Page 119 of Falling Offsides

“How could I?” I grumble at myself, pushing the bag deeper into the seat so it’s not in my line of sight.

Does it work?Absolutely fucking not.

I’m losing my goddamn mind. Barbie’s stroll is on replay. Slow motion activated just to make it niggle that little bit more.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t.

Ican’t.

Except…I do.

Yup, I grab the iPad as the server brings my coffee and sandwich. It’s the perfect reason to put the iPad down and think about something else. Enjoy the view of the ocean…

Nope, can’t do that.

I can’t appreciate the view, nor enjoy the creamy caramel foam with the burnt sugar sprinkles. Definitely can’t think about eating while every fucking image in my head is of Bombshell Barbie entering Auguste’s apartment like she belongs there.

Does she?

The question drolls on and on until I’m shaking in my seat. Every goddamn feeling vibrating through my bloodstream like a drug.

Talk about tripping balls. Maybe I should have listened to Delilah and picked some cheeky peach gummies. God knows I need the chill power right now.

My hands are shaking so much I can’t get my finger to hit the right numbers after I’ve all but given myself an aneurysm remembering the passcode.

“Nine-six-eight-seven… seven. Voilà,” I mutter at the screen as it comes to life.

There is one app on the home screen—a daisy tile—that when I tap darkens the screen with a staticky image. After a few seconds it clears and I’m left with an open view of Auguste’s open plan living area. Looks like mine, except it’s all darker tones. Warm reds balanced out with deep charcoal and sandy tones.

It’s empty though, and that has my chest wringing so tight nothing is working as I swipe through the different feeds. Stopping when I land on the hallway that resembles the one at my place where the bedrooms lead off and Samson is sitting outside one of the closed doors. Head canted, nose pressed to the wood.

The sound bar on the top of the screen starts lighting up and stupid me turns the volume up.

Is that?

Oh. My. God.

Is thatbuzzing?

“Jesus, Lizzie, that’s so good,” Auguste’s deep voice echoes from the bedroom.

A giggle. “Want me to go a little harder?”

“Fuck, can you?”

The buzzing gets louder at the same time as he moans.

Every part of me shrivels from the inside out.

How could I have been so stupid?

Tears collect in my eyes faster than I can swallow them down. When they start to rain down my face, I dig in my purse for the baseball cap I packed in case the sun got too hot for my scalp. I pull it on, tugging it as low as it will go over my face before I drop enough money to cover the check and a tip before I throw everything else into my purse and head out.

I don’t know what to think.

I don’t know what to do.

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