Page 66 of The Revenge Game
“Just water for now, thanks.”
I check my phone. Seven-thirty-two. The reservation was for seven-thirty. It’s fine. London traffic is notorious. They’re probably just running late.
At seven-forty-five, I’m on my second glass of water and have memorized the pattern of lights on the buildings across the river. The server has stopped by three times to ask if I’m ready to order.
At seven-fifty-five, the couple at the next table starts to shoot me sympathetic glances. I pull out my phone again.
Hi, Maria, just checking that the reservation is definitely for 7:30?
Three dots appear immediately.
Oh, Justin, I’m so sorry. I’ve just received a message from the donor. Something’s come up, and they can’t make it. They’ve asked me to pass on their deepest apologies.
My shoulders relax.
No worries. I’ll just head home.
Actually, everything’s already paid for. It would be a shame to waste it. You should invite someone to join you.
I stare at her message, my heart racing. Before I can overthink it, my fingers scroll through my contact list.
I know exactly who I want to invite.
Chapter Nineteen
Andrew
It’s Saturday night, and I’m watching my dinner rotate behind the microwave glass like it’s auditioning for a particularly sad episode of Food Network.
According to my experimentation, this chicken tikka masala needs exactly four minutes and thirty-seven seconds to achieve the perfect balance of hot enough to kill any potentially dangerous bacteria and not so hot the sauce separates into disturbing orange oil slicks.
I’m not sure why I’m subjecting myself to a microwave meal when I know Justin’s not even in the apartment building right now. He’s out on a date with the winning bidder from the auction.
Which, technically, is me.
I feel bad knowing he’s sitting alone, waiting for someone who will never show up. Maybe I should have hired an actress to be his mysterious date? Someone he could have wined and dined to make the whole thing more believable.
But I don’t want to think about Justin charming some beautiful woman, making her laugh like he makes me laugh.
And I don’t want to think about why I don’t want to think about it.
Shit. As I take my pitiful dinner to the table, I can’t get the thought of Justin sitting by himself out of my mind. So I quickly log in to the auction app and send a message to Maria under my fake profile saying I’ve been unavoidably detained.
There.
That soothes my conscience so I can enjoy my microwave meal without feeling guilty. Well, as much as someone can enjoy a microwave meal anyway.
I’m two bites in and puzzling over whether the crunchiness is intentional or accidental when my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
I’m expecting it to be Leo. I’ve avoided returning his last call because I don’t know what update to give him about my revenge project. I don’t know how to describe what’s happening between Justin and me at the moment.
We’re…good friends? It’s exactly what I aimed for, yet the term doesn’t quite feel right. Is the other element I sense in our friendship just because I’m concealing such a deep secret from him? Does Justin suspect this? Because sometimes I catch him watching me with an expression I can’t interpret.
I actually don’t have that much experience with proper friendship to accurately judge what’s happening. And the most messed-up thing is the reason I don’t have experience with friendship is partly because of how Justin’s bullying led to me being socially isolated.
I take a deep breath. I really should bite the bullet and stop avoiding Leo’s calls. Talking it through might help me untangle the complexity of emotions I have around Justin. I mean, the Revenge Club is supposed to be about talking things through, right?
But when I pick up my phone, it’s not Leo calling. It’s a video call from Justin Morris.
