Page 50 of Ex Marks the Spot
I wince against the blazing daylight and attempt to focus on the person.
“Are you going to invite me in or just stand there like a doofus?”
Wait. “Ella?” I blink several times. When I saw her during Christmas break, her dark blond hair was to her waist. The person on my doormat has jet black hair that stops in a sharp angle at her chin. But damn if she doesn’t sound just like my younger sister. I blink again.
“I was going to surprise the family next week when the official announcement comes out, but then you went and had a personal crisis.” She pushes large sunglasses to the top of her head and grins. “You’re looking at the lead role forBargain Assassin. A wig would be nearly impossible, so I embraced my inner Simone and went to the salon.”
It takes my sluggish brain a few seconds to process what she just said. “You got the part? El, that’s awesome.” I step back so she can come inside, then wrap her in a hug. “What are you doing here?”
She pats the bag hanging at her hip. “I came to support you in your time of need.”
In retrospect, implying that Hartley was the one who ended our relationshipmay not have been the best idea when Ella called last night, but it was easier than explaining why I was distraught over a decision I’d voluntarily made. How was I supposed to know she’d drive two hours to support me in my “time of need”?
“Do you want some coffee?” I ask on the way to the kitchen.
She drops her bag on the couch and follows me. “You realize it’s almost three in the afternoon, right?”
“I just woke up and I need caffeine.” I retrieve a mug from the cabinet and drop a pod in the Keurig.
“I know it’s tempting to sleep all day but messing with your circadian rhythm won’t help your mental health.”
I let out a sardonic laugh. “More like the opposite. I was awake until ten-thirty this morning.”
“Ouch. What about melatonin? Have you tried that?”
“No.” Mostly because I deserve sleepless nights after the way I treated Hartley.
“Okay. We’re going to the store this afternoon to get some. And fair warning—this is the only cup I’m letting you have today,” she says as I toss the spent coffee pod in the trash.
I don’t have the energy to argue, so I just nod and take my mug to the couch.
Ella slides her bag to the coffee table and sits beside me. “What would you rather do, watch an action movie, go for a walk, or play darts with Hartley’s picture on the dartboard? Oh! Or this.” She reaches into a side pocket and holds up a booklet that says, “53 Ways to Fold a Paper Airplane.”
My lips form a faint smile. “I didn’t know there were fifty-three ways to fold a paper airplane.”
“Me neither.”
“Also, you really packed a dartboard?”
She opens the main compartment of her bag and removes a travel-sized bullseye (complete with the aforementioned picture of Hartley) and two sets of magnetic darts. “I know the real kind would’ve been more enjoyable, but I didn’t want to risk damaging your apartment.”
“You’re so weird,” I say over the rim of my mug, “but I appreciate your efforts to cheer me up.” I swallow a heaping dose of guilt along with my coffee because Ella should be at Hartley’s apartment withmyface on that dartboard.
“You just sounded so sad last night, and I didn’t want you to be by yourself all weekend.”
My roommate surprised his girlfriend with tickets to some country concertin Knoxville for their six-month anniversary. It’s nice to have the apartment to myself for a few days. There’s only so much saccharine a guy can tolerate when he’s had a breakup-induced stomachache for the past three weeks. I appreciate Ella’s effort, though.
“So, which one do you want to do?”
I weigh my options as I stare into my coffee. I’ve already watched every action movie on my streaming subscription thanks to insomnia, and the dartboard is out for obvious reasons. Origami and physical activity don’t sound enticing either.
“Truthfully? I just want to see Hartley one last time,” I confess. “I know it’s crazy, but...” I need to make sure she’s okay, or at the very least, functioning better than I am. Maybe then I’ll be able to get more than a couple hours of fitful sleep. Except I can’t say any of that to Ella, so instead I settle on, “I miss her.”
“Court, you loved this girl. You thought you had a future with her. There’s nothing wrong with wanting closure after what she did to you.”
My sister’s well-intended words spear me in the chest. I amsuchan asshole. But before I can tell her we’re staying here and making paper airplanes—which is the most random breakup pick-me-up ever, I might add—she stands and removes the mug from my hands.
“Do you have any idea of where we can find her?”