Page 24 of Resist Me Not
“Well, if he doesn’t turn up soon, the VP is getting the cops involved,” Trent says, maybe a little less dissecting of my face with his eyes, but I can’t be sure. “Every other method of getting in touch with him or figuring out what happened during or after Coitus Con has turned up nada.”
“You don’t happen to know how he broke his wrist, do you?” the woman asks, and I really want to slam my matcha and bolt—or throw it in her face. “He was being really guarded about it. Furniture moving mishap? Please. Was it something super embarrassing maybe?”
“Uh…” Before I can think of anything better than accidentally spewing the truth, something arguably worse crosses my line of vision behind the pair.
Because a block down from us, I spot Trey at the crosswalk, about to cross the street. He told me he was going to be near Yale Place all day, which is all the way across town. Even if he was heading back to his hotel now, being on this street makes zero sense.
Unless he lied.
“What was that?” the woman tries to get my attention, but I am officially done with this conversation.
“I have to go,” I say and dart around them to follow Trey.
They thankfully do not yell after me using my name. Knowing how observant Trey is, he’d probably hear them. Which means tailing him is insane, because he is so going to catch me, but what the fuck, man? Why would he lie?
This area is busy enough that the throng of people helps to hide me. Of course the crowd also makes it difficult to keep Trey in my sights. He is moving away from my apartment, so it’s not like he’s on his way to see me. And he wasn’t coming from the right direction to havecomefrom my place.
I check my phone, trying to balance looking for new texts, drinking my matcha, and keeping track of Trey’s trajectory without getting too close. No new messages from him. He has his shoulder bag like usual, which means he’s working, right? Maybe he got a line on some hot new place to check out and changed plans? It’s not like he owes me telling me every move he makes.
Damn Bryan for making me paranoid.
Damn the sales twins I just left too.
And fuck Curtis for being missing!
Trey takes a left before the next crosswalk, and I have to hover behind the building at the end of the block before peering around it. Sometimes in movies the person you’re tailing knows you’re tailing them and is waiting for you! Or just happens to be looking your way when you least expect it. But when I peek, he is half a block down, still heading away, and then…
He goes into a building. I hurry to catch up so I can be sure which building he entered, and it’s a Saks Fifth Avenue. I’ve followed him to one of the ritzier areas of downtown in my rattiest pair of jeans and vintage Breaking Benjamin band T-shirt from at least a decade ago. While Trey would blend right in shopping here, I feel like a before photo.
But shit, I’ve followed him this far. I have to find out what he’s doing. It’s not like a Saks Fifth Avenue is the type of uniqueestablishment he’d write about, and as far I know, there is nothing special about this one compared to others.
I’m at more risk of being spotted once I’m inside, because I can’t be sure where he went. I stay low, hiding behind displays and trying to avoid any salespeople who might loudly ask if they can offer me assistance—or yell at me for bringing my matcha in with me.
I see Trey come out of an aisle but blessedly turn away from me just as I round some shelves of cookware. I keep my distance again but take a chance on sending him a text.
Walker: hey! study break. thinking of u. still on Yale?
I watch him pull his phone from his pocket, read the message, and… aw, smile when he reads it. He sends a message back.
Trey: I am. With all the places I need to hit, I’ll be here all day, but tomorrow night, I’m all yours.
Thatfucker! He is lying right to my face! Er, phone.
But why? All he’s doing is browsing Saks. It’s not as if…
My blood freezes worse than it had from the sales twins.
It’s the guy. Creepy alcoholic adulterer guy!
Trey looks up from his phone and seems to spot him too. Then seems about to turn my way!
I duck into an aisle of linens for super fancy table settings and clutch my matcha like it’s the landline during a horror movie. Feels comforting but not going to save you. idiot!
I start for the exit, trying to pick the best route out that won’t leave me in view of Trey. Why? Why is he following that man?Is hefollowing him? Why else would he lie to me? I don’t even know how to respond to his text now, but he sends me another one before I can.
Trey: I hope you’re looking forward to it as much as I am, doctor.
I was! Now, the best I can manage in reply is:
