Page 25 of Broken By the Bad Boy

Noah cannot be Lett. Noah must not be Lett.

I don’t like that guy one bit. I talk myself into opening the novel, and my breath hitches in my chest. It’s empty. It might have been empty for a while. What if Noah isn’t Lett but a sneaky little twat who snoops around libraries? What if this is a silly coincidence? What are the odds?

Lett’s letters are deep. Noah is not that type of guy. He makes jokes only he can laugh about.

A groan slips from me as I pat my pocket for my second phone. It’s at home. Sometimes I forget about the old phone because I use it only for Lett. Footfalls echo behind me. I sink to the floor, but the sound only draws closer. I slap my hand over my eyes when the steps finally stop.

“What are you doing?” Noah asks.

He frowns at the novel in my head. He can’t be Lett. “Inspecting the floor. What are you doing here?”

I stand. Noah laughs. He pulls out another copy of the novel in my grip and flips through the pages. A bout of dizziness strikes me. I place a hand on my forehead. I think I’m about to faint.

“It’s the library,” he replies. “Everyone is allowed in here. Are you sure you are okay?”

He can’t possibly be asking me this. I look around to be sure Olivia isn’t lurking behind a shelf, but the only things in sight are rows of perfectly arranged shelves. He returns the book. Words die in my throat. I take my first step back, then another. Soon, I’m racing out of the library.

I grab Maria on my way out. When she protests, I mouth an apology and a lie. We don’t stop until we are seated. She doesn’t get a chance to ask questions because I shush her and begin the journey home. Once I get home, I scoot upstairs to my bedside drawer and retrieve my phone to text Lett.

It’s now or never.

The notifications on the screen stop me from texting him. I close my eyes and exhale. There are six missed calls from him. Lett never calls me. I dial his number, but he doesn’t pick up. My heart sinks. There are unread messages from him. I tap on them, and my breath rushes out of my lips.

Lett:Where are you?

Lett:BGC. Check it now.

I swallow hard. If there’s an important post, Maria would have informed me. Grabbing my other phone, I open the site, and my letter is the first thing I see. I browse through the comments under the picture. There are guesses. Thankfully, none of them points to me. I breathe easy seeing that.

Me:I just saw it.

Me:I think we should stick to texting.

Lett:Yeah. Sorry I took so long to get it.

Me:It’s fine. You must have been busy. Were you at the library today?

Me:I think I saw you.

Lett:Really?

Me:Yeah.

Lett:Did we speak?

Me:Not really.

Lett:Lol. It’s a yes or a no. I spoke to someone at the library today. Grey polo.

I look down at my shirt. If I admit the truth, then I have to admit Noah is Lett. I shared parts of myself with someone I strongly dislike. I drop the phone and pick it up. He knows what I look like. I know what he looks like. But I still feel protected by the fact we haven’t had a physical interaction, and I want to leave it that way.

Me:We really should stick to texting, no more letters.

Lett:Fine by me.

Eleven

I plucka strand of hair from Ben’s brows, and he winces. “Stay still,” I command, holding the tweezer against his nose. He stares up at me with a frown, and I placate him with a kiss. The naughty boy puckers his lips for another kiss. As tempting as he looks, I ignore him. “Almost done.”

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