Right (Wrong 2)

I move past the front door and move to the selection of fish food, picking a canister off the shelf as a white paw reaches out from underneath the display to swipe at my shoelace. I crouch down to scratch Molly behind the ears. She’s the resident store cat, living there full time. There’s nothing better than a store cat, I think as she squeezes out from under the shelving unit for a more serious petting.

“How long has Shaggy been here?” I ask, nodding to the front window as I pay for my fish flakes.

“Oh, a month or so now,” the owner tells me. “Such a sweet cat.”

“I wish I could take her,” I say, looking longingly at the window. “But I live in a dorm room so it’s not really an option right now.”

“She’ll find a home when the time is right,” she says, smiling and handing me my change. I toss the fish flakes in the bag with my Pringles and head out, stopping outside to tap my finger against the glass and wish Shaggy luck.

Forty-Six

I retrace my steps down Baltimore back towards my building on campus. By the time I pass 40th Street I’m done being sad about Sawyer. Now I’m pissed. And somewhat curious. But mostly pissed. Something was off last week when I met him at his office, on his birthday. And something happened to make him cancel on me the following weekend. Why didn’t he talk to me about it?

Instead he reevaluated me. That’s what he said, reevaluated. Like I’m a business acquisition. But Sawyer has never been that guy. He was every bit as in love with me as I am with him. I know it, yet I keep replaying that breakup in my head. His tone of voice, bringing up his brother. Maybe he never loved me. Maybe I was just a challenge. Seducing the girl with a silly childhood crush on his brother.

Stupid. That’s stupid. Don’t be that girl, I tell myself. Don’t let him make you doubt your worth. Don’t allow him to make you question what was the most honest, real relationship you’ve ever had. He doesn’t get that back. It was real.

He could have been faking it, toying with me, but he’s not that good an actor. No one is that good an actor.

Chloe’s in the room when I get back. I snort out loud when I see her sitting at her desk, tapping away on her computer.

“Out all day, huh?” I say, tossing the bag of Pringles and fish food on my bed, then shrugging out of my coat.

“I only said all that to get you out of the room. I just ran to the library,” she replies. “And I fed the fish.” She nods to the canister that’s been returned to my desk.

“I walked two miles to buy more fish food!”

“Sorry, you needed an intervention.” She doesn’t seem very sorry. “Besides, you seem happier. I think the walk did you good.”

“I guess.”

“So what are you going to do today?” Chloe inquires, standing up and rooting through the Wawa bag. She pulls out a can of barbecue-flavored Pringles and pops them open.

“I think I’m going to stalk Sawyer.”

“That sounds about right.” She nods. “Glad to see you’re back to your old self.”

“Do you want to help? It’ll be just like old times. Except we’ll be spying on Sawyer, not Finn. And we’ll be spying at the Ritz-Carlton instead of from the attic vents in my parents’ house.”

“Hmm.” Chloe pretends to think. “Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”

“This cannot be it, Chloe.” I blow out a breath and sit on the edge of my bed. “How can he just end things like this? I mean, was I imagining things between us that weren’t there?”

“No,” she says quietly, running her finger around the potato chip can. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looked at you. The guy is crazy about you.”