Star-Crossed Letters (Falling for Famous #1)(14)

“The repair guy said your phone is fucked.”

“Shit,” I whisper, closing my eyes against the tears that threaten. The truth is, I don’t care about the phone. All I care about are my texts with Remington. And his contact number, which I still can’t remember.

A sense of loss settles over me. His old PO Box is no longer valid. I tried to send him a Christmas card a few years back, and it had come back to me as undeliverable. I only hope that he’ll wonder what happened and write to me at Mr. Jensen’s shop. But after our last messages, when I stupidly broke our rules, I’m not sure he will. He might think I’m ghosting him, and maybe he’ll be happy about it. Maybe he’ll be relieved I stopped texting.

“Hey, you look like you lost your entire Agatha Christie book collection. It’s okay. Daisy to the rescue. Surprise!”

She holds out a small paper bag. I peek into it and pull out an iPhone, a far newer model than I’d had.

“Daisy! I can’t accept this. There’s no way I can afford it.” Especially after I get the bill for the hospital. I have insurance, but it’s not a great plan and my co-pays are ridiculous. How am I going to pay for more medical bills?

I could, if I accept the job offer as a technical writer, I can’t help thinking. I’d make double what I make at the bookshop and have better benefits. Ugh. I got my master’s in creative writing, not software manuals.

Daisy waves a hand. “Oh, this old thing? I just had it lying around.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Stop looking at me that way. You deserve this. You never ask for anything. Just think of it as a birthday present. It’s unlocked, so I bought you a temporary SIM card with data.”

“I can’t accept it, Daisy. That’s too much.”

She blows out a breath. “You’re so stubborn. You need to get better at accepting gifts. If it makes you feel better, think of it as a loaner until you can get yourself a replacement.”

I don’t want to accept it, but I need a phone. “Thank you, Daisy. I’m grateful for the loan. I’ll give this back to you when I get a new one.” I try my best to give her the cheerful smile she deserves for being so amazing, but it wobbles a little.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy with your new phone.”

“No, I am. I’m just tired. And maybe a little sad about everything in my phone I’ve lost.”

She grins impishly. “Which is how I come to the good news.”

“Wasn’t the phone you gave me the good news?”

“Nah. That’s just a bonus. The good news is that even though your phone is fucked, I flirted with a repair guy, who is some genius specialist, and he’s going to do us a solid by trying to fix it or at least recover all your data. He can’t get to the job right away, but he said he’s confident he can do it.”

“Daisy!” I squeal. “Thank you, thank you!” This time, my smile is real.

“You can thank my teeny tiny but perky boobies and see-through shirt. He stared at my tits the whole time I was trying to convince him to help.”

“Thank you, Daisy’s boobs!” I say with enthusiasm.

“You know, it might not be a bad thing that you lost your phone. To be honest, I was tempted to let it stay broken.”

“What? Why?”

“To start fresh without your text buddy as a distraction. You can have your own summer of risks—just like you said Nanna wants you to have.”

“I’m not going to model nude for a famous photographer like my grandma did. Not that anyone would want me to.” I look down at myself.

“Of course they would. You’re hot, even if you insist on hiding your assets. But you don’t have to do exactly what she did. Just take a risk a day, any risk. It can be something small. Like getting on Tinder.”

“Really? Tinder?”

“Well, any dating app. There are plenty. Or what about speed dating, then? Bungee jumping? We’ll think of something. But the point is to take some risks.”

I gnaw on my lips, which are chapped after two days in the hospital.

I nod. “Okay. Let’s do this. The summer of risks.”

“Yes!” Daisy pumps her fist in the air as if she’s Rocky Balboa at the end of a fight. “But you need a plan, or you won’t do it. You need to take one risk a day for the entire summer.”

“Okay,” I agree. “But I get to choose the risks, not you.”

“You have to seriously consider the ones I suggest.”

“Fine,” I say, because sometimes it’s easiest to just agree with Daisy.

“This is going to be fun,” she says. “And I think your first risk should be finding someone new to crush on.”

A new crush.

My relationship with Remington, if you could even call it a relationship, was supposedly risk-free.

Except “no risk” is just a mirage. There’s a risk in everything, even the things we think are safe, like stepping off a curb. Maybe my phone breaking is the universe sending me a message. I almost died because I was preoccupied with my phone, and that’s basically the way I’ve lived the last few years. When Nanna got sick, it just felt easier to retreat. But hiding isn’t safety. It just means I don’t get all the good stuff along with the bad.