Once I closethe door behind me, I lock it, then lean against it for a moment to catch my breath. The night has been a whirlwind of emotions, and my heart is still fluttering from that final kiss. His touch and words left me feeling giddy and lightheaded.
It wasn’t a hallucination. He really tastes like strawberry.
Strawberry Chapstick.
“Lights on, seventy percent,” I say, expecting the flat to illuminate. But nothing happens, so I say it again, louder this time, “Lights on, seventy percent.” Still, the apartment stays dark.
Strange.
I reach out and press the light switch manually, and the room is bathed in a warm glow. The unease dissipates slightly, and I shake my head at my nervousness.
Probably a bug.
I need to check my systems.
Placing the special edition on the kitchen counter, I let my fingers glide over the cover, and my mind wanders back to Oliver. His confession and acceptance of my feelings for Grey and Misha feels like a dream. His kiss, gentle and hesitant yetfilled with so much emotion, still tingles on my lips. Knowing I was his first kiss makes it even more special.
I giggle quietly, touching my mouth.
He loves me.
Needing to share my excitement and thoughts with someone, even if it’s just an algorithm, I call out, “Jamie, come back online, please.”
There’s no response.
I frown.Was there a network failure while I was out?
“Come on, Jamie. I know I haven’t talked to you for a while. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at me, please.” I look up at the ceiling, waiting for Jamie to respond, to come online, but there’s only silence.
The sense of unease starts to creep back in, and I feel a slight chill despite the warmth in the apartment. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to shake off the feeling. “Jamie, seriously, this isn’t funny.”
I walk to the couch to look for my laptop, but it’s not where I left it earlier.
Fuck.
Then there’s a loud crash behind me, like something heavy fell over. My heart skips a beat, and I whirl around just in time to see the shadow of someone moving. Panic seizes me, and before I can fully react, a sharp pain explodes at the back of my head. The world spins, and a wave of dizziness overwhelms me before everything goes dark as I collapse to the floor.
THIRTY-FIVE
The rhythmic thudof fists against leather fills the gym. Grey braces against the punching bag, holding it steady as I channel my frustration into each strike.
We’re trying to distract ourselves from the thought of Amelia and Oliver on their date.
And frankly, it’s not working.
My fists pound harder into the bag, each strike an attempt to silence the turmoil in my head. The memory of her smile, the sound of her laughter—they haunt me, even here.
“This isn’t helping, is it?” Grey asks.
“Not one bit,” I admit, stepping back to catch my breath, sweat dripping from my brow. “We need to figure this shit out. What are we doing, Grey? What is this? Are we just going to tell her that we all want her? Do we give her the choice?”
Grey lets his arms hang, his eyes dark and conflicted. “I don’t know, man. I just want her to be happy, but I just can’t seem to figure out how this would work.”
“This is bullshit. All of it is bullshit. I’ve never been in love before, and correct me if I’m wrong, I don’t think you have either.” I search his eyes, and he just shakes his head. “And nowwe fall for the same woman Oliver fell for the second he saw her?”
Grey huffs out a laugh, the sound bitter. “I was so fed up with his simping. Now look at us.”
It seems Amelia does that to you.
