I spin to face the hand’s owner, and my shoulders relax ever so slightly as I catch Kevin Yin grinning back at me.
“Hey, Greer,” he says.
I can’t force myself to make small talk. “Have you seen Locke?”
“He went looking for you.”
See? That’s the logical explanation.
I flash Kevin a tight smile and nod. “Thanks.”
The thumping music spilling out of every room chases me as I race back toward the bathroom, but Locke’s not in the hallway across from the ladies’ room or even by the Moscow Mule bar. I can’t find him on the dance floor or by any of the three bars or in any of the rooms.
What the hell, Locke?
Panic floods my body, and my heart bangs erratically. I force myself to slow down, then sink onto one of the stools by the buffet area. The greasy scent of french fries makes my stomach turn over, but I drag in two deep breaths before I reach for my cell phone and type out a text to Locke.
Can’t find you. Where’d you end up?
Three dots rise on my screen and disappear, then rise again. I left, Greer.
What?
A chill spills down my back as ice swallows all the heat and rage from my encounter with Damien. I slide off the stool and search the venue for a quiet place, but the noise inside is crushing.
I finally slip outside to shiver in the cold while I dial Locke’s number. While the phone rings, I walk toward where we parked, somehow knowing the car will be gone even as I force myself to look. My beautiful skirt drags through the dust and goosebumps race over my skin, but Locke’s car is missing, along with my coat.
At last, Locke picks up the phone, his breath labored on the other end of the line. In the background, I hear the rumble of a car engine.
“You left?” I squeak out. “Are you coming back?”
“Unlikely.”
The pain in his voice makes me freeze, and I curl my toes inside my high heels, dust from the parking lot gritty against my skin. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“No.” His voice is as merciless and unbending as steel. Colder than the night air that wraps around my bare back and arms and numbs my skin.
My chest squeezes so tight it’s hard to breathe again. “Are you sick? Should you even be driving?”
“It doesn’t matter, Greer.” A tinge of anger marks his words.
My mouth drops open. After everything, he’s going to just bail on me? “But you’re my ride, Locke.”
“Not anymore.”
Something’s clawing at him, hurting him, but the injustice of it stings. “That was the whole point of our agreement,” I protest. “We’re supposed to be there for each other.”
I know from the way the silence falls like a boulder that I’ve said the wrong thing. “Yeah, well, it looks like you got what you wanted.”
“What?” I gasp, and then the realization dawns on me. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit. “Locke, if you saw something with Damien, I can explain.” But by the end of my sentence, the only response is silence.
He’s already hung up the phone.
24
Locke
I think I’m gonna be fine. I think I’m going to make it all the way into the office and fake smile at Greer and ignore the burning, stinging sensation that floods my sinus and feels almost like tears, and that I’m going to make it through Thursday and then I’m going to come home and finally let myself implode. But it’s her coat that does me in.
I get all the way into the driver’s seat of my car before I catch sight of the soft black material draped over the passenger seat, and then my vision warps at the edges and everything starts to spin. I press the heel of my hands against my eyes, blotting out the light and plunging the world into darkness, but I can still see Damien kissing Greer last night and my hopes for what we were going to be disappearing just like that.
The car still smells like her perfume.
Get it together, Locke.
She’s going to be cold.
The right thing to do would be to take the coat back to Greer, but in this moment, I know I can’t face her today. Not yet. Instead, I kill the ignition and stumble back into my apartment. I avoid the living room and haul my laptop straight into my bedroom because I can’t bear to sit and stare at the Christmas tree that’s suddenly lost all of its charm. I can’t deal with the sight of Greer’s vanilla ice cream cone, the only special ornament hanging on the tree, reminding me of everything I’ve lost.
I wanted to know if she wanted me, and now I have my answer. I let my feelings get carried away, thinking we could build a future together, but Greer and I were only using each other. That’s all this was.
My apartment issues quiet, familiar noises as I open my computer and summon the offer letter on its screen—the soft hum of the refrigerator, the air vents ticking as they kick out heat. Maybe it’s better this way, to say goodbye to everything at once. To my place and my city and my girl.
The words on the screen blur in front of my eyes, but I know exactly what my choices are. Choices Greer made for me.
Up until yesterday, I felt so sure about us, about our feelings for each other, and now I don’t know anything anymore. I feel exactly how I did when I found out about my dad, only there’s no Greer to turn to for comfort. And that’s the thing that hurts the most. I’ve lost my girl and my best friend all at once.
It was a mistake to not make it clear where each of us stood. I recognize that I’m partway to blame for the way this all shook out, but suddenly I don’t want to have
