Page 28 of How He Got the Girl
“What are you doing?” Kelsey sounds cautious, like I’m a dog that will spook if she takes one wrong step.
I don’t look up from my kneeling position on the tile floor. “I’m cleaning the grout. Do you know the last time we cleaned it?” I laugh hollowly. “Probably never.” I dip the toothbrush into the soapy water and get back to scrubbing.
“Did you know your phone is blowing up?”
I still don’t glance up, trying to focus on the task at hand. “It’s probably just more news outlets calling me for a statement.” I got multiple calls yesterday asking for a comment, so I assume today is more of the same.
Kelsey blows out a long breath. “They must really want to get in touch with you. It looks like you have a ton of notifications.”
I haven’t been on my phone all morning, trying to avoid reality and live in ignorant bliss, so maybe I should check it. Who knows, there could be a family emergency.
I push up from the ground and wash my hands before grabbing my phone off the kitchen table. There are a few missed calls and voicemails from different numbers that I ignore, but one of the unknown numbers also sent me eleven text messages. I open the thread and roll my eyes when I read the first texts.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Hi, you have every right to be mad at me for finding your number now that I know your full name. I’m sorry, but please hear me out.
This is Griffin, by the way.
“Ugh, it’s Griffin.” I roll my eyes.
“What doeshewant?”
I look back at my phone and keep reading.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
I’m not sure if you’ve seen all the articles, but it seems we’ve suddenly become the subject of every news outlet’s attention.
If you haven’t, I’m sorry I’m the one breaking the news.
If you have, then you know this narrative is already getting out of control.
I have a proposition for you that I think will be mutually beneficial for us.
Okay, that kinda sounds dirty.
I promise it’s not dirty.
Anyway, my agent wants to speak with us together, so if you’re able to come over today, I can send a car for you.
And by IF, I mean that my agent NEEDS to talk to both of us since this now concerns you, too. So, please agree to this, and we can get everything sorted out together.
Sorry for all the texts. I’ll stop now.
I stare at my phone, a storm of anger brewing inside me. I’m infuriated that this even happened. That Griffin just waltzed back into my life like it was nothing. But in reality, he’s the Mento dropped in my Coke bottle, makinga giant explosion and a mess that I’m left to clean up when he inevitably ghosts me again. Because he will.
The problem now is that I’m also filled with dread. He’s right. I could handle him walking in and out of my life the first time—okay, I could at least wallow in peace—but I’m out of my wheelhouse this time.
I have no clue what I’m supposed to do when my face is plastered on every tabloid. When lies are being spread about me to my face and behind my back, and comment sections are filled with unspeakable things that my friends won’t even let me read.
I’m mature enough to admit that I need guidance from his agent. And, like it or not, maybe I even need help from Griffin.
I shudder at the thought.
But I’m also petty enough to save his name in my phone contacts as Mr. Too Late. Shoutout to my girl Taylor for such an iconic song bridge from “Mr. Perfectly Fine (Taylor’s Version).” She’s the real MVP.
“Well?” Kelsey nudges my elbow.
