“Sorry about that,” he apologizes, not looking the least bit sorry. Instead, he narrows his dark eyes and gives me another once-over, and honest to God, he’s the first guy I’ve ever seen purse his lips. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
He nods his head before shrugging, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes. “Fine. You can have her cell, but you can’t tell her I gave it you. And if I find out you fucked with her, I’ll kick the shit out of you.”
I almost laugh at his pronouncement. Kick my ass?
Whatever, dude.
Incredulously, I watch as he programs Abby’s cell phone number into my phone before slamming the half-hinged door in my scowling face.
Abby
The text notification comes through just before midnight.
Just as I’m closing my e-reader and taking off the tortoiseshell reading glasses perched on the bridge of my nose, the soft ping of my phone fills the quiet void in my bedroom—the gentle ping I’ve always considered a reminder that somewhere, someone out there is thinking of me at that exact moment.
Regardless of the sentiment, my arm wearily stretches out across my body, grappling for my phone on the bedside table, and I mumble to the empty room, “I swear, if this is Meg, I’m going to freaking kill her…”
I hold the phone up to my face, the light on the small screen brighter than my e-reader blinding me, and swipe the screen with my forefinger to open my messages. I give a small yip of delight. It’s my best friend, Cecelia, and I haven’t texted her in a few hours.
Propping myself up on an elbow, I flip a bedside light on so I’m not blinded by the glow of my phone, and smile when I click open her text.
Cecelia: HEY SLACKER! You must have been busy today. You never sent me a note and now I miss you even more!!!
Me: I’m so sorry. You wouldn’t believe the day I had. And why are you up so late?
Cecelia: Waiting for Matthew to get home. He had a dinner meeting with his agent and I’m up waiting so I can eat his leftovers. He promised me steak. What’s your excuse? Why are you up?
Me: Reading and NOT waiting to eat my boyfriend’s table scraps.
Cecelia: Like I’m going to pass up steak niblets. Don’t roll your eyes at me.
Me: I wouldn’t dare ;)
Cecelia: Everything is situated in the new condo—all is well in Chicago. When are you going to come down and visit?? Or should I come up?
Me: Maybe we should plan an overnight somewhere during my break. Not ALL of us are done with college, Ms. Master’s Degree showoff.
Cecelia: Break would be a good time to come up in the fall. Matthew has a bye week in December and I know he’d love to see everyone. So maybe early first semester?
Me: Okay. But I also really want to see your new condo. Before we get to all that tho… I have a confession to make. I did something stupid.
Cecelia: You???? Abby and ‘I did something stupid’ do NOT belong in the same sentence. MATTHEW and something stupid, on the other hand… Or Jenna and ‘something stupid,’ but never Abby.
Me: Well, then aren’t YOU in for a treat. Are you sitting down? This one is a doozy….
As I move around my bedroom, piecing together my outfit and getting ready for class, I stop to pause in the mirror, studying my reflection with renewed interest.
I’ve already thrown on jeans, a navy fleece, fleece vest, and navy Bean Duck boots. My long brown hair is in a loose ponytail, and since it’s both cold and rainy, I toss on a ball cap for good measure.
Shifting to my dresser, I watch myself in the mirror as I insert small gold hoops into both ears and clasp a thin gold necklace around my neck. Like I do every single morning, my hand reaches robotically into the jewelry bowl for the ring my parents gave me for high school graduation. Dismayed, my fingers touch the cold white ceramic and feebly feel around, but they turn up… nothing.
My mouth turns down, perplexed. Huh. That’s odd.
I crouch down a tad and get eye level with my old oak dresser, eyeballing the surface and moving a few things around. I lift my jewelry bowl, looking under a few notebooks and a blinged out coffee mug. I could have sworn I put it back in the bowl…
I stand in front of the dresser, staring at its surface, chewing on my lip and racking my brain. Where the heck is that ring?
Getting down on my hands and knees, I peer under the wooden dresser, next to it, and under the bed, feeling my way around the thin, threadbare carpet. I grab my phone and open the flashlight app, shining the bright beam under all my furniture.