Page 87 of The First Time
Chapter Thirteen
Piper
I'm numb all night.
When I wake up, I only have the energy to brush my teeth, get dressed, and drag my ass downstairs.
Coffee gives me enough energy to text Kit.
Piper: Can we talk?
I fix another cup and stare.
I make oatmeal and stare.
I finish my food, make even more coffee, and continue to stare.
Ethan bounces downstairs, hugs me good morning a thousand times, makes coffee and eggs, gushes about Violet.
I continue to stare.
Mal joins us, eats his cold eggs, makes tea, teases Ethan about how much he's gushing over Violet.
I stare.
When we join Ethan to check out apartments—he's actually thinking of moving out slash moving in with Violet—I don't stare. But I do feel my phone in my pocket, against my thigh, immobile.
It should be buzzing with a text, an explanation of some kind.
I should be excited for Ethan. Or upset that he's leaving. Or both.
But I don't feel anything. I can't taste my lunch. I can't smell the salty ocean air. I can't laugh over how many celebrity spottings my brothers endure at the mall across from Ethan's potential new place.
It's not until I'm home, alone, in my bed, that I see a text from Kit.
Kit: We should take a break from talking like this.
That's it.
All night.
The next day.
The day after.
That's all he says.
