Page 22 of Corrupted Bride

“Yeah, whatever. Then casually ask if she wants to hang out in person sometime.”

“What if she says no?”

“She won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“She spends time with you already in that game, right?”

“I mean, nobody else plays.”

I give him a flat stare. “You know that isn’t true.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe.” He leans back on his elbows and sighs. “It’s gonna be real pathetic if she rejects me, dude.”

“And it’ll be even worse if you’re too much of a coward to try. You can do this. You’re a catch.”

“Says my big sister.”

I punch him lightly on the shoulder. “And your biggest fan.”

Cruz hangs out for a few minutes longer before disappearing back into his room. I linger in the silence that follows, fear and uncertainty fluttering around in my stomach.

The fucked-up part is I did exactly what I told him to do last week, and I regretted it.

I close my eyes. I can still see Bass looking at me with that cold glare, like I was an annoying gnat.

He closed the door right in my face.

And I’ve never felt so pathetic in my life.

Do I really want Cruz to go through the same thing?

Maybe. Yes, no, I don’t know. Of course I don’t—but I also know he has to try.

Anyway, Bass is an asshole, and it’s better this way.

We had one night and that was the end of it. No matter what he says, what I think, what I want⁠—

It’s never happening again.

Because soon, I’ll be gone.

I shimmy under my bed and put the duffel into its hiding place. In the dusty quiet, I resolve to double down on my efforts. I have to get out of here, and I have to do it before I lose my nerve.

Cruz will be hurt, but I won’t ghost him. I’ll call as often as I can and maybe one day I can even visit.

We’ll never have the same relationship, but in the long run, it’ll be for the best.

The next night at work, I march straight back to the kitchen.

It’s a busy Sunday evening. The restaurant’s got a surprising number of full tables. Food smells, shouts, spices, curses in Spanish. I find Hector at his station and he barely looks up.

“What’s good, gordo? I got what you needed.”

“Not a great time, flaca. We’re fucking slammed.”

“Don’t worry about that.” I slip a bundle of cash into Hector’s apron. “That’s the last of it.”