Page 230 of His To Erase
“Oh right. Sorry.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and leans back dramatically. “Forgot we’re in the ‘handle your trauma solo’ chapter.”
I groan, flopping sideways into the cushions. “I didn’t tell either of them anything.”
“Steven included?” she asks, tone softer now, like she’s not sure if she’s treading on a landmine or sitting on it.
I hesitate, staring up at the ceiling like it might give me answers. “He knows something’s off. But I didn’t tell him everything, it didn’t come up.”
Sarah hums. “So you’re just… raw-dogging the emotional fallout?”
I shoot her a look. “You’re literally eating cheese puffs and donuts for breakfast. Don’t come at me.”
“I’m coping,” she says, pointing one at me like a threat. “You’re spiraling in silence, which is hot in theory, but in practice? Kind of a mental health nightmare.”
I blink at her. “I’m not spiraling?”
“Hmm.” She takes another bite. “Tough to say. You did crawl for him.”
“Okay wow,” I shove her knee. “Don’t use that tone like you’re not the bitch who fell in love with a guy who couldn’t even spell ‘affection’ without autocorrect.”
“That was one time. And to be fair, he had great arms.”
“He was catfishing you from a prison phone, Sarah.”
She shrugs. “Again. Great arms.”
I laugh so hard I nearly choke on my coffee. A beat of quiet falls over us, and I can feel her watching me. She looks at me like she can’t tell if I need comfort or chaos—and she’s fully prepared to deliver either. That’s what I love the most about her, she’s not my ride or die for nothing.
“So,” she says gently, “are you gonna tell Steven the truth?”
I shake my head, fingers curling tight around the mug. “I don’t know. I think part of me wants to, but if I say it out loud, it makes everything real.”
“You didn’tletanything happen,” she says, keeping her tone flat. “You survived.”
I look at her, and for once, I don’t make a joke. I just nod.
“Besides,” she adds after taking a sip of her drink, “if Steven is even half as obsessed with you as he seems, he’s probably already figured you out.”
We fall into silence again. She stretches her legs out across mine and sighs. “Okay, now can we talk about my problem?”
“Oh god. What happened now?”
“Some guy on Tinder messaged me five times yesterday and somehow found my booktok account.”
“Wait, what? No. No. We don’t bridge apps. That’s against the rules.”
“He sent me a Goodreads link to a book I reviewed in 2019 and said,‘I bet you look good in glasses.’”
I make a strangled noise. “That’s not flirting. That’s a threat.”
“Right?? I don’t even wear glasses anymore.”
“So, what did you say?”
She smiles. “I sent him a picture of Pennywise holding a library card and said‘same energy.’”
I wheeze. “I love you.”
“Obviously.”
