Page 7 of Breaking the Lawyer

Deep breath. I'm an adult. I can have a normal conversation.

"Hey. It's Brooks, from last night. You know, the pesky, argumentative straight guy." I pause, trying to find the rightwords. "Anyway, just wanted to check in and make sure I didn't accidentally offend you. Otherwise, have a great day. Peace."

There. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now I'll just repeat it without all the false starts and—

The second I release the record button, I realize just how much I've fucked up.

The entire rambling mess auto-sends.

All of it.

Every awkward pause, every false start, every snuffle.

All. Of. It.

"Nooooooooo. No, no, no, no, no." I shoot to my feet, frantically tapping the screen, trying to unsend it somehow, only to accidentally send a question mark followed by a string of random letters.

I'm making it worse.

Okay, okay, calm down. It's not that big of a deal. So I made myself look like an insecure, rambling goofball, so what? It's not like I'll never recover from this.

Except... did I actually call himhotin that message?

Jesus H. Christ.

I quickly power off my phone like that will somehow undo the last five minutes of my life, then throw it onto my bed like it's radioactive.

That settles it. I'll just change my phone, my number, maybe move to a different state, and I’ll never have to think about this again.

This day is clearly a false start.

I'm going back to sleep.

***

THE EARTHQUAKE THAT wakes me up some unspecified amount of time later turns out to be loud banging on my door, and it takes me a second to realize I'm not actually dying—I just wish I were.

I scramble out of bed, tripping over my shoes, and open the door to find Tyler looking like he wants to make my wish come true.

"Oh. So youarealive."

I squint. "What—"

"Dude, I've been calling you for hours. Thought you got mugged on your way home last night or something."

Oh… Right. "Yeah, I've..." I can't admit the real reason because then Tyler's going to have questions I'm not prepared to answer. "I forgot to charge my phone," I mutter, the guilt of lying to my friend itching in my chest. "Sorry about that."

He takes a few more verbal jabs at me, and it takes me several minutes to get back into his good graces—not before promising to buy him dinner next week.

There goes half of my winnings.

"Anyway, here," Tyler says once sufficiently placated, shoving a piece of fabric against my chest that I catch at the last second.

"What's this?" I ask as I try to untangle it. It feels silky between my fingers.

"Something blue and borrowed. Good luck charm. For your first day."

"I'm not getting married."

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