Page 55 of Glitched Play

Good. But she’s mine so none of them better come around offering her more money.

But it does please me.

I spend the next three hours attempting to work and failing at a statistically embarrassing rate.

My cursor blinks on an unfinished email. I check the foundation speech, the launch projections, the event security details.

Then the guest list pops into my email, and I have never opened a guest list in my life because I don’t care.

I open it anyway because evidently I do care—this time.

My name sits near the top.

Witt O’Ryan — no guest.

Correct.

Then I scroll.

Maci Hart — two guests.

My hand stills on the mouse.

Guest One: Tyler Hart.

Guest Two: Chase Bennett.

I stare at the name.

Chase Bennett.

There is no reason for the name to irritate me.

None.

I know almost nothing about him except that he calls her, makes her laugh, helped her pack, and apparently attends black-tie events with her.

That is more than nothing.

Still irrelevant.

I close the guest list.

Then reopen it.

The name remains.

Chase Bennett.

An unfamiliar sensation presses under my sternum, sharp and unwelcome. I wouldn’t call it jealousy although I have no idea what that feels like, not ever having been jealous before.

Jealousy implies emotional investment.

This is data.

Maci Hart is bringing Chase Bennett to the gala.

That is all.