Page 38 of Waiting Game

“You need to get back here, Cole. Pops’s had a heart attack.”

CHAPTER 8

MIA

Dancing With A Stranger - Sam Smith ft Normani

Cole: Mia, I’m sorry to have to do this but I’m going to need to cancel my lessons. There’s been an emergency back home. My pops’s had a heart attack.

I stare at the message,trying not to wonder if he’s going cold turkey on me after last night.

Immediately, my brain goes to work, reminding me of how fat my ass is, of the fact I’m loud when I come, that I’m too clingy in bed—all reasons for a guy like Cole to back off, seemingly out of the blue because this sounds like the trashiest excuse in the world.

Rubbing at my eyes, I mutter, “You shouldn’t have slept with him.”

I needed that money.

But even worse, I liked him.

Really liked him.

Proof, yet again, that I have the shittiest taste in men. Shitty taste in everything.

God, I’m so fucking useless sometimes it makes me want to scream.

I spend the next twenty minutes second-guessing myself over whether I should reply or not, but in the end, I decide that just because he’s rude, doesn’t mean I have to be.

Even if I’m ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure he’s made this BS up.

Me: I’m so sorry to hear that. I hope he recuperates. Let me know when you’re back in the city and if you want to reschedule your lessons.

That’s when the sweats start.

As does the desire to delete my message.

Instead, I suck in a breath because my chest feels tight and tap:

Me: All the best, Cole.

Awkward.

I hesitate again then, deciding to go for broke, type:

Me: Thank you for helping me to forget for a little while.

The check marks beside the messages turn blue, so I know he’s seen my response.

But he doesn’t reply.

That confirms it.

I grit my teeth at the brush off, but his radio silence does some good—it makes me angry. Enough that my anxiety fades and lets me approach this with a clear mind.

My first act: I immediately swipe on the text thread to delete the conversation.

I don’t need that toxic shit in my life.

I should never have gotten involved with a student. That was on me, but I’ve learned my lesson, an expensive one at that.

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