“Not unless heactuallyshows up,” I joked, but a part of me wondered if he would.
I hit call, holding the phone to my ear. Wynter answered immediately.
“Where are you?” He breathed.
“Why is he British…” Arjuna wondered,
“I keep asking him the same thing, he doesn’t even like tea and scones,” I commented and we laughed.
“Weird.”
“I am at a club,” I said, grinning despite myself.
“You, at a club?” He questioned, “Did someone make you?”
“No Iwantedto be here, and you’re probably at home being a loser.” I giggled.
“And you’re drinking? Since when?”
“Since now. Since you pissed me thefuckoff and I wanted to go out and have fun without you.” I informed him.
“Irresponsible.” He scolded.
“Whatever, Come find me if you can.” I giggled.
“Yesoh, don’t—”
I hung up before he could finish, laughing as I turned back to Arjuna. “Men are so predictable.”
We made our way to the dance floor, the lights flashing around us in dizzying patterns. Arjuna was a great dancer, his movements easy and confident, and for a while, I forgot about everything else.
His presence reminded me of something I hadn’t realized until then— that there wereothermen, who could understand me, who didn’t need years of distance and convincing to like me back. Who didn’t need for me to grow up and turn pretty for me to hold their attention. Meeting Arjuna that night made me realize that I wasn’t trapped in some Wynter prison, that I had the key all along and that It didn’thaveto be him if I didn’t want it to be.
That just like him I could wake up one day and decide what I truly wanted.
But then a hand closed around my arm, and I turned to see Wynter standing there, his jaw tight, his eyes burning.
“What are you doing here?” I gasped.
“What you asked.” He breathed, “I came to find you.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“I analyzed the background of the photo you posted.” He explained slightly ashamed, “It wasconsensualstalking.”’
“Consensual stalking?” I repeated realizing that he sounded crazy. He soundedjustlike me. I was no longer insane about this man all on my own— he was getting wheeled away to the loony bin over me too.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice low but commanding.
“What?” I pulled back, frowning. “I’m fine.”
“You’re drunk,” he said. “You need to go home.”
Arjuna stepped in, looking between us with confusion. “Is everything okay?”
“She’s fine,” Wynter said sharply, his hand still on my arm.
Cahya appeared beside him, his brow furrowed. “Wynter, what’s going on what are you doing?”
