Rachel’s correct, Griffin’s a dastardly cheater

It’s the conviction in Rachel’s voice that convinces you that she must be right. That, and the prospect of making a hot girl happy. Only good things could come from that, you think.

That’s how you find yourself looking sternly at Griffin, ready to pick apart his story.

“Tell me again, why do you think that Rachel’s cheating?”

“It’s obvious,” Griffin laughs bitterly. “Everybody knows that cheaters project. So if Rachel’s coming here with her unfounded accusations, well, I don’t know about you, but I think it’s pretty obvious what’s really going on.”

“Yeah, it’s obvious. You’re the one that’s cheating,” Rachel snipes back. “That’s why you’re the one accusing me of sleeping with other guys… Without a shred of evidence to back you up, either!”

“You’ve been acting suspicious these last couple of days,” Griffin says, and then he folds his arms over his chest, staring at you. “Don’t you agree, Alex?”

So he still thinks you’re on his side? Well, it’s time to correct that.

“No, not at all,” you say. “I haven’t noticed anything off about Rachel. But you, on the other hand… now that’s a very different story.”

This wins you a wide smile from Rachel, who blows you a kiss from the other side of the room.

“What? You’re seriously going with her story? It makes no… no sense!” Griffin sputters.

“Let’s talk about what you’ve done then,” you say. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been avoiding certain topics. Deflecting blame. That’s not a good look.”

“What’s your point?” Griffin asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Simple,” you say. “Just answer this question. Yes or no. Have you fucked Mars?”

“Me?” Griffin says, taken aback by the question.

“Of course you,” Rachel say, leaning forwards in her seat. She gives Griffin a hard, searching look, under which Griffin squirms.

“Uh… yes, but—”

“So that’s that,” you say, cutting Griffin off. “Case closed. Griffin’s a cheater. He’s scum.” You catch Rachel’s eye, and say: “You deserve better than that.”

Griffin stares at you with a blank expression, his jaw opening and closing in silence.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he roars, the anger directed at both you and Rachel. “Fuckin’ whore, I should’ve known that you’d end up doing this to me!”

He slams the couch as he gets up, sending the cushions next to him flying into the air. He picks one up and whips it at Rachel. Her eyes widen in shock, barely reacting to it, surely not going to dodge in time. But then you’re there, intercepting the cushion with a heroic leap, smacking it out of the air with a karate chop.

Griffin picks up another cushion, extends his arm back to throw it at the two of you, the rage burning bright in his eye, when he suddenly drops it.

“Whatever,” he says quietly, shuffling away, stepping over the cushions littered on the floor. “The two of you aren’t worth it. I have no idea how you’re so delusional, but I guess you are.”

With that, he leaves the lounge, leaving just you and Rachel alone.

She hurriedly gets up out of her couch and wraps her arms around your waist, saying: “Thanks for saving me. I thought he was going to take my head off.”

“Nonsense,” you say, enjoying the feel of her slender arms around you. You put an arm around her shoulder. “It would have stung a bit. At most it would have left a bruise.”

“But still,” she insists, “you stood up for me.”

“It’s not hard when it’s the right thing to do,” you say, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Aww… that’s sweet.” she murmurs, putting her head against your chest. When she looks up some seconds later, you see her eyes are wet with tears. “Why must I cry?” she gulps. “I hate him. We broke up. It’s over.”

“It hurts to be cheated on,” you say, hugging her tighter against you, rubbing her back.

She dimly nods, her head still pressing against your chest as she does so, and then you see her smile up at you through her tears.

“Guess you were right,” she says quietly.

“What about?” you ask.

“I deserve to be with someone better,” she says.

It takes a couple minutes for Rachel to compose herself—or at least get the tears out of her eyes—and the two of you cozy up on the same couch, talking quietly. People begin to filter into the lounge again, hardly seeming to notice the two of you laughing over some dumb joke or another. At some point in the night, you crack open the books again, with Rachel still by your side. You work on your mutual assignments in silence, and by the time one in the morning rolls around, you realise that your eyes are sore and your hand is cramped from all the reading and writing that you’ve done, so you decide to turn in for the night.

Rachel +45
Griffin -45