Page 91 of Maybe You

“I should let you go,” I say into the phone. “It’s getting?—”

“I’m not going to,” he says, and the words come out in a rush, like he wasn’t sure he was going to let them out until they were just there.

“Not going to what?” I ask.

“Have an orgy.” For a moment, the only thing I can hear is his soft breathing in my ear. “And I’m not sleeping with anybody else right now,” he adds like he can read my thoughts.

My heart picks up speed, even if I really don’t appreciate it.

I ignore it and clear my throat.

“Yeah. No. Me neither.” I almost snort out a laugh, because that sounds like I have a steady line of takers queueing up behind my bedroom door. “That sounds… fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats. I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me roll my eyes.

“Whatever.”

“You should probably get some sleep now,” he says.

Probably.

But I’d keep talking to him if he wanted me to.

Which is a clear sign I really should put some distance between us. I’ll be back to my senses once he gets back in town.

“I’ll see you on Monday?” I say, because I just can’t seem to help myself.

“I think it’s pretty safe to say you’ll be seeing me on Monday.”

And still, neither of us hangs up.

Luckily it only takes me a little while to realize I’m being an idiot again.

“Bye,” I say.

“Bye.”

I hang up.

Monday suddenly seems so far away.

EIGHTEEN

I spend the first half of Saturday cleaning. It’s not as if all four of us live in a constant mess, but usually everybody’s busy, so cleaning tends to take a back seat and belongings pile up where they shouldn’t. Right now though, it’s a welcome distraction because I’m still busy being a raging idiot.

Sutton hasn’t texted me at all today.

Which is normal.

What’s not normal is me being so aware of the fact that he hasn’t texted or called.

Hence the spring-cleaning level of commitment to setting the house in order. I wasn’t planning on it, but then I found myself checking my phone every few minutes, and I had just enough brain cells left to recognize the need to occupy myself with something other than obsessing over Sutton and our arrangement.

So I cleaned the house. Scrubbed the bathrooms. Scrubbed the kitchen. Organized shelves and countertops.

It took a few hours and me approaching Remy’s workshop with a sponge before Jordan, Theo, and Remy banded together and kicked me out of the house for the rest of the day “to get some damn peace and quiet.”

I grab my backpack and my sketchpad and head out. I’m pretty sure I hear cheering once the door falls shut behind me.

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