Page 43 of Through the Flames
No. He seemed into it — intome.
So what happened?
It wasn’t like I was new to this. Guys left. Attention drifted. No biggie. But something about this one stung more than it should have.
He was into it. Iknowhe was into it. You didn’t grin like that just to Irish exit five minutes later.
Why the fuck did this keep on happening to me?
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Not ghosted after the fact. Not unmatched after a bad joke.
No, this was different. This was guys vanishing mid-convo like I triggered a goddamn trapdoor.
Sierra cheered as I reclaimed my spot at the table, thankfully too occupied or maybe drunk to inquire about my whereabouts.
My mind was racing, my hand closing around a glass of lukewarm beer someone thrust into my hand.
The conversation around me was animated and loud, but I was stuck in my head, thinking back to all these little occurrences of the past months.
Singled out, they hadn’t seemed too weird, but if you combined them…
The guy who blocked me right before our date.
Another who left me on ‘read’mid-meme exchange.
One who literallyvanishedafter seeing me in person once.
There was a pattern here. I just didn’t know what the hell it was.
And just like that, I realized who else was gone.Hunter.
He’d still been leaning against the booth like a silent threat when I’d left to get a new drink. I knew because I snuck a peek at him.Don’t fucking judge me.
Now he was gone.Poof. Like he’d never been there, after he’d barely moved all night.
Was that weird? Or was I just trampling my happy ass down the delulu path, imagining ridiculous things?
Absent-mindedly, I took a sip of the beer in my hand and was hit with immediate regret.
Even worse than I’d fucking expected. I stuck my tongue out, coughing with a grimace on my face.
He didn’t come to things like this, didn’t do crowds or noise, and yet, here he was. Hunter didn’t give a flying fuck who I talked to.
Right?
So why did it feel like he’d shown up just to remind me otherwise?
Twelve
Ella
The door to our apartment slipped from my grasp and banged against the wall.
All three of us tried — and failed — to suppress our giggles. I bowed with a flourish, gesturing to usher Dom and Sierra into the apartment.
“Good sir, m’lady.” My British accent needed some serious work.
I watched as Dom picked Sierra up, trying to contain all her flailing limbs, as he carried her across the threshold like it was the most natural thing in the world.
