Page 38 of Revenge Cake

Dean’s comment seems to make Logan even angrier, which sends a thrill down my spine, but I remind myself that the longer I stay, the more suspicious this “chance” meeting will seem. Plus, I can’t trust Dean not to blab something that might make our walk over here seem calculated.

Just as I’m about to tell Logan we have to leave, he takes a step closer and grips my arm. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

I look at Dean and shoot him a conspiring look, as if to say “back me up.” “We’re already late picking up Brenna from downtown. Can we talk another time?”

Logan doesn’t remove his grip from my arm. He looks a little desperate as his eyes dart side to side, as if he’s thinking of an excuse to keep me here.

“Yeah, man,” Dean says. “We got to go.”

He places a hand on my shoulder and gently guides me away from Logan, who looks a little bewildered as I drift away from him.

Both Dean and I start to back away, and Logan’s eyes fix on the spot where Dean’s hand still touches my shoulder.

As we turn around and continue our walk, Dean starts to talk about how awkward it was running into Logan and how he’s glad he was there to “cover for me” with the lie about picking up Brenna, but I’m too distracted. My ears strain to hear the sound I know should be coming any moment.

Less than a minute later my phone buzzes. Smiling, I lift my phone from my purse and open the text.

Logan: What the hell was that?

I quickly put my phone back into my purse. I won’t answer this one.

Let him stew for a while.

***

I’m on pins and needles for the rest of the day, waiting for the second text that will tell me the plan worked.

I hope that it was enough. I hope that Logan still hates Dean enough that he’ll act impulsively.

But a voice from somewhere deep down whispers that nothing could ever be enough, that the whole list was written in vain, that I can make myself as hot and aloof as a femme fatale, but I can’t make him care for me again. Not when he’s already found someone he cares about more.

To snuff out the voice, I distract myself by giving my bedroom a deep clean.

To make room in my closet for my new makeover clothes, I grab every piece of clothing in a drab color like gray or cream and toss them into a bag meant for Goodwill. As I sift through my closet, I half-consciously wonder where that single bright color went. The red “My Boyfriend is a Feminist” T-shirt.

Oh, that’s right. I took it off and tossed it onto his floor that morning in his apartment. “You are unhinged right now,” he said. An involuntary giggle bursts from my chest, but my attention is immediately drawn to a buzzing sound on my desk.

When I turn around, my phone is lit up. Even from this distance, I recognize the name on the screen. I rush to my desk.

Logan: I think we need to talk about the parameters of our break. I thought I made it clear but you must have misunderstood.

A malicious smile spreads over my face. His tone may be neutral, but I know him better. I know it took him great effort to make this text sound reasonable. I know he sat and seethed over it. I know the first text he wrote—then promptly deleted—was much more inflammatory.

He’s furious, and I need to capitalize on it.

I set my phone back on the desk and start to pace the room while I think of my next move. If I agree right away, he’ll want to “talk about the parameters of our break” over the phone, and I can’t have that. If I want to really lure him back, I need to see him in person again, preferably tonight at the bars.

I grab my phone and type out a text.

Me: No, I understood everything fine. Dean and I were just hanging out as friends. He’s been my rock this past week. I don’t know what I would do without him.

I snort after I type the last sentence and press send. Anyone with half a brain would know that I’m goading him with it, but hopefully Logan’s over the top possessiveness will blind him to my wiles.

The “…” appears and then vanishes before appearing again.

I shut my eyes as I giggle, giddy at the evidence that my strategy worked, that I flustered him, but the text that appears shortly after is beyond my wildest expectations.

I squeal when I see it.

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