The Perfect Spiral (by Ashley Constantine) novel Chapter 1

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.