Page 22 of Electric Touch

Half an hour later, I stop walking in the Flat Iron District. I buy a coffee and walk into Madison Square Park. Sitting alone, I torture myself with memories of the past. How our friendship grew, how it blossomed into something more. Our first kiss. Riley was my first everything.

I didn’t care that my friends were out fucking as many girls as they could. Riley was all I wanted.

Yes, this shit sucks. Those days are gone. I have a fresh path to follow that doesn’t include Riley.

Dylan finds me a couple of hours later, still sitting in the park.

“You tracked my phone?” I groan as he sits down beside me.

My brother snags my Pepsi bottle off the table and drinks half of it. “Someone has to monitor your unruly ass,” he laughs. “Do you want to know what happened after you left?”

“The pertinent points,” I shrug.

“Everyone agreed to Declan’s terms. One big happy family. No more social media, a united front and a focus on the music.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah, amazingly enough,” he laughs out loud. “She left first, but she agreed. He didn’t say it, but I could see it written all over his face. You kicked ass, bro. It impressed Ciro.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“Because the man is granite. I’m not trying to make you feel better. Alessa told me the shit he said to you outside. She tore him a new one. He did look kind of ashamed after.”

“Everyone is scared of Alessa,” I smirk.

“I don’t know, man. You were powerful back there. You’re my hero.”

“Fuck off you little shit,” I push him, and he nearly falls off his chair laughing.

“Guess I better delete IG,” Dylan takes out his phone. “Or disable it. How do I do that?”

“You disable it for a month, then they shut it down if you don’t log back in.”

“It’s not like I used it a lot,” he frowns at his phone. “I have a DM. Let me read this first.” He waggles his brows. “Could be a hot chick.”

“Dylan, shut it down.”

“I will, after I’ve read it,” he grins. He reads the message, his brow creasing. “This is weird.”

“What?”

“Do you know some guy called Apollo?”

My heart pounds. It has been three weeks since I saw her in the bar. I didn’t expect to see her again, despite the two coincidences where we ran into each other.

“He says he wants to talk to you. Shall I tell him to fuck off?”

“No, wait.” I reach for Dylan’s phone and read the message.

“Who is this guy, and did you make a bet with him?” Dylan asks.

“No, but I know who he is and what he’s referring to.”

I don’t know what he wants. I doubt he wants to be friends. Which makes me think it must have something to do with her. I feel a pang of concern, wondering what it might be. He wouldn’t contact me of his own free will.

Dylan watches while I have a very weird text conversation, with a guy I’m pretty sure I don’t like.

Apollo: This is a message for Nash. Please read before you delete it. Can you tell him Apollo needs to speak to him about the fifty bucks bet?

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