Page 92 of Exes and O's

I cock a brow. “Really, Crys? I’m not afraid to go in there.” I make a pretend advance, and Crystal leans away from me, her hand clamped over her chest.

“Come on. Think about this. I’m not sure any of this is a good idea.”

“Texting him?” I ask.

“No. Like, all of this. I mean, from what you said, he never gave you any specific commitment other than anI’ll try. Are you really willing to accept that?” When my eyes start to well, she’s quick to add, “I love you, Tara, and I want you to be happy. But I also want what’s best for you. I just don’t want you with another guy you have to fix. Someone who needs so much maintenance. Especially someone you’re rooming with.”

“But have you seen him? Let the girl live!” Mel makes a surprise attack from across the table and stuffs her hand down Crystal’s shirt. She ends up dipping the elbow of her silk blouse in the tiny plastic container of soy sauce, which nearly dribbles on her plush cream area rug.

I reach across the table to assist Mel before she stains anything else. Crystal sees this as an attack and rolls away into the fetal position on the floor. It all goes downhill from there. Mel dives over her, and I launch myself on top of both of them with a bloodcurdling battle cry.

The three of us are screaming like children fighting over the last slice of pizza at a birthday party. Someone has scraped my neck with their fingernail (probably Mel), and somehow Crystal’s messybun has come out and Mel’s blouse is wrinkled and disheveled. We’re seconds away from an all-out catfight.

Given Crystal’s superhuman strength, it takes both Mel and me to pry my phone from her hands. I even resort to tickling her on the ribs to give Mel a window of opportunity to swipe it. By the time Crystal finally relents, we’re flat on our backs laughing hysterically on Mel’s floor, our chests heaving like we’ve just completed a gruesome spin class.

“Okay, on second thought, let’s rethink this,” Mel says breathily. “A random photo of yourself may be a little weird. I think your best bet is a straight-up conversation when he gets back to make sure you’re still aligned. In person. It’s too important a conversation to have through text.”

“You’re probably right.” With what little strength I have left, I reach for my phone to exit the text window.

And that’s when I see it.

Somehow, through our tussle, we have collectively managed to hitSendon the mirror selfie.

Not once.

Not twice.

But three times.

No. No. No.

Fuck my life.

Mouth agape, I show Crystal and Mel what we’ve done.

Mel looks identical toThe Scream, the famous painting from the 1800s with the gaunt, skull-like man with both hands on either side of his head, his eyes wide like he’s just seen death itself.

Crystal is so disturbed, she launches to her feet and starts speedwalking around the living area, her hands to her temples, mumbling, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” which does little to quell my nausea.

Near deceased, I collapse onto Mel’s stylish yet uncomfortable couch, an arm over my eyes to block out my reality. It’s time to defect to the fringes of society. I’ll live out the rest of my days in rugged nature, using twigs, stones, and poisonous berries for currency.

Then again, my animal friends wouldn’t be an adequate substitute for human company. No. I think I’ll stay here in this very spot for all of eternity. It’s only a matter of time before the buzzards descend to feast on my innards. “I don’t suppose you can unsend a text?”

“I don’t think so,” Crystal says, cringing. “But I’ll Google it to make sure.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. No big deal. You like him. He likes you. It’s totally normal to send him photos of yourself,” Mel assures.

“But that’s the thing! I don’t know anything that’s going on in his head,” I shriek. After all, what if Crystal has a point? Is everything he said to me on Friday at odds with his behavior since he’s been gone? Actions do speak louder than words.

“Wait!” Mel rockets up to a kneeling position, her eyes glinting. “Tell him you meant to send it to me or Crystal.”

As per Mel’s sage advice, I craft a new text, which reads,Sorry, I meant to send that to someone else.

My stomach dips, roller-coaster style, when the little ellipses appear in our text screen. Just knowing he’s seen the photos makes my body react in a way it shouldn’t. The dots are there for a solidminute at least. I know because I’ve gone ghostly pale from holding my breath. As soon as the dots appear, they disappear.

By the time Crystal drops me off at my empty apartment, Trevor still hasn’t responded to my THREE selfies.

This can’t be a good sign.

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