I go back and try to scroll my newsfeed, but I keep seeing that picture because everybody is sharing it.Is this Chris’ new girlfriend? Oh, she’s so pretty. Super cute couple.I roll my eyes at each stupid comment. So, I basically sit here and stare at it until my legs go numb and then, I drop the phone to the floor. Cobain jumps. I flush the toilet, spritz some cologne on me, and grab his leash. “Come on, fucker. We’re going for a walk.”
On the way to Marisa’s apartment, Amy texts me again. God, she’s annoying. I quickly assign her that awful foghorn alert so I’ll know to just ignore it, then shove my phone back in my pocket. A kid comes barreling down the sidewalk on a skateboard and nearly runs me over.
“Watch it you, little shit,” I shout, turning to glare at him. He tosses a glance over his shoulder and flips me the bird.
Just as I reach the sidewalk leading to her apartment building, Marisa steps out of the front door in jeans and a tight t-shirt—a Gremlins t-shirt.God, we are so alike.She pauses on the bottom step for a second. A nervous smile crosses her face. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
She hops off the bottom step and pats Cobain on the head. “You going to the coffee shop?” she asks.
“Nah, I was coming to see you.”
“Oh... ”
“You staying with me this weekend?” I ask. Her eyes narrow. Her brow wrinkles. Ah, come on now, this girl can’t possibly be confused. “South Beach? The signing I got you a table at?”
“I got my own room” she says, walking off. I follow after her.
“What? Why?”
“Because... I needed a room.”
“Jesus, woman,” I shake my head. “I told you to stay with me.”
She stops and I almost walk into her. Cobain keeps going, yanking on his leash and nearly knocking my off balance. “Justin,” she says, “I just don’t know how I feel about you.”
“What?” I shrug and grab her arm. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She yanks out of my grip. “Look, I’m trying to start a writing career and I just... ” her eyes fall to the ground and she scuffs the toe of her Converse over the crack in the sidewalk. “I just, you know, don’t needthatreputation.”
“I’m sorry,” I scoff. “Thatreputation?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to be lumped into the category with the rest of your friends you’ve fucked.”
“Oh my god.”
“Sorry. I just need to get my head on straight, okay?” She sighs and that pretty face of hers goes all soft. “I thought you were different.” And then she turns and walks off.
I glance around, but no one’s there. Cobain’s sniffing a half-eaten hotdog laying in the gutter. And I am actually at a loss as I watch her head down the sidewalk, hips swaying. The last girl that straight up ditched me was Meredith.
Marisa disappears in the crowd heading toward the subway, and all I can think is that fucking Chris Talon had a hand in this. But that’s okay, because I don’t give up that easy, and besides, I’m a better man than he could ever hope to be.
That damn foghorn blares from my pocket. Groaning, I pull my phone out and read over the text:
Hey you! Didn’t you say you would be in South Beach this weekend? I’m going to be down there visiting my fam. Would love to come by your book signing and see what it’s about. <3
And so there is a god...
