning in my door, followed by the door to my room bursting open,

  

  In strode Jack.

  

  “Celeste, why the hell aren't you doing your job?” he hissed. “Guests are pouring their own drinks!”

  

  “H-Hey!” I yelled, quickly grabbing a towel off of my chair to cover myself with. “You could have knocked.”

  

  Jack paused, his disdainful eyes flickering up and down my semi-nude body. “Why the hell are you in your underwear?”

  

  I felt my throat almost close up. “I-I spilled punch on myself. I came up here to get changed.”

  

  Jack looks at me for a minute longer. Thankfully, he seemed to believe me; but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t furious.

  

  “You’re such a fucking airhead,” he growled, turning on his heel. “Get changed and get your fat ass back downstairs. Just for this, I’m taking away your allowance for the week.”

  

  “Really?” I asked. “Just because I spilled some—”

  

  Suddenly, Jack turned back around and pointed his finger at me, his upper lip curling back to reveal an angry, hateful grimace. “Don’t argue with me,” he snarled. “You know what I’m capable of. Get downstairs; and put on something decent. You looked like shit before and you’re embarrassing me.”

  

  I swallowed, unable to muster up a response—not that it would have mattered. Jack turned and left the room, slamming my door behind him, before I could have said anything anyway.

  

  That familiar, authoritative tone of my brother’s grated on my nerves. More than anything, though, I was scared of him. I did know what he was capable of; I still had the scar on my hip from the last time he hit me with his belt. It probably wouldn’t go away.

  

  I hated his domineering attitude, his superior nature. But we'd grown up depending on each other, and I was used to following his lead.

  

  Once, when I was fifteen, I tried running away. I had saved a little bit of my allowance money to afford a motel for a few nights, but I got chased by a group of nasty teens and beaten up.

  

  I wound up going home with two black eyes, where I kneeled on the floor and begged for Jack’s forgiveness. He took me back in and made me promise never to try to run again. I quickly learned after that, that although things weren’t good at home, Jack did keep me safe.

  

  Back at the party, the cruel jabs about my appearance resumed, the laughter stinging my ears.

  

  I gritted my teeth, maintaining a calm exterior, my eyes catching sight of Matt.

 

  “Matt, that chick asked me if you were interested in going to prom with her.” Jack points to a pretty, slim girl. She bows her head coyly.

 

  Matt showed a smile and seemed a little distracted as he said, "I'm not sure who I'm going with ...... yet but I think there might be a better candidate. Tell her I'm sorry."

 

  He was going to prom with someone else. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

  

  That night, alone in my room, I drifted into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of Matt.

  

  His touch, his smell, everything felt so vivid, so real. His fingers, his lips, his tongue. He held me close, calling me beautiful while his hands wandered up and down my body. I didn’t hate myself during those moments; in fact, I felt just as beautiful as he described.

 

  He hugged me. I was lifted up like a princess as he twirled me around the center of the dance floor. Over and over again.

  

  And then, in the privacy of the dream, he reached out to remove my mask…