Where the hell could I have—
“Ohhh.”
Suddenly, I remembered that Iain had taken it out of my hand yesterday.
But where did he put it? Didn’t he put it right here?
My head whipped to look at the table next to the couch, and when I saw nothing I dropped to my hands and knees, searching every inch of the ground and under the couch before getting back up and digging through the
cushions.
Then I spent the next fifteen to twenty minutes searching every other square inch of the suite including the bathroom, because dammit, I knew how it’d look if I texted Iain asking about my MetroCard. I’d look like a silly little schoolgirl finding any flimsy excuse to talk to her crush, and for the love of God, I’d already gone through the mental pep talks and gotten myself fully prepared to be an adult about this.
“You know what?” I said aloud, standing in the middle of the room, breathless as I took a break from my frantic search.
For the sake of your pride, maybe just eat the hundred-thirty dollars, I thought. Call it a loss. Carry on with your life.
But my nose wrinkled as I thought about how someone had gotten me fired from my other job, and it wasn’t like the cash I’d saved for the bed couldn’t be used toward my student loans.
Iain’s rich. You’re not, I reminded myself.
Plus a part of the All Grown Up checklist—which was very much real—was about sticking up for myself. Adam used to implore me endlessly to speak up when I felt wronged—namely by Mom—but I hadn’t really started till moving out.
And to be fair, no one had really done anything to warrant me having to stick up for myself. Except for Lana at my old waitressing job. But Mia always jumped in like an angry mama bear before I could even open my mouth, so technically, I hadn’t once stuck up for myself yet.
So…
I waffled with myself for another ten seconds before grabbing my phone, rapidly typing up a text and firing it off to Iain before I could even stop myself.
ME: Hey. I can’t find my monthly MetroCard and I’ve looked everywhere for it. Do you remember where you put it?
It was simple. Straight-forward. Deliberately stripped of anything besides the necessary information.
Still, it made my cheeks burn because I hated thinking about what Iain looked like upon seeing my name lighting his screen just hours after he’d left me. He’d probably groaned under his breath and thought should’ve known or here we go.
Standing in the middle of the giant room, I held my phone in both hands, reading and re-reading my text till I saw the three dots to indicate that he was typing.
They blinked for less than two seconds before his equally straight-forward text came through.
IAIN: I sent an assistant to buy you a new one. You can pick it up at reception.
I stared for a moment.
Then I felt a fresh wave of heat flood my face and my ears, because I hadn’t intended for Iain to buy me a new MetroCard, and there was something vaguely mortifying about the second line of his text. It was like a stern reiteration that he would not be seeing me again.
But once I got over how very embarrassed I was, I breathed in deep through my nose and reminded myself that I had bought that thing with hard-earned cash. I had every right to get my stupid MetroCard, so slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I marched out the door with a mantra.
Get in, get out.
And then get on with your life.
13
IAIN
“Uh-oh.”
I stilled at my desk when I heard Erica laughing quietly outside my office with a colleague.