The Perfect Spiral

I was crouched in Andrew’s closet, knees pressed to my chest, hidden as I waited for him to come home. He had no idea what was coming.

No, I wasn’t some psycho killer. Andrew was my boyfriend of two years, and we hadn’t seen each other in days. Exams, study sessions, late-night cramming—I was at UCLA, studying mechanical engineering, which kept me crazy busy.

Andrew was studying medicine, so finding time to be together was tough. I was taking matters into my own hands, sneaking in for some surprise sex. I was wearing nothing but a lacy black lingerie set I’d picked out just for him.

I heard the front door of the apartment open and felt a flutter in my chest. I was so excited to see his face when he saw me in my sexy new outfit.

But then I heard it—a woman’s laugh.

I watched through the narrow slit in the closet door as Andrew and some girl moved into his room, already kissing. Clothes flew. She shoved him onto the bed, straddled him like she’d done it many times before.

“Oh my god, yes,” she moaned as they started.

She arched back and went up and down, her breasts bouncing as she moved. I watched in horror as Andrew gripped her hips and thrust into her with the same passion and gasping murmurs he used with me. It was all too familiar—down to the way he whispered her name.

She didn’t whisper though—she yelled.

“Shit, Andrew! Right... there!... Mmmmm, right there, baby!”

He grabbed her breasts roughly, his hands full and greedy as he grunted with effort. She threw her head back, moaning loudly, then looked down at him with a wicked smile. “Say it,” she demanded, her voice breathless. “Say I’m the best you’ve ever had. Better than her.”

Andrew didn’t hesitate.

“You are, you’re... better... than her,” he panted, each word a grunt, “The... best...”

I couldn’t take any more.

“What the actual fuck!?” I yelled as I slammed my way out of the closet.

“Holy shit!” Andrew screamed as he literally threw her off him. She yelped as she landed with a thud on the floor.

Andrew struggled to get off the bed, wrapping himself in the sheets as he tried to approach me. The girl scrambled to cover herself, grabbing for her clothes.

I glared at him, chest heaving. “I came here to surprise you,” I spat, voice trembling with fury. “I was in the closet—waiting—for you. In this fucking lingerie. For you.”

His eyes flicked down my body, even now, and he had the nerve to whisper, “You look amazing. That set is—”

“Fuck you,” I snapped, cutting him off as I grabbed my sweatpants and yanked them up over my hips. I pulled on my hoodie with shaking hands.

I had to go. I didn’t want him to see me cry. I headed for the door.

“Alex, please, let’s talk about it. I love you so much, more than anything.” He had the audacity to try to take my hand.

“Don’t touch me, you cheating piece of shit! If you loved me that much, you wouldn’t have some blonde bimbo bouncing on you, Drew. There’s nothing more to talk about. WE’RE OVER! I’M DUMPING YOU!”

My rage was a ticking time bomb, and I knew I needed to leave before I did something I’d regret.

He stepped in between me and the door, blocking my way with his half-naked, pleading mess of a body. His eyes were wide, desperate, and for a second, I thought he might actually drop to his knees.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” I said.

“Alex, please, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

I shoved at his chest, trying to push past him, but he grabbed my arm—hard. His fingers dug in, and for a split second, his face twisted with something I didn’t recognize. Desperation? Anger? Panic?

My hand flew up on instinct and slapped him across the cheek. The sound cracked through the room, sharp and final.

“Babe, I’m—” he stammered, reaching for me again.

Wrong move.

I balled my fist and drove it straight into his nose. Hard. Having three older brothers teaches you how to throw a punch.

My hand throbbed with the impact, but the pain was nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing him reel back, his hand flying to his bleeding nose.

The other girl, half-dressed now, stood up and sneered, “He’s been trying to get rid of you for months. He told me everything. Said you were clingy and boring. I’m giving him everything he ever wanted.”

Her voice was smug, like she thought she’d won something. Like she thought I’d just crumble.

Instead, I smiled.

“Oh, did he now? That’s funny—he told me the exact same thing about the girl before me. Said she was needy. Dramatic. Drained him. Sound familiar?”

She blinked, her mouth opening slightly.

“At least I had the class to wait until he actually broke up with her before I started fucking him,” I added, every syllable laced with acid. “But hey, maybe low standards are more your thing.”

I slammed the door behind me and rushed to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, the tears started to fall, my sobs echoing in the small space.

I stepped out of the building into the warm Los Angeles night. I walked half a block and found a bench in a park. I pulled out my phone and dialed my roommate Andy, but she didn’t answer, so I called my other lifeline, my brother.

My thumb trembled as I hit the contact, vision blurred from tears, chest still tight with everything I’d just witnessed. But when the line picked up, it wasn’t my brother’s voice on the other end.

“Alex?” the deep, gravelly voice said. “Why the hell are you calling me?”

My breath caught. “Knox?”

Of course. Of all the people in my phone, I’d accidentally called Knox Carter—my brother’s best friend, the guy who used to eat dinner at our house five nights a week, and now just happened to be one of the most famous quarterbacks in the NFL.

I hadn’t seen him in person in years, but I’d seen him on enough magazine covers to know what he looked like: a muscular build, tanned skin, piercing blue eyes, and that annoyingly perfect beard stubble. The kind of face that made brands throw endorsement deals at him and girls everywhere lose their minds.

And right now, that face was on the other end of the line.

He sounded older, rougher—but I knew that voice like I knew my own heartbeat.

“Alex,” he said again, voice gentler this time, but edged with concern. “Are you crying?”

I sniffled, hastily wiping my face. “No. It’s nothing. Wrong call. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t lie to me.” The sharpness was back in his tone, fierce and protective in a way that made my chest ache. “What happened? Where are you?”

“It’s fine, I’m just—”

“Alex. Where. Are. You.”

“I’m in L.A., Knox. What does it matter? Aren’t you in New York?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m in town. Photoshoot. Just wrapped. I’m on my way.”

My heart skipped. “Wait—what? Knox, no, you don’t have to—”

“I’m already in the car, baby doll. Tell me where you are right now.”

I hesitated, then gave him the address.

“Stay right there. Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”

“Knox, that’s not necessary, I’m—”

“No one makes you cry,” he said, low and lethal. “Not on my watch. Not ever. I’ll be there in ten.”

The line went dead.

My hands were still shaking, but for a whole new reason. Knox Carter—my childhood enemy, the one who used to pull my braids and call me a know-it-all—was on his way to see me.

But he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was the NFL’s number one bachelor, the man with a smirk that had millions of girls squealing worldwide.

And he was coming for me.

I didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified.