Page 57 of Texts From My Exes
Thought of you today. Mostly because I saw a squirrel get hit by a Prius and remembered your laugh. Wouldn’t you know that little sucker still made it?
—Matteo
“Harper!”
She didn’t stop walking away from me. Not when I shouted her name, not when I chased her down the hall, not when she shoved through the double doors and out into the sun.
Gone.
I pressed my palms to my face and swore until my throat went raw.
The producer had already slipped away, smug bastard, probably rushing to report back to Graham. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t need to check to know who it was.
I checked anyway.
Graham
Got it all. Her reaction was priceless.
I wanted to smash the phone into the wall. Instead, I typed back with shaking thumbs:
Me
I told you this wasn’t for the show.
Three dots appeared, taunting me.
Graham
Keep telling yourself that. The contract says otherwise. You wanted dirty. We’re giving the people dirty.
I slammed the phone down on Harper’s desk, ran both hands through my hair.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The perseverance sign, the setup—it was for her. Only her.
But now? Now she thought I’d sold her out.
And maybe I had.
Because no matter how many times I told myself it was real, the cameras were always watching. And the girl I wanted more than anything now thought every kiss, every touch, every look—was a lie.
Harper
Went back to school.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
HARPER
Do you still have Hulu? And if so…can you make me a new profile because mine says ‘Still sucks his thumb in bed.’ My girlfriend noticed. Not cool, but I’m not above some free streaming, hit me up with the PW.
—Danny
I’d been back in my classroom setting up for an hour before I had the idea. The bathroom light was too harsh, but I didn’t care. Did I imagine I’d be so angry that I’d be hiding on the tiny toilets in my elementary school away from Ezra and everyone and filming my own confessional for my channel? No, no I did not, was this against the rules? Who knew but they wanted more footage, they wanted truth, they wanted me to be creative, there I was, sitting on a toilet seat fit for a child, being creative! I was so pissed I was shaking. My phone trembled in my hand as I hit record.
“You want the truth?” My reflection stared back at me, eyes red, mascara smudged, hair a wreck. “The dark, dirty truth behind all of this?” My hands were shaking with rage.
