#Chapter 4: Chocolate and Tears

Celeste

 

The next morning, I awoke to the feeling of wetness in my panties, a pounding sensation in my heart, and a friend request from Matt.

 

My heart fluttered with a strange, thrilling blend of fear and excitement as I accepted it. Within minutes, a message appeared.

 

“Have we met before?” he asked.

 

I chewed my lip, thinking for a moment before replying, “No. Last night was my first time at one of Jack's parties.”

 

“So you know Jack?” He inquired, his digital words laced with curiosity.

 

I paused, my fingers hovering over the keys, but I didn't respond. How could I respond? What if I said that I did know Jack, and Matt asked him about it? Jack would see right through it and would expose me immediately. I would be ruined.

 

“It's okay,” he wrote after a few minutes of silence, noticing that I had left him on read. “I won't pry, Mystery Girl. Let’s find another way to get to know one another…”

 

His words sent a flutter of joy through my heart.

 

“And what would you suggest?” I shot back. My hand instinctively worked its way down beneath my blanket to touch myself, as it often did when I was sexting with guys online. But my hand stopped when I received the next message.

 

“What do you like to do for fun?” Matt asked.

 

I paused, my fingers still hovering over the waistband of my underwear. In my experience with sexting guys, none of them had ever asked questions like this. The conversations always—always—immediately evolved into the topic of sex.

 

Maybe Matt really was different.

 

My hand pulled away from my underwear, and I tapped out a response.

 

“I like a lot of things,” I replied.

 

“Such as?” Matt’s responses were quick. He didn’t seem like the type to leave a girl on read for hours to build up suspense and manipulate her.

 

I chewed my lip for a moment, thinking. I could have simply lied and made up some fake interests, something to make myself seem more sexy and mysterious. But for some odd reason, I found myself wanting to be honest.

 

“I like dancing,” I replied. “And reading. I read a lot, actually.”

 

“Oh?” Matt answered, again almost immediately. “Do you take dance classes?”

 

“No. I just dance in private. I don’t like being seen.”

 

Matt didn’t respond for a few minutes. The longer that the three bubbles went without appearing, the more anxious I became. Maybe I scared him off by admitting that I was shy. Maybe he could tell already that I was a loser.

 

But then, those three bubbles popped up.

 

“You're interesting, Mystery Girl,” Matt finally commented. The compliment ignited a warm, giddy feeling inside me.

 

But reality, harsh and cold, was waiting just outside my digital haven. I had class in just thirty minutes, so I had to rush to get out of bed and get ready. This conversation with Matt would have to wait until another time. I didn’t respond to his final message.

 

…

 

The Moon Goddess Festival ball approached.

 

That morning, I arrived at class to see my best friend, Fiona, waiting for me by the door. She had her books clutched to her chest and a smile on her round, cherub-like face.

 

“Hey, Celeste,” Fiona cooed as I approached, her long eyelashes fluttering. “Have a good weekend?”

 

I shrugged, not wanting to mention my rendezvous with my brother’s best friend. “The usual,” I replied as we walked into the lecture hall together. “Nothing interesting.”

 

As soon as we walked into class, it seemed as though the frenzy of invitations and chocolates had already begun. I sighed and sank down into my seat, knowing that I wouldn’t be getting either.

 

This would be my first year attending the Moon Goddess Festival ball, as it was my first year in college and high schoolers were too young to attend. But I had already resolved years ago that I would never even be considered for a date.

 

“Chin up, buttercup,” Fiona said gently as she sat beside me, nudging me with her elbow. “We can go together.”

 

I shook my head, watching as a nerdy but cute boy scanned the room, his eyes landing on Fiona. The two of them waved at each other, and he began to approach.

 

“I can’t go,” I said, forcing a smile as the boy approached. “Besides… It looks like you’ve already got a suitor.”

 

The boy stopped in front of us without so much as looking at me. Fiona was the prettier one out of the two of us; of course guys wanted her. She wasn’t a supermodel or especially popular, so the jocks never paid her much mind, but she had no problems with the sweet, quiet, nerdy cute boys like the one standing in front of us.

 

“Um… Fiona?” the boy asked, his slender hands clutching a little box. “I’m Devon.”

 

“Hi.” Fiona shot him a smile. His face turned beet red, and without a word, he held the box out for her.

 

“I don’t know if you already have a date to the ball or anything like that, but… Here.”

 

Fiona gingerly took the box. A little envelope rested on top, likely with the boy’s number written inside. Fiona coolly smiled again and thanked him, and he walked away.

 

“See?” I said. “It’s not even eight-thirty yet and you’ve already got one invitation.”

 

Fiona shrugged and popped open the box to reveal several delicate chocolates. She reached in and took one out, handing it to me.

 

“Here,” she murmured, smiling warmly at me. “A chocolate for my favorite girl.”

 

I couldn’t help but smile. Fiona, my best friend since high school, would always be there for me. She was the one person in the world who I really, truly trusted.

 

“Thanks,” I said, taking the chocolate.

 

The day wore on, and one by one, the girls received their invitations. By the end of the day, it was only me and a chubby boy from my English class who were left unasked.

“Hey,” one girl said as she passed by. “You two should go together.”

 

The boy, in his bitterness, scoffed at the thought of going with me. “Yeah, right,” he muttered as he flipped through his notebook. “Even I have standards.”

 

His words were a blow to my already fragile self-esteem.

 

I glanced up at the girl; I knew her. She was Sabrina, one of the popular freshmen. She had a stack of chocolate boxes and envelopes in her slender hands; the pick of the litter. She was hot, blonde, and nothing like me. With a smirk, she plopped the boxes down on the desk in front of me.

 

“Here, piggy piggy,” she cooed, sliding the boxes toward me. “I don’t eat that junk. You look like you could inhale it in one sitting, though.”

 

I frowned, shoving the boxes back toward her.

 

“No thanks,” I said. “I don’t want them.”

 

Sabrina scoffed and flounced away, leaving me sitting between the chubby boy and the stack of boxes.

 

Huffing, I walked over to the trash can and dumped them all in, resulting in a chorus of murmurs and spiteful giggles around me. I tried my best to ignore it, though, and kept my head down for the remainder of class.

 

It was snowing heavily after class, and so I called Jack to come and pick me up. He obliged, although reluctantly and only because I promised to cook dinner that night.

 

A few hours later, well after my classes had ended, he finally pulled up.

 

I held my tongue as I walked up to the car, holding my jacket closely around my shoulders as the snow dumped down on me. But when I walked up to the passenger side, I saw that it was already occupied.

 

My face went bright red as my eyes met a familiar sight through the window.

 

Matt.

 

Jack rolled down the window while Matt stared coldly out through the windshield.

 

“Are you gonna get in, or are you just gonna stand there and gawk?” Jack asked, his tone laced with annoyance.

 

I quickly climbed into the back seat, huddling into the corner and staring out the window. Beside me were two stacks of chocolate boxes; tokens from their myriad of admirers. Both Jack and Matt were popular and handsome, so it was no surprise.

 

As Jack pulled out of the campus, his eyes landed on me in the rearview mirror. A cruel smirk twisted his lips as he taunted, “No chocolates for you, Celeste?” he asked.

 

I shook my head. “No.”

 

Jack scoffed, his next words biting. “Maybe if you took better care of your appearance…”

 

My heart sank. I cast a desperate look at Matt, hoping for some sign of disapproval.

 

But he remained silent, his attention fixed on the road ahead.

 

The sting of his indifference cut deeper than Jack's words, a silent confirmation of the insecurities that gnawed at my self-worth.

 

Matt would serve as no source of comfort so long as he knew who I was; he only liked the persona of the Mystery Girl from the party, the girl from nowhere. If he knew that it was me behind the mask, he likely would have retched right there in his seat.

 

As we drove home in the fading winter light, I clung to the memory of our online conversations, a beacon of hope amidst the biting reality.