My phone buzzes again with a text from Echo.
Have dinner with me. There’s a new Thai place downtown.
My heart flutters like the traitorous little bitch it is, and I inwardly curse at myself.
What the hell is wrong with me?
The lines are blurring between us and I’m starting to feel things I shouldn’t. Things that I’ve purposely shielded myself from feeling for the last decade.
I hit send on the message to Josh before I can change my mind. His reply comes almost immediately.
Let’s do dinner instead. Pick you up at 6?
I swallow hard.
Sounds good.
I set my phone face-down on the couch and sigh. When I look up, Fallon is watching me.
“What?” I ask, more defensively than I mean to.
“Nothing.” She replies, but there’s judgement in her tone. I can feel it. “Who was that?”
“Josh.” I say, averting my gaze. “We’re going to grab dinner tonight. It’s not a big deal.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
I look up at her, and the way she’s looking at me says she knows exactly what I’m doing. And why.
“Just be careful.” Fallon says, looking down at her phone. “Feelings aren’t something to ignore.”
“I’m not ignoring my feelings.”
She glances up at me. “I wasn’t talking about yours.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dahlia
The restaurant Joshpicked screams effort.
Crisp white tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, and a wine list so extensive it requires a sommelier. It’s nice. Too nice.
I shift in my seat and tug at the hem of my dress. I shouldn’t have worn this. The soft yellow color reminds me of Echo, and it makes this whole situation feel like even more of a betrayal.
I shouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner either. It was supposed to be coffee. Coffee is chill, casual. A dinner at a place like this is anything but. If I’m being real, I shouldn’t have texted Josh at all, but I’m here now, so I’ll just have to get through it.
Josh is talking again. Just like he has been for the last twenty minutes. He’s been going on and on about his job and the recent promotion he accepted.
I nod at the right times. Smile when it seems appropriate. And keep my eyes locked on the fine lines in his forehead to feign eye contact. But the whole time, I’m thinkingabout how wrong this feels. How stiff I am. How forced my responses sound. And how I keep checking my phone under the table even though I know I haven’t gotten any new messages.
Fallon’s words circle in my head.
Most men look at women and think about what they want to do to them. Echo looks at you like he’s thinking about what he could do for you.
I glance at Josh. He’s leaning forward slightly, his wine glass held loosely in one hand. He’s looking at me like he's already planned our next five dates. Like this is just the beginning of something he’s decided we’re going to be. And I feel nothing. No spark. No comfort. No ease. Just stiffness.
“What do you think, Doll?”
