Page 186 of Becoming Us
It was halfway to my lips when my phone buzzed, jolting me. A notification.
I lowered the bottle slowly, set it down, and brought the phone to my face.
Atticus King started following you.
I read it once.
Twice.
Four times.
Then I sank to the floor, phone clutched close to my chest, and let the words settle into me like warm water on cold skin.
My fingers trembled as I pressed the screen to open the app. There was a big button under the notification indicating I could follow him back.
I held my thumb over it, hesitating—then pressed it.
And suddenly he was everywhere. Images of him filled my feed. His face. His smile. His eyes.
Lying on the cold tile, I curled in on myself and scrolled, greedy for him. Each image was a piece of light I hadn’t realized I’d needed. I took in every detail—the slope of his jaw, the dimples in his cheeks, the way his hair curled when it got too long.
I kept going. Over and over. Again and again.
Until time dissolved.
Until the buzzing in my head dulled.
Until I forgot why I’d come into that bathroom in the first place.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
AFTER
The bar was mostly empty. A couple of tables were taken by men in business suits—probably in town for work—and one guy sat alone at the bar. Aside from them, it was just us.
Ilana had arrived right on time and secured us a secluded table in the back. It felt unnecessarily ominous. She’d already ordered. A glass of red wine sat in front of her, and a club soda had been set neatly for me.
“Sorry for pulling you away from your plans,” she said, offering a tight smile.
“It’s no problem. I’m taking Atty out for touristy stuff—not that I’ve ever actually done any of it,” I added, nervous rambling taking over as usual.
“That sounds nice, actually,” she said. “Normal.”
I smiled. “Yeah. I like that about him.”
Her leg bounced beneath the table, and her hands twisted in her lap like she was trying to stop herself from cracking her knuckles.
“What did you want to talk about?”
Her eyes drifted from mine, and she took a small breath. “I wanted to apologize.”
That threw me. “What for?” It wasn’t like she’d orchestrated last night—or this entire trip. As far as I knew, she’d been dragged into it just like me.
“For a lot of things. But if I had to pick one, all-encompassing reason… I’d say it’s for letting you down—as your older sister.”
I stared at her. What?
