Page 73 of Her Wicked Plan

I rinse myself clean, staying in the water for way too long before it turns cold. Once I'm out, I wrap a towel around my waist. My hands grip the sink, and I stare at my distorted reflection in the steam-covered mirror. Who the hell is this man staring back at me?

My phone sounds from the other room ripping my focus away from the person in the mirror who is supposed to be me. As I approach the bed, I see the screen lit up with Myles’ name.

My hands are still on my hips while I ignore the call. I’ve never been able to hide anything from him.

A couple more rings, and it stops. A sigh of relief left me, thinking I was in the clear.

Wrong.

He is calling me again.

I groan but pick up the phone. “Hey, man.”

“Leo!” He beams through the phone. “How the hell are you?”

“I... uh... I’m good.” His slurred words throw me off a little. “Are you drunk?”

“What? No! It’s too early for that,” he answers. “Okay, I had one or two, maybe four drinks at lunch with some guys from work. I’m tipsy at best.”

“And then you have to go back to work?” I question while I walk over to the dresser to find clothes.

“Nah, we had an early day, which was a reason to celebrate with drinks.” He hiccups before continuing. “Tell me how the past couple of days have been! You haven’t texted or called.”

“I've been busy.” I take the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker before setting it on the dresser.

“Busy? You have one patient who you see how often?” He asks as I step into a pair of joggers and slide a crewneck over my head.

“It’s been twice a week, but I have to change the schedule to make more time for her,” I disclose.

“Wait! Miss your fucking face!” He hangs up quickly, and in just one second, I get a FaceTime call from him. When I answer, he is sitting on the couch in our living room. God, I miss the apartment. “Ah, there he is!”

“Here I am.” I shake my head with a laugh at the state of my drunken friend.

“Back to what we were talking about. Why do you have to make more time for her? She that much of a psycho?” I hear the crinkle of a bag of chips off the screen, and I watch him shove a handful of Doritos into his mouth.

“Um, yeah.” I keep my answer short. My hand finds the back of my neck and attempts to rub the knots out.

He furrows his brows, mouth full of chips. “What are you not telling me?”

“What?”

“You’re hiding something. What is it?” He pushes.

“I’m not hiding anything, Myles. You’re just drunk and reading into things.” This isn’t going well.

“Did you fuck her?” His voice is loud and full of excitement.

“Jesus, Myles!” I drop the phone down a little and look over to my door. Listening for anyone in the hall, but thankfully, it’s silent. “Can you lower your fucking voice?”

“You did, didn’t you?” He smugly grins.

“No, I didn’t! And you can’t just say shit like that out loud. What if someone walked past my room and heard you?”

“Sorry! Got excited for a moment.” He shrugs with a drunken giggle. “I don’t believe you, though.”

“Why?” I ask, resting my elbows on my knees. I should have never gotten on FaceTime with him.

“Because the look on your face tells me otherwise.” He shoves another chip in his mouth and speaks with a mouth full of food. “You know damn well you can’t hide shit from me, so spill.”