“Kate, I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t texted you once.” He runs a sheepish hand across a tattooed forearm. “I mean, I know IsaidI wanted to catch up, but I realized I’d be better off not. Sorry.”
It’s my turn to look athimlike he’s insane.
Before I can ask one of my million questions, a perky message beeps over the intercom speaker.
“Levi Schwinn, we have a code brown in the men’s locker room. I repeat, code brown.”
Levi curses, blurts goodbye, then darts from the room.
I gape after him, mind spiraling faster than the washing machines.
What is he saying?
I spot Levi’s abandoned phone atop one of the dryers. I hesitate, but I’m already up to my proverbial elbows in law disobedience. Slipping across the mound of towels littering the ground, I snatch Levi’s phone.
It’s locked.
I curse under my breath, heart pounding as I strain to hear approaching footsteps.
Tapping random four digit codes to unlock it seems stupid, but it’s all I can do. I’m desperate for proof that Levi isn’t lying about texting me. It seems like a weird thing to lie about, but Levi also spent time in jail, for crying out loud. Maybe he’s not who I once thought.
After five attempts, the phone detects the moron that’s holding it. A security banner pops up, informing me that the device will be locked for a full minute. A fresh wave of panic skirts up my spine. What if Levi comes back and his phone is still locked?
I try to inhale through my narrowing airway.
My own phone vibrates with a text. I startle like an electrified cat, flinging Levi’s phone across the room. Thankfully, it lands on a mound of towels, sliding safely to a stop. I slap a hand across my forehead as I scramble toward it. I place it neatly back on top of the dryer before launching myself back to my previous position.
Chest heaving, I have no choice but to wait for Levi to come back and explain himself. Levi’s phone sits abandoned, still locked and taunting me. While I wait, I yank out my phone to read the text I just received.
My blood turns to ice.
UNKNOWN: I’d love to take you to Navy Pier at sunset sometime. It’s beautiful, but not as beautiful as you. —Hopefully Yours
thirteen
PRESENT DAY
KATE
Panic sloshes over me like a bucket of ice water. Each text “Hopefully Yours” has ever sent pinballs through my brain, crashing each assumption I had into smithereens. Levi couldn’t have sent that last text. I was holding his freaking phone when H.Y. texted me, for goodness sake.
But if not Levi, then who?
My brain racks itself like an old purse, littered with crusty change and gum wrappers. I shake each memory free, picking through the lint to see who I’ve given my number to since I dropped my phone off the pier last year.
I grimace.
There have been a lot.
In the past, Liza liked to accuse me of handing out my number to hot men like Halloween candy, and now I want to kick myself.
I scroll through each text H.Y. has sent.
UNKNOWN: Hey. I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you how beautiful you are today. Can’t wait to meet up sometime. -Hopefully Yours.
UNKNOWN: Hope your holidays are as beautiful as you. -Hopefully Yours.
UNKNOWN: You’ll make one lucky guy extremely happy one day. Still hoping it’ll be me. -Hopefully Yours
