Page 52 of Hot and Bothered
A sister Evan had never mentioned. A friend he’d never once brought up.
I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew it was an invasion of privacy. But I couldn’t help myself.
The text messages were still there. The phone’s screen hadn’t turned off yet.
I left the phone in place, not touching it, as if by keeping my hands to myself it made what I was doing any better.
I read the messages.
hey
what are you doing tonight?
working?
i’ve got the night free
can i come over later?
That was the last message.
My stomach roiled. I could feel the blood rushing in my ears.
I swallowed down rising panic.
This wasn’t what it looked like. Of course not. All I had to do was ask Evan about it and he’d explain. I was sure he would have a totally innocent explanation for those messages.
He had to.
With shaky hands and a pained stomach, I dried off and got dressed. I left the phone where it was and went into the kitchen where Evan was hunched over his tablet drawing.
“Hey, um…” I stopped.
Evan looked up.
“Do you—” My throat closed up. I cleared it and tried again. “Who is—”
A pang of anxiety shot through me.
What if I called him out on it and he confessed everything? What if he admitted he’d been lying to me this entire time?
My hands trembled.
Evan tilted his head.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, looking concerned.
“I’m fine,” I croaked. “I’m… going to the store. To pick up butter.”
“That’s great, thanks,” he said with relief. “This illustration is taking longer than I thought; I’m not sure if I’ll be done before work. Do you mind picking up some eggs, too? I think we’re almost out.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
He flashed me a grateful smile then returned to his work.
I headed to the living room on unsteady feet. I grabbed my messenger bag from the end table. I clutched the straps so hard my fingernails made half-moon indentations on my palm.
I went down the front hallway and left the apartment, closing the door behind me.
