Page 96 of Hate Me Like You Mean It
CRRRK. “I assumed you blocked my number after the shit I pulled this morning. Thought I’d have better luck reaching you through here.”
“I… um, was trying to sleep,” I responded, not knowing what the hell else to say.
CRRRK. “That never stopped us before.”
I blinked down at the device, speechless.
CRRRK. “Alice?”
“Yeah?”
“You stole my hoodie.”
He might as well have aimed a blowtorch directly at my face for how quickly it flamed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You swapped it for the replica, thinking I wouldn’t notice. Almost got away with it, too. The tiny nick on the hood and overwashing to fade out the blue was a nice touch, but you forgot one major detail.”
I kept my mouth shut. Asking the question nipping at my tongue was on par with confessing.
Still, it was bugging the hell out of me. I’d been so careful—had gone as far as to check the labels to make sure they’d matched.
“Do you want to guess, or should I just tell you?”
“There isn’t anything to guess. I didn’t take your hoodie.”
“Okay, then I’ll just say it. Turns out you missed a spot, and I’m deathly allergic to poison ivy.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “How fortunate that you didn’t get any on you while handling the bouquet of dead roses you left for me.”
“Isn’t it? Even the smallest trace of the stuff can put me in a coffin, apparently.”
“Is that where you’re walkie-talkie-ing in from?”
The speaker crinkled with a sigh. “Yeah, they wouldn’t let me take my phone with me. Turns out eternal damnation doesn’t include a network connection. I’d clean up my act now if I were you, before it’s too late. Get all your confessions out of the way. Return any items you may have stolen.”
I bit my cheek, taking a seat on the carpet and settling back against a wall. “I’m not giving it back.”
“Okay. Fine. Then come fix this one.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It doesn’t smell like you.”
My heart burst, sending butterflies and confetti flying everywhere. “What, like right now?”
“Yes.”
“It’s almost one,” I said again. “Can it wait ’til tomorrow? I’m tired and don’t really feel like going anywhere right now.”
“I’ll come to you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you rose from the dead, I guess.”
“That’s what happens when you’ve got this much unfinished business buried underneath two lifetimes’ worth of regret.”
I sat with that for a minute, toying with the loose thread poking out of my shorts. “That’s a lot of regret for someone still in their twenties.”
We sat in silence for a while, a million unspoken words hanging between us.
