Another chime; another text.
I nudge his wallet out of the way so I can slip his phone off the table. His background is the picture we took together at the marine park, in front of the fountain, which…how adorable. It’s almost enough to make me put down his phone, respect his boundaries, trust that he’s handling things with his ex in the best possible way. But our faces are partially obscured by text messages, stacked atop each other. I can only see one, and it is in fact from Whitney.
Whitney
Thank you for saying you’ll try again. See you soon.
There are heart emojis, a whole slew of them.
Yesterday, he said wanted to stay in Sugar Bay. He said it’d be cool to spend senior year together. He said he liked me a lot. And he just poured his heart out to me, holding tight to my hands, checking to make sureIwas okay when he was done recounting one of the hardest experiences of his life.
I read the text again. This can’t be right.
Whitney must be confused.
But…she doesn’t sound confused.
Henry told her he’d try again? Trythemagain? And she’ll see him soon?
It’s right here in a text bubble.
I put his phone back on the table, screen down, the way he left it. And then I get up from the chair and cross the yard toward the house.
Is Henry playing me?
It’s a preposterous idea—utterly incomprehensible—and yet I’m suddenly nauseated.
I sneak inside, slipping past his turned back. He’s caught up in a conversation with Jayden, two bottles of water tucked under his arm, oblivious to the fact that I just caught him in…in what can only be a massive lie.
In the empty hallway, I stop to lean against the wall, intent on getting my blood pressure under control. Bending, I brace my hands against my knees. I focus on breathing, on counting thetiles that lead to the front door. There are goose bumps on my arms, and the music is so loud my head’s starting to pound.
I need to go back outside, where it’s warm and quiet and dark.
The front door opens, getting caught on the woven doormat, wrinkling it before detaching and swinging clear. I raise my gaze to see who’s rolling in so late.
My heart claws its way into my throat as Damon walks into the house.
Henry
By the time I shake off Jayden—who seems like an okay guy, actually—I find that Piper has ditched our chair. I grab mystuff off the table, giving Whitney’s latest message a cursory glance:Thank you for saying you’ll try again. See you soon.
Jesus H.
It’s gonna be a nightmare dealing with the fallout of my stupid deception.
Gabi comes through the back door as I’m about to open it, cider in hand. She’s close to my height, with long legs, long hair, and long lashes. She’s like gallery art: striking and intimidating.
“Where’s our girl?” she asks.
“Not sure. I figured she’d gone inside.”
“I haven’t seen her. Bathroom, maybe.” She twists the top off her cider, then takes a sip. She’s hard to read, but if she’s Piper’s best friend, she’s got to be all right. “Don’t like to drink?” she asks, gesturing to the waters I snagged from the fridge.
“Nope.”
“You’ve rubbed off on Piper. She passed up Hudson’s bar.”
I shrug. “She does what she wants.”
