Page 104 of Facing the Line

He goes off on a spiel about his housemates and how great they are, and I nod in the right places, but my heart’s not in it.

What’s Jonas doing right now? Has he watched the new episodes ofLove Islandwithout me? How does he feel about the upcoming hockey season? Did the guys ever get a couch for their living room? It kills me that I don't know the answers to these questions.

The song transitions from something upbeat to Taylor Swift’s “Cruel Summer,” and a lump clogs my throat at her poignant lyrics and the memory of dancing with Jonas to it this summer. I motion towards the bar and wave goodbye to Liam.

Am I broken? Was he not that engaging?

Kendall raises a brow as I slump next to her. “What’s wrong, boo?”

“No spark.”

She perks up and puts a hand on my shoulder. “That’s okay. There’s plenty?—”

“If you say, ‘fish in the sea,’ I’m out of here,” I interrupt, glaring.

She throws her head back and laughs. “I was gonna say, ‘guys in the bar.’ Same sentiment, I guess. Isn’t that the thing with dating? You swim around until you find one you like? So just keep swimming.”

“Dating advice fromFinding Nemo?”

She shrugs, undaunted by my negativity. “You brought in the ocean metaphor, I went with it. But go take a minute to get your game face on, and then we’ll reel in another one.”

“I should have never let you watchBattlefish,” I say under my breath. But I give her a hug and concentrate on her words as I weave through the crowd to the restroom.

The ladies’ room is as gross as the rest of the bar, but the lighting is better, and at least the music is muffled. I take a deep breath and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is in perfectly tousled waves, and my red lips slay without a smudge in sight. My new black crop top hugs my curves and looks amazing.

So why am I a mess on the inside?

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, expecting Kendall.

Evan: Just so you know, I took Jonas to see the team doctor.

My hands shake at his message. Fingers fumbling, I hurry to text him back.

Hadley: What’s going on? Is he sick? Injured?

Evan: He passed out on the treadmill.

Hadley: Oh my god, is he okay? What did the doctor say?

I hold my breath and bite my nails, waiting for his response as the three dots appear.

Evan: We’re still waiting. He’s grumpy, which is good. He hit his head but doesn’t seem to have a concussion.

I grab onto the bathroom counter to steady myself. My first impulse is to run to him, to see him with my own eyes and make sure he’s fine. But Evan texted, not Jonas. And we’re not really friends at this moment.

The door opens with a blast of country music, and Kendall stalks in. She narrows her eyes at me in the mirror. “Are you hiding in here?”

Wordlessly, I hand her my phone so she can read the messages.

“Oh, shit. Is Jonas okay?” I shrug, and she wraps me in a hug. “I’m sure he’s fine. But how are you?”

I sniff. “I want to check on him but…”

“You don’t feel like you have any right to?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

She pats my back, then roots in her clutch until she comes up with lip gloss and mascara. Fixing my makeup, she tuts at my reflection.

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