Page 123 of Let's Get Textual

“Caleb said we’ll talk later.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say, which is a total shit move because—”

“Now you’ll be worrying all day. Great.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I can skip my next two classes and come home with you now if you need me to.”

“No way. You forced me here, so you have to stay. Besides, I don’t think I’m heading home yet. I might grab a coffee and then come back later to pick you up. That way I’m not at home sulking.”

She loops her arm with mine. “I think that’s a great idea. I should be done in about two hours, so it’s not that long. Afterward we’ll grab a pizza to take home and then we’ll be bums on the couch.”

“Sounds like a plan—but we’re not watching that weird show you’ve been hooked on lately.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Fine, but only because you’re heartbroken and all that.”

Twenty-Two

Idon’t knowhow I ended up here, but it’s too late to backtrack now.

I push through the doors of Level Up and my eyes scan the room of their own accord.

He’s not here.

I’m caught between feeling elated and upset at that fact.

I make my way to the front counter and order the drink Zach first picked for me. The barista squints at me from behind his glasses and I realize it’s the guy who was working the night Zach brought me here. I quickly avert my gaze, hoping he doesn’t recognize me.

It’s no use.

“Are you looking for him?”

I snap my head up. “Who?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“Hastings.”

Hearing his last name causes me to lose my breath. I can feel the now all too familiar sting of tears beginning.

“No,” I say quietly. “I’m not looking for him.”

“He’s been coming in here with nothing but grunts and scowls. Hasn’t even been chatty about that little goat of his.”

The mention of Marshmallow is what sends me over the edge, and I’m a blubbering fool again.

“Oh shit. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

The panic of seeing lady tears is real. He begins rushing around, making my drink as I grab a few napkins and wipe at my face.

“Here.” He slides my drink toward me. “On the house.”

I shake my head. “No way. I’m paying.”

“Hastings would have my ass if he knew I made his lady cry and then didn’t do anything to remedy it. There’s no way you’re spending a penny on that drink.”

I want to correct him, tell him I don’t think I’m anyone’s lady anymore, but I don’t have it in my heart to say it out loud.

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