Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I had no reserves left for goodbyes that were bound to be awkward (for Sebastian) and painful (for me). I wasn’t up to the task of riding in his car back to New York, trying not to look at his handsome face while forcing cheerful conversation to hide my feelings. And I absolutely couldn’t handle him offering me business contacts out of pity or obligation.
It was better this way. Safer for everyone. Bash would feel guilty when he found that I’d left—he took his responsibilities to people seriously, after all, which was why he’d come to Philly in the first place—but ultimately, I hoped he’d be glad.
Of course, that meant I was now stuck here with nothing but the clothes on my back, seventeen dollars in my pocket, no leads for my project, and no way to get home, which meant that my feelings were the least of my worries.
I ran a hand over my face and straightened, then took out my phone and dialed Joey’s number.
“Rowe!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Thank fuck you called.”
“Hey—” I began.
“Shit, I was getting worried. You went radio silent. And I was like, is he okay? Is he just too busy fucking the rich guy to call me? But also… I have so much to tell you, bro. The fast-food delivery game moves pretty fast, and if you don’t keep up, the Sandwich Shark will take you down. Damn sexy motherfucker,” he muttered.
“What? Joey—”
“No, no. It’s cool. It’s fine.” He hesitated. “Mostly. I think. But FYI, I had to add a couple moves to the Burrito Bandito delivery dance. You know, so I could win the dance-off? There’s, like, a hip-shimmy now after the toe-kick and then kind of a bump-and-grind thing? I’ll demonstrate later.”
Dance-off? What the fuck? “Joey.”
“Oh, and I’m playing around with lyrics for a second verse of the song. I just need to figure out something sexy that rhymes with salsa. Falls-ah is as close as I’ve gotten. Like, when you taste our salsa, in love you’re gonna falls-ah.”
“Joey, stop.”
“I know, I know, it’s shit. We can workshop it when you get back. I just wanted you to know—”
“Joey!” I yelled. “Chill for a second. I need your help.”
Joey paused for a beat, and when he spoke again, his voice was serious. “Whatever you need, Rowe. You know that.”
“I need you to come get me,” I blurted. “I’m in Philly. I came here with Bash, and we… I… he…”
Joey blew out a breath. “Bro.”
“No, I know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But it’s done now.” I sniffed, swearing at myself under my breath.
“Are you okay?” Joey demanded. “’Cause if that fucker laid a hand on you—”
“God, no! I just… I confessed everything. He knows who I am now. And it was kinda time for me to go. But I don’t know if I have enough money to catch the train back, and I haven’t slept, really, and I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep and end up at the wrong stop or something, and…”
“Say no more. Lea let me have the Burrito Mobile for the day so I could go on a supply run. Pretty sure I officially work here now. You’re lucky it’s Sunday. Text me an address, okay?”
I couldn’t even care that Joey was driving down to get me in a red-and-yellow food truck. “Yeah. Thanks, Joey. I owe you big.”
I took a deep breath and emerged from the stairwell into the lobby. Fortunately, all the newspeople from earlier had dispersed already, and I didn’t see Bash or his friends, so I strolled directly out the front door. A block down the street, I spotted a used bookstore and texted Joey the address before ducking inside and attempting to lose myself in the stacks.
In the back of the store, I found an empty reading nook with an overstuffed armchair in the self-help section and sank down gratefully to wait, but the books mocked me from their places on the shelves. When Sorry Isn’t Good Enough. I’m Telling the Truth, But I’m Lying. The Key to Success: Stop Trying So Hard!
My phone buzzed with a string of incoming texts from a number I didn’t have stored.
Unknown: Rowe? What the fuck? Where did you go?
Unknown: Did Noelle say something to you? She claims you freaked out for no reason, but I don’t believe her.
Unknown: Come back. Please. We have things to talk about.
I felt the tears coming again and blinked them back as I shoved my phone away without responding.
No more tears. Not for this. I’d been through shit things before. I knew what terrible loss felt like. And this was not it. It wasn’t. This was the consequences of my own actions, inevitable as gravity.
Of course Bash was being wonderful. Protective and sweet. I’d expect nothing less. But it wasn’t real. There was no universe where his life and mine would ever have intersected if I hadn’t told the biggest lie of my life.