Page 39 of XO Karma

She exits the break room, and Diego returns his attention to me. “Wanna join? It’s invite only, but I’m sure I can get a plus one. The sculptor who’s featured is world-renowned. Their pieces are worth millions.”

I weigh the options in my head. Listening to old records from the comfort of my own home while I finish painting the gnomes I’ve been working on, or go peruse a stuffy art exhibit. “I’m good.”

“It’s at the Westerford mansion out in Blackridge Forest,” he reminds me as if that should sweeten the deal.

My brows draw together. “So what you’re telling me is we have to drive half an hour outside of the city to attend a stuffy event full of rich, snobby assholes, all outbidding each other for some hunk of glass?”

“She actually makes art out of taxidermy animals, but basically, yeah.”

My eyes fly to his. “What?”

He laughs. “That was my reaction too.”

“Think I’ll pass,” I reply, heading to our desks, hiding the grimace from the other gift Lily left on my thigh. That, too, is mostly healed, but it still gives me a little sting every now and again if I move the wrong way.

“I’ll take you to Dahlia’s after.”

“Or, I can go to the diner without you, still get my milkshake, and skip the small talk altogether.”

“Dude, you need to get out,” he implores. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

I grab a pen, chucking it at him, and he dodges. “Probably more recently than you.”

That’s a lie. It’s been so damn long I almost came in my pants listening to Lily masturbate a few weeks ago. Great. Now I’m hard.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” He grabs a sticky note, draws a doodle, then slaps it on my monitor. Two smiling stick figures standing side by side taunt me.

“What the hell is that supposed to be?”

“Us at the gala. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

And a distraction, which apparently, I desperately need. Because if I don’t go tonight, the way my mind is wandering, I’ll end up at Lily’s house instead.

Would I hide in her closet again?

Throw rocks at her bedroom window like one of those old rom-coms?

Maybe I should sneak in wearing my Grim mask and wake her while she’s sleeping. See if she’s terrified or turned on… or both.

“What are you thinking about?” Diego asks, brow quirked.

My eyes meet his. “I’ll be there.”

My phone buzzes on my desk as he heads to his. I glance at the notification, chest constricting.

Dad

Call me.

We haven’t spoken in nearly two years, and that’s the message he sends? I’d rather drink battery acid and shit it out than have a single conversation with my father. He’s selfish, controlling, manipulative, and doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Fumbling around on the keypad, I change the contact name, then return to the text thread.

Gregory

Call me.

Me

We’re sorry. This number has been disconnected.