Shane
I watch the movie from a distance, after letting Konnor choose what to watch. Meanwhile, the perpetual feeling of not understanding anything that's going on follows me like a curse. Ever since Vanessa and Melissa arrived, everything's gotten more complicated—but it seems my usually absent intuition has finally woken up a little. I look around and see how parallel love stories are slowly forming around my beautiful Wenn and me, and I don't get how no one else seems to notice. It's starting to worry me.
Maeson, usually calm, with eternal patience and wisdom, now looks like a helpless child haunted by the clear spirit of Vanessa's beauty and madness. Ever since he saw her on the beach, he hasn't been the same. He tries to act like nothing affects him, but I've noticed every gesture—how he seems to lose control when she's nearby, especially when Konnor gets close to her. Who would've thought my buddy was the possessive type? His not-so-subtle glances and his very much over-the-top reaction at the party made Zack and me start a bet. He says Vanessa will make the first move. I say Maeson will crack first—his self-control vanishes when she shows up. And judging by how he held Vanessa's hand in a gesture he thinks no one noticed, I think I'm going to win.
Konnor can deny all he wants that Vanessa isn't his type—he told me that the other day while we were fixing a window at home. But his flirty remarks, though typical of him, have been softer than usual, like he actually cares what Vanessa thinks of him. And that gives me all the clues I need. That, and the fact that drunk people rarely lie with their actions—and that almost-kiss? That was a trigger for everyone. I just hope the triangle that seems to be forming doesn't cause the kind of damage it could in our group.
Then there's Zack and Melissa. Their interactions are borderline comedic. It's like they take turns losing their minds—when one opens up, the other shuts down; when one speaks, the other goes quiet. But always with intense glances in between. And I wasn't even in the car with them, but according to Konnor, they looked like a married couple arguing over who was going to do the dishes—and they'd just met. I don't know what could come out of a guy with a girlfriend and a girl fresh out of a breakup.
Oh, and how could I forget the most important part—my sweet, funny girlfriend seems to have been abducted by aliens and replaced with a tiny ogre who wakes up grumpy until she gets food and affection. The jokes that used to make her laugh now bring tears, and she doesn't seem to see me as her favorite person anymore.
Memory.
It all started a few weeks ago, when we went to get our favorite food from that hidden stall tucked between noisy streets, where the oil bubbles like it has a life of its own and the smell of fried food hugs you like an overly affectionate uncle who doesn't respect personal space.
Wenn ordered her usual, but when they handed her the plate, she looked at it like they'd served her betrayal in sauce. She frowned, sniffed the air like a confused bloodhound, and then asked me, very seriously:
"Does this smell like onions or bad decisions?"
I laughed. She didn't.
Then she cried—because the fork was plastic. Literally. She cried. Over the fork. Then she laughed. Then she asked for fries. Then she yelled at me for not offering fries before she asked.
I just wanted to eat.
Then she told me she loved me, that the world was beautiful, that we should adopt a cat—and five minutes later asked if I thought cats judge humans for their choice of partners.
I didn't know what to say. I just nodded, like someone who accepts they're trapped in a parallel dimension.
The strangest part was that after all that emotional chaos, she ate three burgers, two ice creams, and stole half my juice. When I asked if she was okay, she said:
"I'm perfect. I just have existential hunger."
Since that day, I started suspecting my girlfriend had been replaced by a beta version with mood glitches and an appetite that defies physics.
End of memory.
And here I am now, sitting with the guys, all of us wearing different expressions. After our sweet Zack decided to bare his claws and throw out a comment that even Konnor seemed to think crossed the line.
The air turned heavy the moment the girls left. Maeson crossed his arms, jaw tense, and for the first time since I've known him, he looked truly angry—more assertive, like he'd suddenly put on a coat of authority he only wears when it's work-related. Zack shifted uncomfortably on the couch, his usual crooked smile gone, and Connor was so serious he didn't even crack his usual weather joke.
"Zack, can you explain what that was?" Maeson asked, voice low and heavy. It wasn't his usual calm—there was something restrained in it, a kind of disappointment, which is worse.
Zack opened his mouth, then closed it, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to clear his thoughts.
"I don't know… It just came out. It wasn't that bad, right? Just a comment."
Connor leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked him straight in the eye.
"Look, I've said some wild stuff, but what you said today… even by my standards, that was way out of line, bro. I wouldn't have dared. Vanessa gave you a look that could kill a bear."
Zack lowered his head, biting his lip.
"It's just… everything feels off. I feel like I can't say anything right. Melissa… I don't know how to handle things with her."
Maeson sighed, letting the air out like he was trying not to say something he'd regret.
"If the vibe feels off to you, imagine how Melissa feels. What you said wasn't fair, and it wasn't funny. Sometimes you need to think twice before speaking—especially when you don't know someone well."
I took a breath, trying to soften the moment without skipping what mattered.
"Zack, we've all messed up at some point, but there are things you just don't say—especially not like that. If something crosses your mind, whatever it is, think before you speak. You have to treat women with respect, especially knowing anyone could be going through things you can't even imagine."
Zack looked at us, eyes shining with a mix of confusion and guilt.
"I didn't mean to hurt her. I swear. It's just… right now I don't even understand myself."
Connor let out a dry laugh.
"Hey, we all screw up. Just… go apologize. And next time, remember that some silences are worth more."
I glance at Konnor, a bit puzzled—those words coming from him feel like peak double standard.
Maeson stood up, giving Zack a pat on the shoulder.
"Do it. And don't shut yourself away. No one here's judging you, but I do expect you to learn."
Zack nodded, that mix of regret and determination to fix things in his eyes, and headed to his room, hands in his pockets like he was searching for something to anchor him back to reality.
Connor and Maeson stayed in the living room, and I sat beside them, feeling like the house had changed since the girls arrived. We exchanged nervous laughs and half-serious jokes—because that's who we are: life throws us drama, and we answer with laughter and advice, even if we know nothing gets fixed that easily.