I opened my messages again. Nope, I hadn’t hallucinated. It was still there.
“No. No. NO.” I dry heaved, clutching the cupboard, trying to keep the room from spinning.
“Nora, now may be a good time to tell you I didn’t finish that first aid course, so please don’t die, okay?”
I wobbled to the doorframe. “You remember the selfie we took?” My voice sounded distant, hollow, teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
Otis grinned at me from across the room. “You mean after I got Fatale to kiss me?” His brows jiggled.
“Yeah, that one.” Vertigo hit me. The room seemed to shrink. “I sent it.”
Otis placed his elbow on the bed and a hand under his chin. His hair sticking out in every direction. “As you should. We looked amazing. Or so I think.” He pursed his lips as if pondering our life choices.?
I placed the phone on the kitchen counter, not daring to touch it. Staring. Staring at the message.?
“Who was the lucky receiver?”?
The picture glared back at me. Smudged porno lips. Dark eyeliner on half-closed lids. The slinky black dress I still wore with its deep V that hugged my curves so well. Golden glitter on my cleavage accentuated my winding rose vines. My leopard coat loosely hung over my shoulders and Otis was…licking my ear.?
“You look like you’ve just seen the uncut version of the human centipede.”
I swallowed my panic. “John.”
“John who?” Otis sat up straighter.?
I turned to face him fully.?
Otis’s face went slack. It took him three full seconds. It was almost comical how his expression fell as his mouth hung open. “NO.”
“Yes. I sent the skankiest pic of the year to New York Times bestselling author John Kater.”
Otis pressed his fist to his mouth. “Did he respond?”
“No. He probably thinks I did it on purpose.”
Otis folded his arms under his head. “Well, did you?”
“For the love of musical theater, Otis. I thought you were on my side.” I pressed my knuckles into my eye sockets, trying to piece together last night. We’d gotten home. Otis had slipped on the stairs. I remembered sitting on my bed, angry at John, then—sweet, sweet revenge. I had found his number in my phone after he’d called himself.
I hit my head repeatedly against the doorframe. I was a giant idiot. Now he knew I was thinking about him.
Otis flapped his hands in the air. “Wait! See if you can hit unsend.”
“That’s a thing?” Hope sparked in my chest as I held my phone between my fingertips, praying it wouldn’t betray me again and send him a nude selfie next.
I tapped the three small dots in the corners and hit “unsend to all.” I exhaled, relieved as the picture disappeared. Almost collapsing on the floor.
Then… I screamed, throwing my phone across the room.
Otis ducked as it sailed over his head. “What the?—?”
“He’s typing.” I screeched, pointing at my phone.
“You’re so screwed.”
“Thanks for the pep talk. Do something!”
“Do what?”
