Page 43 of Glamour and Grit

The sooner we find my brother, the sooner I can get away from Dane. I thought I liked him. Hell, I thought he liked me! But now I’m starting to think he got all that he wanted from me already. I never should have slept with him. That was dumb. I let myself believe that there was a connection going on between us. A real, true connection.

I sure feel stupid now. This whole thing can’t end soon enough. Please, God, let us find Justin soon so I don’t have to keep feeling hurt and ignored by Dane.

My phone dings, and I reach for it eagerly. I don’t care who it is, even if it’s a spam text I’m going to answer it. Anything to get out of this miserable, heavy silence.

To my delight, it’s one of my girlfriends, Chloe.

Girl, I’m at your place, where u at? HMU and let’s go get a pedi

A smile stretches over my lips as I text back.

I’m not home and won’t be for a few days at least. Believe it or not, my life is in danger.

It takes about fifteen minutes of back and forth texts for me to fully explain the situation with Moreno and my brother.

OMG, I’m getting TF out of here, then, in case the mafia comes back. Are you all right?

I’m fine, physically. I’m kind of pissed at myself RN tho.

Why?

I confess to my shenanigans with Dane. Chloe is her typically subtle and supportive self.

Sheesh you just met the guy.

Like literally yesterday but…

Under no circumstances.

Think I’m judging you.

She hammers out about a dozen emoji as I roll my eyes and groan at her antics. Eggplant, rain, and so on.

“Okay, I have to ask, what’s so funny?”

I snap my gaze over to Dane. Oddly, even though I'd been talking about him, I kind of forgot he was even here.

I open my mouth to explain, then close it and finally just show him the screen.

“Take a look at the first letter of each sentence.”

His eyes narrow with concentration as he quickly puzzles it out.

“Oh, nice,” he says with a snicker, returning his eyes to the road. “I take it this is a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, Chloe’s pure savage.”

You should try sending her your own acrostic message.”

“My own what?”

“Acrostic. It’s the technical term for what Chloe did when she called you an, um, you know–hey.”

His eyes widen and he snaps a sharp glance my way.

“Did you tell her that we…”

“Had sex? Was it supposed to be a secret or something? Just because you’re ashamed of it now doesn’t mean I am.”

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