Page 5 of Breakaway Hearts

She sounds almost hurt, or maybe even…

Wait. Is shejealous?

Before I can process that thought completely, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I tighten my hand around my empty beer glass.

“Callie,” I blurt out without thinking. “I’m dating Callie.”

Sienna’s eyes widen, and she takes a step backward. “You’re datingCallie?” Her smile falters for a second, then reappears as she huffs a small laugh. “Wow. I had no idea. Really?”

“Yup.” I shrug, making sure to keep my voice casual, even though I’m panicking a little on the inside. Of all the names in the world, Ihadto say my best friend’s.

And now I’m going to have to back that lie up. Because Callie is on her way.

Chapter2

Callie

I put my half-complete lesson plan for next week in its folder and stretch my arms above my head. Working past nine p.m. on a Thursday is nothing new, but it doesn’t stop the fatigue from hitting. Agreeing to go out with Reese might’ve been a mistake, but it’ll probably be good for both of us.

He needs to recuperate from a loss on the ice and a bad breakup. I need to go out with people my own age. Win-win.

I get up from the kitchen table and head into the tiny bedroom in my tiny apartment. It’s not the worst place to live, especially since it’s cheap and habitable, but those conditions still sound pretty pitiable—even to me, the woman surviving on a measly teacher’s salary.

Ah, well. I do my best to make it homey, with different paintings covering the walls, some of them mine and others prints I’ve bought from friends and other artists I admire. I’ve painted the walls light green and put plants in every corner, except for the one I use as my mini art studio.

It’s definitely alright. A little crappy, but alright.

“Shit, I’m gonna be late,” I murmur to myself as I rifle through my closet. “They’re probably all already at The Hideout.”

I can’t wear my current outfit of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt to a bar, but I decide to keep it casual nonetheless, pulling out a pair of jeans and a blouse that accentuates my curvy figure. It also highlights my ample cleavage, and I tug at the fabric after slipping it on, debating about switching to another top. But I really don’t have time, and even though I sometimes feel self-conscious about my body, I really do love this blouse.

“You look fine,” I tell myself, then nod decisively at the mirror.

After slipping on some flats, I run my hands over my wild, curly red hair, then grab my phone just as I get a notification that my Uber has arrived. There’s no going back now, especially not with the exorbitant twenty-dollar ride awaiting me.

I slip out of my apartment and make my way down the rickety stairs to meet the car outside. The driver grunts a greeting to me as I slip into the back, and as we pull away from the curb, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and swipe across the screen to read the new text message.

REESE: SOS.

I roll my eyes but I can’t stop a smile from pulling at my lips. Reese always knows how to get himself into a conundrum, like the time when we were working at a summer camp and he fell into a patch of brambles that also happened to be home to several snakes—one of his worst fears, as I later found out. The shriek he released at the sight of them still lives in my memory rent free.

He sends another SOS emoji, and I quickly type a response.

ME: What did you do?

REESE: Why do you think I did something?

ME: You’re insufferable.

REESE: I told you not to use words I don’t know.

I chuckle, and the driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. I give him a shrug and return my attention to my phone.

ME: I’m serious, though. What’s up? Why the SOS? Are you okay?

REESE: Yeah, I’m fine.

REESE: Well, not exactly fine.

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