There was one thing you knew for certain; never trust Belly Conklin.
Conrad introduced you two. His brother Jeremiah’s girlfriend, he said, but you knew there was something else there. You could tell by the way she stared at him, the way she giggled and bit her fingernail when they talked. She barely got one word out and her hand was barely outstretched before you decided that you didn’t like her.
Was it harsh? Yes.
Did you care? Not really.
Something about her was just off. She was supposedly just his friend, his childhood friend, but those stares weren’t friendly. The way she touched him wasn’t platonic. You knew she had to have a little crush on him, who wouldn’t have a crush on Conrad Fisher? You certainly did.
It wasn’t until he was two beers and four cigarettes deep that he told you everything. The corsage. His mom. The fact that she’s his fucking ex.
You kept your mouth shut for the rest of the night, although you watched her like a hawk. She destroyed Conrad, left him an empty shell, moving right on to his brother, and yet she had the sheer audacity to stare at him longingly across the room.
You didn’t decide that you hated Belly Conklin until you held Conrad as he sobbed in your arms, tripping over his words as he tried to explain what was wrong. Belly, Jere, engaged. She was engaged to his brother, proudly sporting the ugliest ring in the world, all while leading Conrad on with little glances and smiles.
You’re sitting in bed, scrolling on your phone, trying to settle in for the night. Conrad was out at Jeremiah’s bachelor party, occasionally updating you with pictures of the inside of the bar, Jeremiah playing darts, and selfies of himself that had your fingers inching towards the spot between your thighs.
By the time you noticed his updates had stopped, your skincare was already slathered on and you were in bed, ready to doomscroll TikTok until 3 AM and get as little sleep as humanly possible.
You turn your light off and go to lay down when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, swinging your legs over the side and shoving your feet into your slippers, shuffling towards the front door.
You pull it open to reveal Conrad, standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking upset. “Hey, Con.”
He doesn’t speak at first, pushing past you and into your apartment. “Question.”
You shut the door and lock it. “Shoot.”
“Have you ever heard of Lacie Barone?” He turns to face you, leaning against your kitchen counter.
The name is definitely familiar. “Think so. Why?”
“She and Jere hooked up,” Conrad says, his hands still shoved in his pockets. His voice is so calm, so even, and you forget he’s mad for a second. “In Cabo. While he was with Belly.”
That’s where you heard her name from. You had a few friends at Finch College that loved to gossip. “Yeah, I heard.”
“And you just didn’t tell me?” He moves to cross his arms, chuckling. “You knew the whole time and didn’t say shit?”
“I thought you knew,” You say, approaching him. “Connie, everyone at Finch knows. I’m sure the whole town does too.”
Conrad sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “You thought I knew and I just wouldn’t be upset about it?”
“I don’t know, Con,” I say. “You keep your family shit private. Technically, this is family.”
His shoulders drop, his arms moving to cross over his stomach. “I confronted her on the beach. I told her about Jeremiah and she already knew. She knew and-and she didn’t tell me and she agreed to marry him.”
You sigh slightly. “Con-“
“She told me we were never anything,” Conrad’s voice breaks as he starts to cry. “She told me I’ll never be what Jere is to her.”
You step forward. “Conrad-“
“Fuck, {{user}}, I don’t know why to do, I don’t know how to get her back—“ He grabs you, his hands gripping your forearms. “Please, please, please, how do I get her back?”