Page 23 of We Can't Be Friends

“On your wrist.” He points at the inside of my left wrist.

Coordinates.

I shake my head no. “Forgot my watch this morning. The watch face usually covers it.”

“That’s it.” He snaps, pointing his index finger. “What are the coordinates to?” My boss has zero tattoos; however, is interested in all of mine. He’s afraid of needles.

“College,” I say quickly; the word and memory are sour on my tongue. I change the subject to talk about our next brand trip in Miami.

Our check-in is quick. Which is another thing I appreciate about him. If we don’t have anything to talk about or make it through the pre-planned agenda, he doesn’t keep me.Time is money,as he says.

Back in my office, my texts to Seth have gone unanswered. Undelivered.

Did he block me?

Screw it, I’m calling him.

On the fourth ring, he answers.

“Hello?” Seth never answers my calls rudely. Did he even look at who was calling him?

“Hello.”

“I’m busy right now.”

That’s when I hear it. A gagged moan. Then a whimper.

“I-I uh. I need to go.”

“Seth, we need to talk.” I’m not relenting.

The call goes dead.

I call again, a video this time.

Dumbass answers.

The video isn’t on him. Well, it is, but not his face. The phone is perfectly positioned that it’s capturing his chest and stomach, bare. . . and a blonde giving him head. The same one from the photos.

“Is this what you wanted, Chloe? I told you I was busy.”

As if rehearsed, she peers up at the camera.

“Who is she?” I ask between gritted teeth.

“Not you.”

I laugh. Uncontrollable. I smack a hand to my heaving chest, a snort I’d maybe be embarrassed about escaping, but who cares right now? My boyfriend is giving me a front-row seat to his infidelity.

“You find this funny?” He switches the camera to his face. “Of course you do.”

I can’t stop laughing. Don’t answer his question.

“No retort from Chloe Henry? I’m shocked.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“We’re over. Done,” I tell him.

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