Page 25 of Strung Along
Me: Are u sleeping? Do u wear ur boots to bed?
Me: I don’t. Anyway idk y I wanted to talk 2 u, but I do
Me: Srry I’m being weird. G2G! xo
There isn’t a reply from him until the two from five o’clock this morning, three hours after I sent my final embarrassing text. I don’t know why I opted to message him, of all people, but maybe it’s because of what happened with Brody. The encounter that’s solely responsible for this headache and dry mouth.
I barely know the guy, and he’s already enemy number one in this small town. If he were more like Bo, maybe we would have gotten off on a better foot.God, what am I talking about?I don’t even know this Bo guy either.
They should both be completely off limits. No more interesting text convos or butting heads at crowded bars. But then again, where would be the fun in that?
I stare at the screen for an embarrassingly long time before typing out a message and forcing myself to send it.
Me: I’m shocked you didn’t block me.
When there’s no answer after a couple of minutes of me staring at the screen, I toss the phone onto the bed and slide out from beneath the blankets. The carpet is a shaggy type of material, and while I hate vacuuming it, it does beat setting my feet on a cold wood flooring in the morning.
I have a quick shower—scrubbing at my nails until the pink disappears—and get dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt before grabbing my phone and joining the women in the kitchen. Bryce hasn’t showered, but she looks a bit more refreshed as she chomps on a bagel, a to-go cup of coffee on the kitchen table in front of her.
Poppy notices me first and slides the unclaimed cup of coffee across the table to where an empty chair sits. Like all of the furniture in this place, the dining table and chairs came includedin the rent. I got lucky when it came to finding this place. It’s not like I had any furniture after I left Stewart. I had sold all of my own furniture back when I gave up my apartment to move in with him.
“What are the odds that you could fit me in for a hair colour this week?” Poppy asks, sipping from her own drink.
I slide into the empty chair and wrap my hands around the warm cup before taking a test drink from it. The coffee is warm but not hot and sweet enough without being too much for my sensitive stomach.
“Probably pretty high. I’ve mostly been doing walk-ins since I started. What are you wanting?”
“Something that she’ll hate in a week and demand you change back,” Bryce teases. It’s nice to see her eyes bright again.
“Don’t pick on me,” Poppy chastises her and then says to me, “I just want some new highlights.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I say, “Let me know when you’re thinking, and I’ll make it work.”
Her grin is blinding. “Will do.”
The conversation dulls before Bryce switches gears and brings up an idea she has for the pole studio. I let them talk and grab my phone, reading the message on the screen.
Bo: Maybe I should have, but I didn’t want to. How’s your head this morning?
Me: Angry, but I’ll live. I’m sorry again. I don’t know why I texted you.
When his reply comes back right away, I fight back a smile.
Bo: I’m not complaining about it.
Flicking my eyes up at the women at my table, I’m grateful to find that they’re still talking amongst themselves and not paying me or my totally weird smile any attention.
I might like texting Bo, but I’m not about to explain anything more to them than I’ve already shared. It’s hard to explain something you don’t even understand yourself.
For now, he gets to be my little secret.
11
BRODY
Banana: Alright . . . so, what did you do last night?
I don’t knowwhy I’m standing out in the cold with my gloves off and my fingers bare to the whipping wind as I tap at my phone screen, but I make no move to stop. My lips are numb as I rub them together, snow plastering to my bare face. A small head shoves against my side as the calf beside me tries to get me to abandon my texting and pay attention to it again.