Page 99 of Unexpected Boyfriends

"But you sent me that text," I stare at him, brows scrunched in confusion. "You told menotto contact you again. And then you blocked me!"

"What are you talking about? I never fucking did that. Why would I do that?"

"You can't fucking deny it now it's not convenient for whatever reason. I called you. I texted you. Even though your text said not to. Why are you here anyway?" Confusion is giving way to anger, and I've raised my voice, but this is stupid because if I want to get back together with him, this isnotthe way to do it.

"I'm here because I want to sort this out. I don't know what's going on. You ghostedme! And I swear to you, I didn't send you any break up text!" Justin retorts.

His whole face is flushed, and he looks panicky. I want to get back together, but not if he's going to gaslight me. I start rifling though my phone.

“I heard you talking in the kitchen,” I admit, while I scroll to the app I'm looking for. “I know I shouldn’t have been listening, and I didn’t mean to, I was just bringing some dishes in. But I overheard your mum tell you that you had to choose between your family and me. It sounded like you chose your family. Thenyou gave me that story about spending a night with them to sort things out, and then later that night you sent me this text..."

I frown, peering down at my phone. I'm in my messages now, but I can't find Justin's last message to me.

It's gone.

"Show me," Justin scoots across the couch and leans in close, trying to see my screen. My skin tingles from the brief contact of our shoulders brushing up against each other, even through the fabric.

"Wait. It's... it's gone. It's not there anymore." I narrow my eyes at him. "Did you erase it before coming here?"

"What???" he sounds exasperated.

I shake my head. But I have a habit of taking screen shots of anything I want to think about later, so I flick over to my photos and find the screenshot I took that day. I hold the phone out to Justin. His face pales and his eyebrows shoot up. If he's faking his surprise, he's doing a wonderful job of it. Still, the evidence is there on the screen. It can't be denied.

Justin frowns, and gets a distant look as if he’s trying to remember exactly what happened that day. He blinks rapidly a few times as he concentrates.

He pulls out his phone, checks his messages.

"It's not here." Justin shows me his screen.

"Well if you deleted it, it wouldn't be," I snark.

"I'm telling you, I never sent it. I never sent it and I never deleted it," he insists. "And I never got any messages or calls from you. And yeah, I did have that conversation with my mom. She didgive me an ultimatum, and I told her I wanted to be part of the family, but that if I had to choose between the family and you, that I’d choose you.”

I'd missed that part of the conversation. If I’d listened just ten seconds more instead of running off with my pathetic hurt feelings, maybe we'd be in a different situation now. Or maybe not. It still doesn't explain the rest.

I try to explain. “I came to the house the next day, you know. You weren't there. Your dad told me you didn't want to see me anymore. And with everything else that had happened... I... I believed him." I shrug, but I'm not feeling quite so confident now.

Justin frowns. “He told me you came around, but he said you told him you were done with me, tired of 'all my drama',” and he uses air quotes around the last three words. "You hadn't texted me..."he holds his hand up to stop me interrupting, "Ithoughtyou hadn't texted me, 'cause I never got that text, and with all the trouble I'd caused you... well, it just made sense..."

I shake my head. “Ineversaid that. I would never. I promise. I thought you were lettingmego. So in the end I just left.”

We look at each other, both stunned, I think. Thinking about what Justin had just been through, how confused and unsure he had been when he'd come to me after escaping the Centre, how certain he was that I wouldn't want to see him... it would have been easy to make him think I didn't want him.

"Fuck!" I swear, barely containing my anger. I feel like I'm going to explode.

Justin grinds his teeth together, managing to look both furious and vulnerable at the same time. “They just keep lying to us,don’t they?” he rasps. It's not just his dad... there were also Justin's letters with his desperate pleas for help that lay hidden in my mother’s desk for months too.

"That doesn't explain the text, though," I remind him. "And did you really block me?"

His dirty blond locks swish around as he shakes his head. He puts his screen in front of us both and goes to Favorites. Clicks on 'info' beside my name, scrolls down and shows me the number's not blocked.

"Hang on! That's not my number," I burst out.

"What?"

I grab his wrist, and run my finger down the screen until the number shows again. I stab my finger at it.

"Look! The last digit is wrong... it's a 2 when it should be a 1."

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