Page 59 of Puck Me Secretly

“What?”

“Give me your phone.”

I didn’t even ask why he wanted it. I unlocked it and handed it to him.

I watched as he typed something in before passing it back. I peeked down at the screen. He had entered his phone number in my contact information.

My breath caught in my throat. Why had he given me his number?

OMG!Did he want a booty call? Did he want to come over? Is that why he was giving me his number? My heart raced in my throat.

“Do you want me to call you later?”

“Text me when you get home safe.”

I stopped, confused. “What?”

He pushed himself off the wall, looming over me. “I want to know when you get home safe. Text me when you do.”

My lips parted, but before I could answer he disappeared into the men’s room.

I shut my eyes in mortification. It was laughable that I had thought for even a fleeting second he wanted to come over later. He had a puck bunny salivating over him. It embarrassed me that I had thought he’d want to see me.

With my head down, I made my way back to Ola.

She gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, but I need toleave. My boyfriend called. His car broke down in Surrey and he needs me to come and get him.”

“That’s fine. I’m not feeling that great.”

We paid for our drinks. As we walked out, I glanced over my shoulder. Max stood with his back to me. The cute blonde was all but glued to his side.

The whole thing depressed me.

I took a cab home, letting myself into my childhood home. I sighed as I stood in the dark foyer of the huge silent house. Friday night and I was home by 10 PM. So much for having a social life.

Time for soft clothing, popcorn, and Netflix.

While the popcorn popped, I checked my phone again.

Max had given me his number. Not because he wanted a booty call, but because he was treating me like a kid sister that he needed to take care of. It kind of made me happy that he was thinking about me, but he wasn’t thinking about me in the way I wanted him to.

I started to text him that I was home, but then stopped myself. How lame would I seem if I texted him at 10 PM? I could envision him, at the bar, with some puck bunny sitting on his lap and then his phone would buzz with my text. A text that would scream sad loner.

I tossed the phone on the counter. It wouldn’t hurt for him to believe that I was on some hot and heavy date. I’d text him after the movie.

Chimes were playingin my dream. Long, echoing chimes on repeat.

I sat up straight in bed, heart pounding. The chimes sounded again.

The doorbell.

The clock read 3:21 AM.Oh no!

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

No one rang the doorbell at this time of night unless something bad had happened.

I ripped the covers off and raced down the stairs. I stood there, for a long moment, while my heart hammered in my chest and I braced myself to face whatever I would need to face. Was it the police? Had something happened with my parents? Whatever it was, I needed to face it.

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