Page 3 of Pastel Kisses
“Not recently, at least,” I correct, shaking my head. “I’ve texted her all the sappy shit I’ve been thinking. Didn’t exactly feel the need to leave a handwritten love letter.”
Kam exhales sharply, staring at the elevator doors like they’ve personally offended him. “So, if none of us sent her flowers, and none of us left her any notes…” His voice trails off, the unspoken question heavy in the air.
Lennox is the first to say what we’re all thinking. “Then who the fuck did?”
The elevator dings, doors sliding open onto our floor, but none of us move.
Avery’s words echo in my mind,You have all made me feel so special since day one.
Whoever sent those flowers knew exactly how to make it seem like they were from us. Knew her well enough to mimic somethingwewould do.
And that thought chills me to my core.
"Let's find out."
I type out a quick text, my thumbs moving faster than my thoughts.
Me:Kitten, what do you mean? Did you just get flowers from us?
The message sends, and we all stare at our phones, waiting for those three little dots to pop up. Nothing.
A minute passes. Then two.
Liam shifts on his feet, rubbing his jaw. "Maybe she’s in the shower?"
Kam nods, but his expression is tight. "Maybe."
Five minutes. Still nothing.
Lennox exhales sharply and pulls out his phone. "I’m calling her."
We all stand in tense silence as her line rings, the sound blaring on speaker. No answer.
Liam’s already dialing her next. Kam follows. I text her again.
Me:Kitten, call me. Now.
Ten minutes.
“Okay, this is bullshit,” Liam snaps, running a hand through his hair. “She just texted us minutes ago. There’s no way she wouldn’t hear all of us blowing up her phone.”
My pulse kicks up, unease crawling beneath my skin like something sharp and needling.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Kam says, but even he doesn’t sound convinced. “She said she was tired. Maybe she passed out.”
"Then her phone should still ring," Lennox points out, jaw clenching.
None of us speak for a second, the realization settling over us like a suffocating fog.
Avery wouldn’t ignore us.
She wouldn’t turn her phone off.
Something isn’t right.
Without another word, I turn on my heel, already heading toward the door. "We’re going over there."
No one argues.
