Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
Maybe the dreams will stop.
Deep down, I’d love nothing more than to sever the tether I feel between us.
Maybe this will accomplish that.
Maybe the truth could set me free.
Maybe it’s all in my mind—a desperate attempt to hold on to some link to Aubrey, a valid reason not to accept being pushed out of her life.
I’m gonna do it.
I chicken out far too much in life. I’m doing this.
It’s just a message. It can’t hurt anything.
I type out, “Can I ask you a question?” but I look at it for a full minute before I can convince myself to press send.
It doesn’t occur to me until after I’ve pressed it and my heart is firmly resting in my stomach that he’s probably asleep.
Oh my god, what did I just do?
As soon as the thought hits, I feel guilty, but I don’t know why. I had no ill intentions, but I picture Aubrey lying beside him and wonder what she would think if she saw the message pop up on his phone screen.
I wish I could delete it.
I need to unsend, but that’s not an option.
What if I blocked him? Would he still be able to see I sent him a message? I’m not sure; I’ve never blocked anybody before.
My hands feel shaky as I navigate away from his profile and click on Aubrey’s. My heart pounds just looking at her picture. I need to think clearly, so I squeeze the button on the side of the phone to darken the screen.
Maybe I should message her. We haven’t talked since prom because Dare won’t let us be friends, but maybe—
The phone screen brightens with a new notification.
I hold my breath as I lift my phone to look at it.
It’s a message from Dare.
Oh my god.
It’s short, so I can see what it says before I even open it. “Sure.”
I didn’t expect him to respond at all, but certainly not so quickly.
What do I say? What do I do?
“Are you always up this early?” I type back.
“You’re reaching out just to ask about my sleep schedule? How thoughtful.”
I flush. “I didn’t think about the time difference when I sent the message. I didn’t realize it was so early where you are. Once I did, I didn’t think you’d be awake.”
“I wasn’t,” he answers simply.
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
I also hope I didn’t wake anyone else.
“You’re as well-mannered as ever, I see,” he answers.
That makes me flush even more. I suppose I don’t owe him any apologies, ever. I could cut his face off and not have to apologize after the mean shit he has done to me.
Thinking about that brings me back to the reason I’m texting him. “Anae’s out,” I type.
“I know.”
I don’t know why I wait for some nicety like him to ask how she’s doing. I know he doesn’t care, and he has no reason to pretend to right now.
“She was stalking your profile earlier tonight, looking at your pictures. She thinks you didn’t block her because you wanted her to see your tattoos. She thinks you’re leaving her breadcrumbs. She thinks…” I pause and backspace, my fingers not wanting to commit that thought to text, but it’s why I reached out in the first place, so I force myself to type the sentence. “She thinks I’m on your arm.”
I wait, my heart pounding in my throat, for him to answer.
I wait. And I wait. And I wait.
Oh my god, why isn’t he answering?
My palms feel sweaty. It shows he read the message, but maybe he got pulled away? I have to know, so I send another message even though he hasn’t answered the last one.
“Is that a Cinderella tattoo on your arm?”
This message also shows as instantly read, so it seems like he has the message open, he just isn’t typing anything.
He’s toying with me.
He probably won’t answer.
He’ll just sit there, amused, waiting to see how many times I’ll ask before I give up.
Jerk.
My stomach roils. I place a hand on my belly, begging it to calm down. In fairness, if it had a mouth, it would probably beg me not to do dumb things to fill it with anxiety-acid in the first place.
My breath catches when he finally responds. “Maybe.”
Oh my god.
That maybe feels like a yes, but of course without being a clear yes, because Dare is intent on slowly driving me mad.
I swallow.
“Why would you have a Cinderella tattoo on your arm?” I ask.
“What fun would it be if I told you that?” he answers.
“We’re not in each other’s lives anymore, why does it matter? Just tell me so I can get some sleep.”
“Am I keeping you awake at night, Hannah?”
I can hear how much he enjoys that even through the uniform line of text on the screen. It could be from anyone, but it’s from him, so it’s fucked up and complicated.