“Big family,” he muses.
“Yeah.” I chuckle dryly. “Always the ones who shouldn’t have kids that end up having too many.”
Whit laughs softly as if he’s relating to what I said. “Don’t I know it — I grew up in Pecket, shitty parents were the norm for most of us.”
I fall silent, studying Whit as I pick at the label of my beer.
“What?” he asks casually.
“You grew up in Pecket?”
His laugh is slightly dejected this time. “Unfortunately. Born and raised.”
“Me too.”
Whit’s eyebrows raise in surprise. We share a look that only people forced to grow up in the city’s poorest and most dangerous neighborhood could ever understand. I’m suddenly put at ease, less guarded, as if we instantly share an unspoken history even though we just met a few months ago. Whit raises his beer and grins.
“To surviving that shithole.”
I’m homefrom the bar, watching TV with Sophia. DK is purring on my lap as I pick at my lip, staring at my phone, lost in thought. It’s the third time I’ve watched Connie’s stories today and I’ll probably have watched them a fourth time by the time I fall asleep tonight.
A picture of her coffee. Another of the cast rehearsing. Then a selfie. She took it during golden hour. The sun’s rayslook gold against her flaming hair, her hazel eyes almost green against the sunlight. I hold my finger on the screen, lingering on the picture.
“Is thatConnie?”
I lock my phone and throw it across the couch as I hear Sophia’s voice over my shoulder. Like a fucking idiot, I didn’t realize she was behind me coming back from the kitchen.
“No,” I say with a somewhat guilty scowl.
She snickers as she sits on the floor, resting against the couch. “That was totally Connie.” She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “I didn’t even know you followed her.”
“Mind your fucking business,” I mutter.
My threat falls on deaf ears as she continues to laugh. “You know people can see who watches their stories, right?”
My heart drops, still, I choose not to believe her.
I shove her head. “Sure they can, idiot.”
“They do,” she presses, still bleating like a fucking goat. “Look.” She grabs her phone, and pulls up her stories on Instagram, then swipes up. “See?”
To my horror, a list of profiles appears. I want to dig my own grave and throw myself into it at the realization that Connie has known I watched her stories thiswholetime. Worst of all, I don’t even follow her.
Real fucking slick. That’s what I get for being nosy—shit, am I sweating?
Sophia chortles at the sight of my shocked face. “Don’t worry she can’t see how many times you watch them at least. You’d know this if you posted on your stories like a normal person.”
I fall deeper into the couch, dragging my hand over my face and sigh. “‘Cause you’re a normal person?”
“More normal than you, weirdo,” she answers through a mouthful of popcorn. She falls silent while she chews. Thenabruptly changes the subject. “I haven’t seen Selina around in a while, you guys still dating?”
I roll my eyes at her prying. She’s not being subtle but I answer her anyway.
“We were never dating in the first place.”
“So that’s ano,then.”
I give DK a little scratch on the head before answering. The last time I spoke to Selina was the night of the cast party last week. I don’t owe anything to Connie, but after our little face-off on the balcony, I felt weird continuing to sleep with Selina. I broke it off with her that same night and went home alone. Her ego was bruised, but I’m not worried about her. I was just something to pass the time with, she’ll soon forget all about me. They all do.
