Page 61 of In Plain Sight

“Maybe,” I lied. “Still figuring that out.”

She didn’t need to know that my plans for the night were exactly what I’d been doing when she barged in—a whole lot of nothing.

“Isn’t it your weekend off?”

I nodded.

“Bet it feels pretty great to not have to work on a Saturday for once.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s a nice break.”

The truth was I would prefer to work than spend the weekend alone trying to find things to keep myself busy, especially now that I had this crap with our mom to deal with on top of everything else.

She leaned over and tilted my phone screen toward her to check the time. “I have to go. Danielle’s picking me up soon.”

“Here?”

She stood. “Yeah. You’re welcome to come out with us if things don’t work out with Dean and everyone.”

“I’ll think about it.” I stood too.

“And by think about it, you mean no.” She shot me a look.

I shrugged and walked her to the door. She waited while I put my shoes on so I could wait downstairs with her.

My head wasn’t any less messy when I was back in my apartment twenty minutes later.

I was in one of the weird moods I sometimes fell into where I wanted to be out and be around people, but at the same time, the thought of going out and being around people was about as appealing as sliding down a banister covered in razor blades.

I needed a distraction, but my options were limited. I could get drunk and block out the world for a night, or I could get high and hopefully trick myself into thinking everything was fine for afew hours. Both of those would be effective, but they wouldn’t be helpful in the long run.

On autopilot, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and unlocked it. I needed to talk to someone, and my first instinct was to text Zander.

But he’d just gotten off work an hour ago, and he had to go back to the shop in the morning. I shouldn’t bother him.

And I really shouldn’t talk to him when I was this messed up. It was bad enough I’d dumped all my friend drama on him; I didn’t need to add my family stuff. He’d listen because that’s who he was, and I didn’t want to be one more person who piled their crap on him.

I could always message Nice and see if he was around.

Dropping my hands in my lap, I let my head fall back against the couch with a dramatic sigh.

It was fucked up, but I wasn’t in the mood to sext. I wanted to talk with him, just shoot the shit for a while and pretend like my life wasn’t a giant dumpster fire, but that was dangerous.

A few weeks ago, I impulsively sent him a meme, then spent hours freaking out that I’d crossed some sort of line and wishing Kink had a delete messages option. Then he sent one back, and now we messaged each other at least once, if not more, a day.

We didn’t talk about anything serious, mostly just shared memes and funny stories, but I looked forward to his messages. And that was the problem.

I liked him, and not just as a sexting partner, or because he rocked my world and opened my eyes to a side of my sexuality I’d spent years repressing. I wasn’t sure I could call us friends, but I instinctivelyfeltlike he was someone I could trust, even if he was a stranger on the internet.

I should block him, or at least stop messaging him. I already had one guy in my life I wanted and couldn’t have. The last thing I needed was to add a second one.

“Fuck it,” I muttered and unlocked my phone.

The odds of him being online were low. I could message him without it being a big deal.

I opened the app and went right to my inbox. The little green dot under his name was lit up.

Ignoring the butterflies in my stomach, I went through my phone gallery to find a meme to send him. I settled on one of a kid holding on to a piece of playground equipment that looked a bit like a merry-go-round as it slowly spun and dragged him facedown along the ground.

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