Page 17 of House of Scarlett
Somehow, the phone finds its way into my hand, and the text window is open to his name. I scroll back and read through some of our messages before that awful night.
Scarlett: How can you not have a favorite color? Everyone has a favorite color.
Gabriel: I don’t know ... I never thought about it. I don’t like orange, though.
Scarlett: Well, if I had to guess, I’d say your favorite color is black.
Gabriel: Is black even technically a color? I think you’re breaking rules.
Scarlett: I figured you’d approve of me breaking rules.
I cringe at my past attempt to get him to realize that I’d like to break rules with him.So smooth, Scarlett. But he didn’t miss a beat.
Gabriel: Leave the rule breaking to me, ladybug. I’m better at it.
My inner muscles clench with a rush of heat between my legs.Why can’t he break his own rules with me?
I scroll down to the bottom and read the last text he ever sent me.
Gabriel: I can’t wait to see you tonight. Been looking forward to it all day.
Why couldn’t he have sent that today? Stuck in midday Manhattan traffic, I let myself daydream, imagining what it would be like to get messages from Gabriel like that every day for the rest of my life.
A different kind of warmth wraps around me. The kind I felt every time my phone would buzz with a text from him, and I’d rush to see what he’d said.
We aren’t that different, Gabriel. Bump said I made you smile.Why can’t this work?
I’ve never takennowell, and especially not in a situation like this, where I think the other party’s reasoning is completely flawed.
Why can’t Gabriel Legend have me? Not a single rational reason comes to mind. What could he possibly be thinking?
I stare down at the blinking cursor in the text box on my phone screen and compose a message in my head. After a few minutes, my thumbs move, making the words appear on the screen.
Scarlett:I really hate not talking to you.
No. Stop, Scarlett.I tap the backspace key until it disappears. Then I try again.
Scarlett:Do you need me to come to the club Friday or Saturday night? I’m free.
No. Definitely not that. Just as bad.
Scarlett:Talk to me.
Scarlett:I miss you.
Scarlett:You can’t give me the best sex of my life and then take it away.
No, definitely not that either.
Before I realize it, the cab slows at the curb in front of Curated, and I haven’t sent a single message to him. I suppose that’s probably a good thing, because as soon as I walk inside, I have to sprint upstairs to my bathroom before I puke my guts up all over the store.
Nine
Legend
I feel like hell,look like hell, and I haven’t showered in two days. Shout-out to all the other people who are embracing themselves despite everything going sideways. You’re a queen. Just remember, there’s nothing wrong with lounging in your PJs all day and eating Nutella from the jar. I support you. #LifeIsMessy #EmbraceTheMess #LoveTheMess
I read the caption of the photo over again before staring at the picture of Scarlett on her bed in pajama pants and a sweatshirt three sizes too big. Her hair is caught up in a messy bun and glasses perch on her nose. She doesn’t look like hell, though. She looks beautiful. But why does she feel like hell?
