Page 8 of Drift
I tossed my phone facedown and muttered, “Grow up,” to the empty apartment.
It buzzed again almost immediately. I didn’t look. Then again. And again.
I finally snatched it up and froze at the wall of messages.
Ethan
You think I’m joking?
Ethan
You’d be surprised how easy it is to file an integrity complaint.
Ethan
Stop ignoring me.
Ethan
We should meet in person and sort this out before it gets worse.
Before what got worse?
My throat went dry. I typed a reply, deleted it, and finally decided on the path of least resistance.
Me
Tomorrow at The Drift Café. Noon.
Three dots blinked again before his replies came through.
Ethan
Sorry if I was harsh.
Ethan
You push me sometimes.
Ethan
Don’t be mad.
Ethan
See you at noon.
I stood and got ready for bed, telling myself I’d handled it. One last meeting in a public place, and I’d reset my boundaries for good.
When I finally drifted off, my phone was on the mattress beside me, screen facing down and notifications turned off.
The morning lightwas too bright when I woke. I’d forgotten to close the blinds last night.
“Ugh.”
I dragged a pillow over my face before forcing myself out of bed.
After coffee and a shower, I felt a little more human. By the time I dressed, put on a little makeup, pulled my hair into a looseknot, and grabbed my keys, I had rehearsed what I needed to say to Ethan a dozen times. But I still didn’t feel quite ready to meet up with him when I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped outside.
