Page 74 of Revenge Cake

“They were the kind of girls I always had a crush on too, but they wouldn’t give me the time of day. It was like they thought they were too good for me and not good enough at the same time. You know?”

“No.”

“Leilani was that girl. She’s that girl now. She’s just pushing me away and I can’t let her do it.”

He looks like he wants to roll his eyes. “Logan, she dumped you. I know this is a first for you, so you might not understand how it works. When someone dumps you, you don’t get a say.”

“I know, but it can’t just end like this. I need to get her to hear me out.”

He shakes his head. “This is a terrible epiphany. I think you’re wigging out.”

“No way!” I shout, exhilarated by the first flutter of hope I’ve felt in two days. “I’m going to win her back! She’s been telling me from the very beginning that I’m going to ditch her like I have all of my ex-girlfriends. She’s afraid, because she’s just like those blue haired girls in high school—like Ali Rivers, god damn you! I’m sorry I never heard of your fucking subtitled anime show that ‘changed your life…’”

Armaan looks incredulous. “Who the fuck is Ali Rivers?”

I shake my head. “A girl I went to high school with. Sorry, I think I am wigging out.”

He exhales. “I’m glad you realize it.”

“But not about Lani! I’m going to win her back. I’m going to wear her down until she talks to me!”

He shuts his eyes. “Oh, Logan.”

His response doesn’t deter me. I jump from the couch and walk to my bedroom to grab my phone from my dresser. I had left it in there because I couldn’t stand its silence. Every buzz of a text not from Lani felt like a punch in the gut.

Elation courses through me when I press send.

Me: I won’t let you go without a fight.

CHAPTER 31

Leilani

Forty-two text messages.

Eleven ignored calls.

And three pleading voicemails.

All within the span of two days.

Ghosting someone shouldn’t be emotionally taxing. By definition, it’s the most passive form of rejection. We communicate our lack of interest by vanishing from their sight. Unfortunately, Logan Henderson has next level persistence, and vanishing isn’t as simple as ignoring a few texts.

I can almost feel his mounting frustration radiating through the phone. Logan hates being ignored. He can’t stand it.

I should have known he would approach our breakup with the same relentless determination he employed when he pestered me into becoming his girlfriend. He knows how his vulnerability gets to me—the way he so willingly bares himself to rejection—and he’s using it in full force to wear me down.

Logan: Lani I’m dying.

Logan: Please hear me out.

Logan: I’m a fucking mess. Just give me one more chance to explain myself.

And then there’s those awful voicemails. Each one is whispered—an intimate voice just for me—and he talks as if I’m right there with him. In his room. In his bed. “Remember when I told you about my grandma’s basement? I want to live in a house with a basement with you someday.” “I want to have kids with you—creepy little kids who are obsessed with death and have your giant, Tim Burton eyes.” “Just let me come over and talk to you so that you can tell me I’m weak, unfunny, and have a dumb voice.”

I can’t take it anymore. I need a distraction, and after listening to one of those devious voicemails just before bed last night, I woke up this morning with a newfound determination to leave Logan Henderson in the past where he belongs. It’s time to move on with my life.

It’s high time.

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