“Refuse to see the truth, that is,” Foxx huffed. “Oh, by the way, what happened to being on holiday?! Hmm?!! Thought you didn’t have any signal?!”
“What happened to, ‘I’m scared’?!”
Foxx gasped. “How could you bring that up?!”
“Well, you did a one-eighty on your emotions pretty fucking fast, Foxx.”
“Well, he cleared things up!”
“Thanks to me.”
“You know what, go back to your fake holiday,” Foxx snapped. Hanging up, he tossed his phone back onto the counter.
Was itthathard to believe that Harlow was sweet?! It was the truth! It was! Stupid Alastair.
He glared at his phone when it buzzed. Rolling his eyes, Foxx picked it up and checked the new message.
ALASTAIR
He is decidedly NOT sweet. :P
“OHH!!” Foxx hissed angrily, tossing his phone back down again.Ohh, just you wait, Alastair, he thought. Foxx’s love life may be complicated, but his wasn’t the only one!
Smiling evilly, he grabbed his phone and sent a quick text off to Daydric.
Foxx knitted on autopilot as he stared at the TV, fully engrossed in the true crime show he was watching, when his gaze happened to slip down and catch the time on the cable box. Needles freezing, he stared at the numbers—7:30pm.
Frowning, Foxx tossed his project aside and grabbed his phone off the couch next to him to call Harlow. He tapped his free hand on his thigh as it rang…and rang…and rang some more. When the voicemail message clicked on, and he heard Harlow just bark out his name instead of an actual recorded message, his stomach dropped.
He tried again, as the phone rang and rang, and once again went to voicemail, the hair on the back of his neck stood.
Something…was wrong. He just…knew something was…
He bit his lip and called Tony.
The call picked up almost immediately. “Please tell me you aren’t calling to tell me that one of you has been injured again,” Tony begged.
“I need you to turn on Harlow’s tracker and tell me where he is.”
“Uhh…what?! Why?”
“Because he said he’d be gone at most two hours and it’s been over four, and he is not picking up his phone.”
“Foxx…you realize he could just be ignoring you.”
“He’s not.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
Foxx hissed. “He’s not ignoring me! We’re supposed to go on a date when he gets back from whatever appointment he had, but he hasn’t actually come back yet! Something is wrong!”
“A date, with who?”
He pulled the phone away from his ear in bafflement before putting it back up. “With me, of course.”
“With you, of course, what?”
Foxx rolled his eyes, and as if he was talking to an idiot, he spoke slowly. “Harlow was supposed to come back and then WE were supposed to go on a date, TOGETHER.”
