My phone buzzes from the side of the mat. “Give me a second,” I say, relieved for any excuse to get out of this lift. I can’t let Leo’s flirting throw me like this, or we’ll never make any progress.
Delilah
When are you coming home? I think your faucet is on.
I frown, trying to remember if I used the kitchen faucet before I left. It’s the only one Delilah could possibly hear from the other side of her wall.
“Something wrong?” Leo asks, reading my face.
“Just my neighbor,” I say.
“The one with the swearing bird?” he asks. “Everything all right?” Leo’s brow creases, and for a second, it almost seems like he cares.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “But I need to cut out of practice early today.”
“You have plans for New Year’s Eve?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I glance over at him, wondering if he’s just curious, or he thinks I have a date. “Just watching the ball drop on TV. And no,I don’t have a date, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.” It comes out sounding a little more harsh than I intended, and his eyes immediately shutter, like I’ve just hit a switch.
“I wasn’t asking if you had a date. It’s none of my business what you do in your free time,” he adds, sounding like a grizzly again. “I know your parents like to throw big parties. I figured you’d be spending it with them.”
I shake my head. “Not this year.” I don’t tell him how I spent Christmas Day parked in front of my parents’ fireplace, pretending everything in my life was perfectly fine while avoiding their questions about my career. I didn’t mention that I’ve been keeping my heat off or how worried I am that I won’t be able to pay next month’s bills. Instead, I nodded along through my mother’s annual crown roast dinner, hired chef and all, and tried to act grateful for the cashmere sweater I didn’t need while quietly yearning for a space heater.
Living on my own has been the best decision I’ve ever made, but it’s also the hardest. Doing things my mom’s way made me miserable—the constant pressure, the negative comments, how I never measured up to my older sister. I have to do this on my terms now, because it’s not just about winning anymore.
“Well, then, happy New Year,” he says, looking like he’s debating whether to say something else. For a moment, I wonder if he’s about to suggest doing something together, but that thought disappears when I see his scowl. We’re not those people anymore. I broke up with him, and that wall between us has been firmly in place ever since. He can barely tolerate practicing with me now, let alone consider anything involving friendship.
“You too,” I say, grabbing my bag and leaving before I break down and ask him about his plans. He probably has a date I don’t want to know about. Guys like him always do—whereas I’m planning on heading to Delilah’s and letting Big Bertha shoutinsults at me. At least the bird won’t judge me for eating ice cream straight out of the carton.
I head to my car, feeling my phone buzz in my pocket again.
Rourke
Wondered if you had plans for tonight? Jaz and Sloan are having a party and asked me to invite you.
I smile at the text, and realize that if Rourke is going to the party, Leo probably is too. I could find out firsthand if he has a date for the evening and see how he behaves when he’s on his best behavior.
Victoria
I’d love to!
But first, I need to take care of my faucet.
When I reach my apartment, I rush up the stairs and stop at Delilah’s apartment to tell her I won’t be around tonight, only to hear the unmistakable sound of rushing water coming from my apartment. When I step inside, my heart sinks. Water is gushing from the cabinet under the sink, flooding the kitchen and living room. I drop my bag and rush to open the cabinet. A burst pipe is shooting water like a sprinkler.
Panic sets in as I throw towels on the floor, but it’s like tossing a bath towel in the ocean—totally useless. I grab my phone to call the landlord, but his voicemail explains he’s gone for the holidays.
Frantically, I search for a plumber, dialing number after number. Most don’t answer—it’s New Year’s Eve, after all—but one finally picks up. Relief washes over me until he tells me he can’t get here for another three hours and, quite possibly, not until after the holiday. Meanwhile, water is soaking intothe living room carpet, creeping toward every inch of my tiny apartment.
“Sounds like you had a frozen pipe that burst,” the plumber says. “You can shut off the water supply until I get there. How bad is the damage?”
I slosh through the water, shivering from my wet, cold feet. Even my bedroom is wet. “Well, there’s water everywhere.”
“Then you’d better find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” he advises. “This isn’t a quick fix.”
I hang up, staring at the mess. All I can think of is how fitting it is to end the year this way—stuck with my ex, while I’m just trying to survive.
TEN
