Page 71 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

He reached for the box of condoms I’d bought and tucked into the drawer of my bedside table a few days ago. He eased one on before flipping onto his back and drawing me over him, and then he was inside me again. There was nothing but this—me and him and a dark hotel room, and everything outside of this didn’t matter.

But as I drifted to sleep that night, an uneasy feeling churned in my gut. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to come from this. I just didn’t know what.

Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts @7R4BHpodcast ∙ Jul 26

https://bit.ly/6akb3o2

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Raquel O’Brien @raqyoursaqsoff ∙ Jul 26

Replying to @7R4BHpodcast

I don’t understand what happened to you guys. I really liked your message in the beginning but now it’s starting to feel like it’s all been a lie …

Jessica @messy_jessy8273 ∙ Jul 26

Replying to @7R4BHpodcast

ok but ive BEEN saying its all an act. these types of girls will do anything for attention and this is proof. its one thing to live your life however you want. its another to use someone like this just for the clicks. #Cancel7Rules

andycakes @miranda_lovee ∙ Jul 26

Replying to @7R4BHpodcast

Not even surprised. @margoanderson you disappoint but it’s whatever. Should have unfollowed a long time ago.

CHAPTER25

“I’m not sure it’s my color,” I said, turning in front of the floor-length mirror in my room for a final inspection of my bridesmaid dress. Jo had let us choose our own style so long as the color met her requirements, and I’d gone with a strappy dress with a plunging neckline and flowy, knee-length skirt. Perfect for a beach wedding. But it was the color that was bothering me: a pale robin’s-

egg blue that made me look completely washed out.

“Blue is literally everyone’s color,” Liv called from out on the balcony. She’d insisted on applying her makeup in natural lighting, so now she was squinting at the tiny mirror in her eyeshadow palette, balancing it in one hand while she applied mascara with the other. “Blue is the color of calmness. Serenity. No one looks bad in blue.”

Calmness and serenity were two emotions I was having a pretty hard time feeling right about now. My eyes were burning from lack of sleep. As much as I was trying to focus on the day ahead, I couldn’t help feeling like I was sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop. Declan had tried to reassure me before we were forced to go our separate ways this morning, but as soon as I was alone, it was like I got stuck in my head all over again.

“If they do anything to your social media, we could always—what’s it called—track their IT address,” he’d told me.

“IP address,” I’d corrected him with a fond look. “And are you sure they let you graduate with an actual degree, or did you frame up a piece of paper you printed off Google Images?”

“Mechanical engineers don’t need the internet. That’s what computer engineers are for.”

It had made me laugh at the time. Now I was feeling sick to my stomach. I was ninety-nine percent sure that tracking an IP would be completely useless in this instance. There was every chance they’d just use my cell service rather than connecting to any Wi-Fi, for one, and I didn’t know how that worked. But I was also feeling a bit desperate. I should have asked him if he worked with any computer engineers who could give us a more definitive answer.

To distract myself, I was trying to fixate on the one thing I could control. The dress. Which I actually couldn’t control at all, because this was the color Jo wanted and there was also no way I was finding another dress on this short notice. But maybe I could do something to spruce myself up. Add some blush. Put my hair up. Let my hair down. I didn’t know, something.

“You don’t think I look sort of washed out?” I asked Liv as I leaned in the doorframe that led out to the balcony. It was hazy this morning, a thin gray mist hanging over Avalon.

She paused in the middle of applying her mascara to give me an appraising look. “You’re just pale, babe. Not as pale as your man, but …” I frowned at my own arms, turning them over to check the undersides. I thought I was pretty tan, by my own standards, but maybe that was because I’d been comparing my skin to Declan’s all week. “Anyway, be thankful the dress isn’t worse,” she said. “I was in my older sister’s second wedding. Two words: baby poop yellow.”

“That’s three words,” I pointed out.

Autumn emerged from where she’d been changing in the bathroom, looking distressed. She planted her hands on the hips of her bridesmaid dress—a chic, one-shouldered number with structured pleats. “I cannot be seen like this.”

I frowned at her. The blue was a little different from her usual dark-and-earthy palette, but it didn’t look bad. “What’s wrong with it? It looks fine to me.”

“Of course it doesn’t look bad, I got one of the girls in the design program to tailor it for me.” She pointed a coffin-shaped nail at her smooth, tan calf. “The problem is that I’m bruised like a fucking banana. I bumped it on the corner of my chair last night.”