Heading home in a few minutes. How are you feeling? Is there anything you need?
I do what I always do and hold my breath as I watch my phone screen. Three seconds later, I see those three gray dots appear. I let out a quiet breath. My heartbeat slows.
She’s okay. Stop freaking out.
Auntie: I’m fine, anak. Would you mind picking up some dish soap and paper towels on your way home? We just ran out
Me: Of course! See you soon
The server drops off the check. I hand her my credit card. She comes back with the receipt, I sign it, and get up to leave. I make my way to the door and open it right as Liam walks in.
He blinks at me, his blue eyes wide and his cheeks flushed.
“Hey,” he says in a breathless voice, like he ran here. His eyebrows crash together, like he’s confused. “Are you leaving?”
I glare up at him. “Yeah.” I step around him and head for the door.
“Kendall, at least let me explain.”
Just then, a couple of college-aged women bump into me as they walk up to him.
“Oh my god, are you Liam Scott?”
His chest heaves as he huffs out a breath. “Yeah.”
They giggle. “We thought that was you! Can we get a selfie?”
He nods and they hold up their phone as they snuggle on either side of him, pressing their faces against his.
I roll my eyes and walk out the door, then head down the street to where my car is parked.
“Kendall, wait!” Liam hollers a few seconds later. I don’t stop.
“Kendall, come on. Don’t be like that.” Anger simmers inside of me. The nerve of this guy, ignoring all my texts and showing up an hour late to meet me, then pestering me to hear him out.
Behind me, I heard his heavy footsteps. He jogs up to me. “Just hang on a sec, will you?”
I stop and turn to look at him. “Why should I? Clearly my time doesn’t mean a whole lot to you since you didn’t even show up to meet me when we agreed. And since you were willing to push me aside so you could do a mini-photoshoot with your barely legal fan club.”
He frowns at me. “I was just trying to be nice.”
“Sure you were.”
“God, what is your problem?” he mutters. “I’m sorry, okay?” he says, his tone on the edge of irritated.
I scoff and cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t sound sorry. You actually sound pretty annoyed, which is wild since you’re the one who stood me up and you’ve been MIA all week while I’ve tried to contact you.”
His broad chest heaves as he exhales. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. This time, his tone is softer.
“This week was crazy,” he says. “I forgot that I had publicity stuff to do for the team. I tried to get out of it, but my agent wouldn’t let me. Plus, I had a bunch of sessions with my trainers and my physical therapists.”
“So you were busy?” I say.
He grips his sculpted shoulder and rolls it in a stretch. “Yeah. I was pretty slammed.”
“Doing what? Going to the gym? Getting eight hours of rest a night? Eating the precooked meals your private chef delivered to your house?”
He tugs at the baseball cap he’s wearing backwards on his head. “Yeah. And then the other stuff I talked about.” He sighs. “Look, it’s not like I ignored you or forgot about all this stuff on purpose.”
