Her hands tremble. “Um I know. But he said…”
“He who?” My voice is razor-blade sharp now.
“Bl-aake,” she stammers. “He said it’s your favourite.”
I lift my gaze past her, and there he is. Leaning against the bar, typing into his phone like it holds salvation. A moment later, mine vibrates. I don’t even need to check. I know it’s him. I know it’s forher.
“Take it back,” I spit. “And tell him to shove it.”
She scurries away. My phone lights up again. The screen dares me to look.
“Have you ever tried to escape the ghost of a relationship that just keeps on haunting you?”
He has no idea I’m Pandora. No clue he’s confessing to the woman he broke.
“Believe me, I have. But I’ve also been the one who didn’t want to believe it was over.”
“It’s exhausting, isn’t it?”
“What? Being the haunted one or the broken one?”
I peek over the rim of my coffee cup, eyes flicking toward him. He’s watching me. And I’m still watching him.
This is hell. This is home.
“Being haunted.I close my eyes and all I see is the past, the love the breakdown and the moments now that I’m stuck in.”
I close my eyes. All I see is the past. The love. The collapse. The ache. The splinters of a life we burned down, and now I live in the ashes.
“What moments are they? I could help you through it… If you like?”
He doesn’t know how cruel it is, offering comfort to the woman you abandoned.
“Oh, just having you is helping.” Running my tongue over my lip I settle back into the booth, sipping my latte.
Oh, just having you is helping. He response
“Having me? You’re very sure of yourself.”
He always was. Cocky Blake. The boy who never doubted he’d win. The man who never thought he could lose me until he did. Untilwedid.
“So, you’re fresh out of a loss, are you? Is that why you’re in this dark corner of cyberspace, looking for plastic love with real heat?” I ask him, surprised at my words as I read what I just sent.
I’m spiralling. I can feel it. The lines are blurring. I’m not Pandora. I’m Penn. But Blake he’s spilling his soul to the wrong woman. Or maybe the right one. Maybe I just wish it were me.
“I have, but it’s not fake for me. This isn’t a game. I want somethingreal.”
“I never said it was. I’m just cynical, I guess. It’s not easy falling in love through a phone screen, is it?” I spill
“Maybe chivalry’s dead. Maybe I had to lose her to love me. Then I could love you.”
And there it is, the dagger.
I want to hurt him back, but instead, I want to wrap myself in roses and scream. I want to be her. I want to beme. But he wants Pandora, the shadow. The midnight woman with scarlet lips and mystery for days. The woman who isn’t real. The woman he thinks can heal him.
But it was me. It was always me.
“You don’t even know me.”
