My mouth shrivels up into a small pea-sized “o” as my eyes widen in horror. “Oh God, why did I text that?”
“I don’t know!”
“Maybe he didn’t read it, or better yet, maybe he’s relieved . . .”
**ELI**
“Holy fuck, Posey, wake up. Wake up.” I shake my friend, who was mid-snore when I charged through his door again.
He whips his mask off his face. “I am going to murder you.”
“This is bad.” I sit on his bed and hold my phone up to him. “She wants me to leave. You texted her, and now she wants me out of the apartment. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
“What?” He rubs his palm over his eye. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing. I said nothing. I didn’t write anything after your text. Dude, if she wants me to leave, that’s bad. Pacey will not like finding out that I’m not helping her. He already won’t talk to me. Now this?” I pull at my hair. “What the fuck do I do?”
“I’m still trying to figure out how this escalated so quickly. That was a simple question.”
“Do you see what I’m dealing with?” I say, my voice an octave higher than normal. “I should have just kept it simple and told her the apple was juicy. Which is better than saying it was moist. What the hell was I thinking letting you take charge?”
“Give me the phone.” He swipes it from my grasp and reads the text message while scratching the side of his face. “Huh.”
“See. How can I possibly figure out how to talk with her—”
My phone beeps, halting my sentence and freezing me on the spot as the recognizable sound of a FaceTime call rings through the room.
“What the actual fuck are you doing?” I ask Posey as he holds the phone in front of me.
“Getting to the bottom of this.”
“I don’t want to call her. Give me the phone. Give me the goddamn phone . . .”
**PENNY**
“Breathe, breathe,” Blakely says while I breathe into the bagel bag from this morning. “It will be okay.”
I shake my head, the bag crinkling next to my ears.
“Yes, it will. I’m sure he didn’t even read—”
My phone buzzes in front of us, and my eyes meet the image on the screen. I tear the brown bag off my face and, in a panic, scream, “He’s FaceTiming me!”
“Oh, dear God,” Blakely says while reaching for the phone. I quickly swipe it away.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Answering it?”
“What? Why?”
“Because he clearly wants to talk to you after what you wrote.”
“And that’s what text messages are for, so you can reply through text, not FaceTime. Who in their right mind FaceTimes someone in the middle of a text conversation? That’s unheard of. That’s . . . that’s breaking social etiquette.”
“Well, he’s probably freaking out because you told him you want him to move out. That warrants a phone call.”
“I’m not answering.” I clutch my phone to my chest, but in some wizardly way, Blakely rips it from my grasp. I then swat it from hers just as I hear the sound of the phone being answered.
I gasp and clasp my hand over my mouth while Blakely stares at me wide-eyed.
Silence falls over the both of us, echoing through her office as a distant voice says, “Hello? Penny. Are you there?”
Nostrils flared, I stare at my friend. Mouthing to her, I say, “Don’t say a thing.”
She gestures harshly at the phone and whispers, “Answer it.”
I shake my head vehemently.
“Penny, is everything okay?” Eli’s voice rings through.
Blakely and I stare at each other. I’m telling her to zip her lips, and she’s drastically trying to convey with her eyes that I need to answer the phone.
Neither of us moves until . . .
She reaches down and grabs the phone and points it at her face. She fluffs her hair and says, “Oh, hey Eli, how’s it going?”
“What are you doing?” I hiss-whisper at her.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, worry clear in his voice.
“Yup, everything is fine. Oh look, here’s Penny.”
“What are you—” She points the phone at me, and I smile. But it’s not a normal smile. It’s as if each side of my mouth has been hooked, and two people are pulling straight back, baring my teeth in a mid-hiss-snarl.
Just know, it’s extremely unattractive, and I don’t blame him when his facial expression turns from concern to an appalled wince.