“Oh, Callie, please don’t.” Lola’s eyes widen. I finish the last sip of wine and deposit the glass back on the table, wanting to slam it but wanting more not to cause a scene by breaking it.
“Bye.”
“Callie!” Lola calls, but I wave a hand behind me and stomp out of the bar, pulling on my pink puffy winter coat. The cold February wind whips my hair up and around my head.
Lola better not tell him any details about Wes. I’m glad I didn’t share the whole story. My phone buzzes in my pocket when I’m only a handful of steps away from O’Connor’s.
Lola
hey, I’m so sorry, please come back
I grit my teeth. I can’t believe she invited Jake to hang out with us. Lola just moved to the top of my list of traitors.
Me
it’s fine. I need a minute to decompress. It’s too loud in there. Just don’t tell Jake anything about the guy who’s helping me
Lola
of course. Love ya
I sigh and put my phone back in my pocket as I stride further away from the bar.
I just need to think.
There was nothing online about Wes. I don’t have his last name, of course, so my searches for things likeWes-hacker-Lake Savagehaven’t turned up anything. There’s probably nothing online anyway, even if I had his last name. I’m willing to bet he’s the kind of guy who isn’t on social media.
I slow my stride. The sidewalk has icy patches, and I almost wipe out turning down another street. I need to pay attention to what I’m stepping on, as there are piles of snow everywhere and slick spots where snow melted and refroze.
My phone buzzes again and I pull it out, expecting another text from Lola, but it’s a notification from Gone. I stop abruptly and click the message a little too eagerly.
It’s from Wes. A picture of an apple pie with an intricate top crust woven in and out like a friendship bracelet. It’s a beautiful pie, and my mouth waters instantly upon seeing it. I wait for another message, but nothing comes up. The picture of the pie disappears after a few seconds, like it always does in Gone. I get a rush of adrenaline.
Me
okay, I’ll bite. What’s up?
Hawk
did you like my pie last weekend?
My cheeks heat. Why does this feel sexual, like the whipped cream question? I get a rush of adrenaline. Finally, he messages. And it’s about pie.
Me
your pie was the best I’ve ever had
Oh my god, and I’m playing along. The disappearing messages are giving me more confidence. I look up and continue walking.
Hawk
what are you doing right now?
Me
why?
Hawk
