“You used our names?”
Twenty-Eight
BROOKE
I’d deceived them from the beginning. Lied to them about everything. But suddenly, maintaining their identity within the scope of my article seemed like the ultimate betrayal.
“I—I only used your first names,” I countered weakly.
“But they’re our names,” Trey swore. “Do you have any idea what would happen if this got out? If any of my peers or students got hold of this information?”
My throat swelled. The tears were threatening to come again. I shook my head.
“I teach at Cornell, Brooke. Shit, I’m about to defend my thesis.”
“I— I know.”
“And Dante,” Trey went on. “He’s the CFO of a local company. For years he’s kept his personal and professional life entirely separate. And you go ahead and just—”
“What magazine are you writing this for?” Adam interrupted.
I must’ve gone white as a ghost, because suddenly they all stopped. I could feel them staring back at me, waiting on my answer. Looking down into my own lap, I could barely choke out the word.
“Cosmo.”
I heard a sharp intake of air. I had to wince and turn away.
“Cosmo?” demanded Trey. “As in… Cosmopolitan?”
“What the fuck Brooke?” cried Adam. He shook my phone at me. “Hundreds of thousands of people will see this!”
“Millions,” Dante corrected him.
“Okay, okay!” I blurted helplessly. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”
“And my parents,” Adam protested. “They’re super-conservative. I couldn’t even begin to break something like this to them.” In the storm of disappointment, his eyes found mine. “I mean one day, maybe. But not now. At least not until I was—”
“I’m sorry!” I cried again. “I—I promise, I’ll change the names! I can do that. I just… I left them this way temporarily because it was easier to relate to each of you. And to the way you… well…”
I trailed off, having completely lost my train of thought. I’d destroyed everything we’d built together! All of it, in an instant. All because of one stupid notebook.
No, not because of a stupid notebook, the new voice chided me. Don’t blame the notebook, Brooke. Blame your actions.
They were slumped back in their seats now, all three of them regarding me coldly. I wanted them to keep the anger going. To keep berating me for what I’d done, so I might eventually get to the point where I could feel somewhat better.
But somehow I knew I wouldn’t feel better. Not about this.
“So you sought us out for an assignment,” Adam said at last. “Made up a fake persona. Hooked up with us — wholly and completely — for the past two weeks, all so you could take notes for your one big article?”
I dropped my head into my hands. Now the tears did flow. I couldn’t stop them.
“Did you have fun at least?” Dante asked, mockingly. “Screwing us all this time? Getting your rocks off, while getting your story?”
Trey shook his head back and forth. “Sportfucking,” he said, with a bitter laugh. “That’s all it was.”
“No!” I said abruptly. “That’s not true at all.”
“Oh, but it is,” he replied. It hurt so much, seeing his beautiful mouth curled into a sneer. “It always is.”