Page 68 of Taking A Chance

Halfway up the stairs, I hear music coming from his place. There’s no way he’ll hear me with it at that volume. It’s not so loud it would bother our neighbors, but it’s definitely loud enough to drown out the sound of me going into my apartment.

The music itself sounds sad; the melody full of melancholy, the lyrics full of regret. I can certainly relate to his music at the very least. Not that I understand why he’d be so sad.

I retreat into my apartment, keeping my eyes on his door the whole time. I’m not sure why. It’s not like I have a backup plan or escape route if he were to come out. I would just haul ass getting my door open and pray I’d make it.

I check my phone again before bed, but there’s nothing I need to bother with. Declan gave up trying to text me days ago, but I haven’t had the strength to delete those either. His name sits a few down from the top. I click on the chat, scrolling back through everything he sent me.

Declan:Please hear me out.

Declan:After everything, I think I deserve that much.

Declan:I don’t understand why you’re sabotaging us.

Declan:Fine. It’s clear you’re not interested in fixing this.

Declan:I can’t believe this is over.

Declan:Please talk to me.

Declan:I’ll be here if you want to talk.

Clicking out of the chat, I swipe left, revealing the red trash can. One click and it can all be gone. I swipe back, unable to do it.Damn it, Lyla.Opening the chat back up, I scroll further up.

Declan:Can I be your boyfriend?

I stare at the older text for a full few minutes, tears beginning to brim my eyes yet again. I should be used to it by now. But every time I cry, I’m surprised and angry.

Exiting the chat once more, I click on Lyla’s messages. Two unread from earlier.

Lyla: Just think about it.

Lyla:Love is worth taking a chance.

I cry myself to sleep, phone clutched to my chest, a pang of doubt in my heart.

39

Cora

Claire isat my apartment at seven on the dot, just like I knew she would be. I’m not sure she’s ever been late for anything in her entire life; certainly not since I’ve known her. My little nap earlier didn’t last long, but I needed it.

I swing open the door, self-conscious about the bags under my eyes.

“Oh my god, what are you wearing?” she asks.

My eyes follow hers down to where she’s looking. Apparently jeans and the T-shirt I have on aren’t going to cut it for where we’re going. It’s not like I knew; she wouldn’t tell me anything about it.

“Let’s get you changed,” she says, as I take in what she’s wearing. Her sleeveless dress falls just below her knee, but she’s thrown a leather jacket over it, making the whole thing look a bit more edgy and cool.

“How about you just pick,” I say. “I don’t have the energy.”

Claire shrugs, unperturbed by my request. “Sure thing,” she says, as she begins digging through my closet. She pulls out my leather pants and a light pink top to match. The off-the-shoulder blouse is flowy, reminding me of the nightgown that’s gone unworn since I dumped it back out of my bag.

“Snap out of it,” she says. “We’re going to be late.”

Shaking the depressing thoughts from my head, I make quick work of changing and then Claire twists my hair back into a loose bun, low on my neck. She throws two silver chains of varying size over my head and stands back, admiring her rushed masterpiece.

“Will this work?” I ask, before sliding into my black wedges.

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