Page 33 of The Social Affair (New Hope 1)

It’s cold out, but not frigid. Lucky’s was slammed today, and my back aches from being on my feet all day.

Originally, I typed out a text to Grant to ask if he might give me a ride. But then I thought better of it and deleted the text. I don’t want to be the kind of person that asks people for rides, much less someone like Grant Dunn.

We might be friends, but even I know there’s a limit to friendship. I’m aware that he has more important things to do. In the end, I’m glad I deleted the text, because when I open up Instalook, I quickly learn he isn’t on his way home from rounds. He and Josie are at some fancy party, and what a fool I would have felt like had I sent that text.

I study the photo carefully. I stop just so I can have another look. Josie is wearing a deep burgundy dress. It’s backless and as usual she looks radiant. Grant dons a tuxedo, and in the photo she’s looking up at him. She’s blushing, and in her eyes there’s complete admiration. I feel a sharp pain in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know what it would be like to know happiness like that. But I think I used to, once upon a time.

I go home, and I feed Josh’s damned cat, and I plop down on the bed. I don’t even bother to change out of my work clothes. I’m too exhausted to take another step. But I don’t sleep. I lay there and try to imagine all of the times I might have felt the way Josie felt in that Instalook photo.

Eventually, when nothing comes to mind, I reach for my phone and stare at the photo of the two of them. I trace my finger around the edges of their faces as though I might feel that level of desire. And for the first time in a long time, I think I do.

I feel it on the nights I sit next to Grant Dunn in his car. I feel it as I watch his hands on the wheel, and I feel it when he says my name. At some point I drift off. Thoughts of the Dunns fill my dreams.

I wake abruptly with a dry mouth and a stiff neck. It’s still dark out. In my dream, I was at a party with Grant. Josie had followed us there, and no matter how many times we told her to go, she stayed. I don’t recall what occurred after that—I only know I awoke to the sound of a scream lodged deep in my throat.

Three nights later, I’m walking home. I’m not walking because I’ve missed the bus. I’m walking to punish myself. I swore I wouldn’t get on Instalook, and I’ve been on Josie’s page fifty-two times today. After the nineteenth time, I made myself start marking it down just so I know how severe the punishment needs to be. At this point, I’ll be walking home all week.

The problem is, the reason I can’t stop, is Josie hasn’t posted, and it’s killing me. The holidays are coming, and this time of the year is the worst. The days are shorter, and the nights are endless. Needless to say, I’m about as low as one can get and desperate for a plan— something, anything— to ease the loneliness of going home to an empty apartment.

Also, three days is an eternity. I think of all the reasons she wouldn’t have posted. Maybe she’s sick. Maybe Grant has died. Maybe she has died. The latter wouldn’t be as bad as the former. But still.

More likely though, it’s something slightly more plausible…like she’s busy or her phone broke.

I’ve considered all the ways I could go about finding out how to fix this. I’ve run through all the ways I can insert myself into their life. I need answers. I need more. I did a search to find their address. It wasn’t hard to find them.

Trouble is, I don’t have a working car, so I can’t drive by. I consider Ubering it or calling a cab, but those things leave records. And I know better.

But all bets are off if there’s nothing on Instalook by tomorrow. Then maybe I’ll ask Tyler if I can borrow his.

I pull my coat tighter around me, and I pick up my pace. It’s colder out than I thought. I consider scheduling an appointment for a nose job or breast implants—something just to see his face again. Of course, there is the issue with how I’ll pay for it all. Maybe I’ll use Stacey’s social and open one of those medical credit accounts. Or maybe Grant will stop with the ghosting he’s doing, or maybe his wife will post to Instalook and then I won’t have to do any of that.

In the meantime, I walk on into the night. Obviously, I’m secretly hoping Grant will drive by and offer me a ride, and I figure walking is my silent call. As luck would have it, it works. I almost can’t believe it when I spot the familiar headlights. It’s astounding how one can go from such a low to such a high in a matter of seconds. Astounding.

He doesn’t ask me to get in this time. I just do.

“Jesus. Izzy. Why are you walking on a night like this?” He turns up the heat. “Do you not have any family?”

I shake my head and wonder why he’s asking such obvious questions. His expression is fixed, and his tone isn’t soft and smooth. It’s hurried.

“Things have been hectic,” he says with a heavy sigh. He leaves it at that. I do, too.

I’m sad when we pull up to the apartment complex that isn’t mine.

“Thank you fo

r the ride.”

He rests his hand on my knee. Briefly. “Anytime.”

I reach for the door handle. The door is locked, so I look over at him. “Why didn’t you text tonight?”

I shrug.

He purses his lips and sadness sweeps across his face. “I was hoping you would…”

Suddenly, I’m screaming on the inside. I could burst with happiness. It’s dark outside but I swear I see all the colors of the rainbow. I press my lips to one another. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Are you kidding?” he says. “This time with you, this is one of the highlights of my day.”

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