Page 150 of Wardrobe Malfunction

Only she didn’t leave. I sent her away.

Shawn Mendes’s “Stitches” ends, and Snow Patrol’s “You Could Be Happy” starts to play on my phone.

I might have broken my own rule and brought my cell into my house.

I didn’t want to sit in silence, so I only brought it in to listen to music. While I stare at the ceiling. Not thinking about Charly.

I didn’t bring it inside in case she called.

Not that she would because I told her that we were over. She has no reason to call, except that she has no car.

And she left here on foot.

I’m guessing she got here by cab.

And I let her go and walk out of here, alone.

I should have driven her where she needed to go. I might be angry with her and not want to be with her anymore, but I shouldn’t have just let her leave here to walk on foot.

I wasn’t thinking straight at that moment.

I don’t know if I should call her just to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. I don’t want her to think I’ve changed my mind about us.

Because I haven’t.

I don’t want to be with her. I don’t trust her. She lied and humiliated me.

She’ll be fine. Of course she will. I’m sure she called a cab.

But…what if she couldn’t get a cab, and she got stuck? I know Pins; she’s stubborn, so she won’t ask for help.

And she definitely wouldn’t ask me for help because, you know, I told her that we were done.

Because we are.

I am. Done, that is.

But I should call her to make sure she’s okay. Not because I want to hear her voice one last time, but because I’m a good guy.

Sitting up, I turn the music off and go to her number in my Contacts. I’m staring at her number when my gran’s voice calls into the living room as she comes in through the front door.

“Vaughn?”

“Living room,” I tell her.

I put my phone down beside me.

She sits in the chair across from me and puts a flask on the table. “I brought you some piña colada. I had some leftover.”

I swear, she’s been turning into an alcoholic since she got that cocktail-maker.

“Thanks.” I pick it up, open the lid on the flask, and take a sip. Wow, it’s not lacking alcohol. Piña coladas are not really my thing, but it’s got liquor in it, and I could do with some right now.

“Good?” she asks.

I put the flask back down on the table. “Strong.”

“So, good then.” She folds her hands in her lap. “So, should I take it that you’re sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself?”