Helen

Marcus lied to me. Maybe that's dramatic. He didn't lie about where he was going or who he'd be with. He just conveniently forgot to mention that his bachelor party would have strippers. Normally, maybe I could laugh it off. But Marcus isn't just anybody. I know his history. He told me himself because he wanted our relationship to have no secrets. Back in college, he slept with his best friend's longtime girlfriend. His best friend found out and cut both of them off. Their friendship never recovered. So when my friends tell me, "Helen, you already know he's capable of cheating," I can't exactly argue. Then comes the terrible suggestion. "Download Tinder." I refuse. They keep pushing. "Just look. Marcus gets his bachelor party. You can at least see what's out there." I know it's wrong. I know being angry doesn't make it right. I download it anyway. The app opens. I swipe through a few profiles— Then freeze. My eyes widen. "No way..." I know that face. Marcus showed me pictures when he told me the story. That's him. Marcus's former best friend. One of my friends leans over my shoulder and gasps. "Oh my God, Helen. He's so much hotter than Marcus." "Shut up." I should swipe left. Instead, my thumb moves right. Minutes later my phone vibrates. IT'S A MATCH! My stomach drops. Then another notification appears. A message from him. "Wait... is this Marcus's Helen?" I stare at the screen. He knows exactly who I am.