Page 18 of Between the Flames

“What?!” I asked, looking down on the phone too.

That’s when I saw it. The worst possible thing I could have seen in that moment.

A blue thumbs up.

I had liked a picture.

I stared at the little blue thumb under the photo.

No.

No.

NO.

SHIT.

I slammed my head against the back of the couch, closed my eyes and let my phone fall from my grasp and into my lap. Dammit.

“Well…” Rosie drawled, voice trailing off. My eyes snapped open, my blue eyes locking with her hazel.

“I’m going to kill you.” I shot daggers at her through my eyes, but unfortunately, my glare did nothing to frighten her. Clearly my bark was worse than my bite, but really even my bark was more like a dull woof.

“He probably won’t even notice, friend. Guys don’t pay attention to stuff like that. I’ll bet he doesn’t even log on.”

She barely finished that sentence before my phone pinged, alerting me that I had a new Facebook message. Raising the phone to eye level, my eyes widened as the message automatically pulled up. My phone slipped through my fingers like it had scalded me, and Rosie scooped it up before I had the opportunity to reach back out and grab it.

“Oh my God!” she squealed. “It’s from him!”

I reached for my phone, but she stood up, walking away as she read the message aloud.

Ryder Thompson:Hey. How are you doing?

Such a simple message, but Rosie outwardly swooned. I groaned, burying my face into the nearest pillow, thankful that my hands landed on chenille rather than the rougher canvas one next to it. At least my face would be cushy when I wallowed in self-pity.

I was mortified.

How did this even happen?

Fingers tapped quickly as Rosie worked to type a response back to Ryder. I launched myself off the couch, lunging at her faster than my brain could compute, in a race to get my phone.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’ve already done enough damage for one night, don’t you think?” I said, pinning her with an icy glare while I yanked the phone from her grip. She rolled her eyes at me, huffing, as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Fine, but you can’t just ignore him. You have to respond!”

I locked the screen and pocketed the phone. “I will. Later. Maybe. Do you want to start a movie?”

I fell back down on my couch and kicked my feet up onto the ottoman, reaching for the remote. A distraction to this utter travesty is what I need.

“Nah, I’m gonna head home.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her, glancing at my watch. It was barely seven-thirty.

“Boo,” I said, giving her a pouty lip. “That’s no fun.”

She laughed as she walked around my studio and gathered up her belongings. Every time she came over, it was like a Rosie tornado hit—I had even invested in a designated basket, which I placed on a small table by the door, dedicated to just the things she left behind. Because she left something behind, every single time.

She glanced around my small space one more time before padding over to me, her bare feet making light pitter-patters on the tile as she approached.

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