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“It’s not a game. It’s life,” Bastian says with a smile. “Are you dating anyone now?”
Emory shakes his head. “Not at the moment.”
Bastian nods as if that was some insightful revelation. “Is there any reason why?”
Emory’s mouth opens like he’s about to say something and then his brows furrow and he draws in a deep breath and shakes his head. “No reason.”
Though I’ve been avoiding him as much as possible, I can’t help but look over. The second I do, he catches my eye and smirks. I swallow and turn my attention back to the empty pizza plate in front of me.
“Okay.” Bastian writes in his notebook, his expression bored. “Thank you for sharing with the group. It’s your turn, Isla.”
“Yay,” I say sarcastically and Trish chuckles under her breath. Bastian ignores us.
“So you cleared your Facebook … tell us more. How are you feeling? What are you doing with your time now that you’re moving on from sulking about Nate?”
I draw in a deep breath as I think. “Well … I destroyed my room. I took out every gift he’d ever given me and everything that reminded me of him. Now it looks like I live in an empty dorm room, but at least there’s no more memories of the last four years to make my heart hurt.”
“That’s excellent,” Bastian says, writing in his notebook. “And you’ve still avoided all communication with him?”
I nod, pressing my lips together. “But that’s not hard anymore. I don’t want to talk to him now that he has a new girlfriend. I’m not about to become the pathetic crazy ex-girlfriend.”
My phone buzzes from the corner of the desk, and since it’s against the rules for the Break Up Support Group, I know it’d be incredibly rude to check it. “Sorry,” I say, grabbing my phone and shoving it into the back pocket of my jeans. It buzzes again immediately after it’s in my pocket and I feel my cheeks redden.
Emory takes his phone out, peering at the screen. “Do you have the weather app, too?” he asks, watching his phone. “Looks like there’s a chance of rain tomorrow morning.”
“No, I don’t have the weather app,” I snap. “I’m not a retired old man.”
Trish snorts and Bastian flips to a new page in his notebook. “We don’t have time to get off topic,” he says, checking his watch and then writing something on the new page. “There’s only seven minutes left in lunch. But yeah, who uses weather apps? Just look outside if you want to know the weather.” Bastian shakes his head, and Emory gives him the finger.
“Exactly,” Ciara says. “My dad is almost retired, and he uses a weather app.” Her eyes light up, and she gasps. “Maybe that’s why Emory sucks at dating. He has the personality of a retired elderly man.”
“That’s it!” I say quickly, snapping my fingers. “I think we’ve solved Emory’s problem. To save time, he should probably start attending the support group at that retirement home down the road.”
The group laughs, and I glance over at Emory. He turns toward me with a seductive smile that seems to make time come to a complete stop. He watches me like he’s thinking up a creative form of payback for my jab at him. He reaches over and shoves my arm, a playful gesture that sends chills up my skin.
“Joke’s on you guys,” he says, glancing over the group. “When the next massive hurricane blows through Texas, guess who will just keep that information to himself?” He shakes his phone as if it holds all the secrets in the world. “This app will save my life, and you’ll all be ghosts, wishing you had paid attention to Mother Nature like I do.”
“September is over and so is hurricane season,” Ciara says, moving her head from side to side. “So no one cares, Emory.”
“Ooooooh!” Xavier says into his fist.
“Okay, okay,” Bastian says, holding out his arms like the band conductor. “Let’s get back on topic.” My phone buzzes yet again from my back pocket, and Bastian looks at me, lifting an eyebrow. “Since it’s still your turn to share your progress with the group, Isla, maybe you’d like to share why your phone is blowing up?”
“Sorry,” I say, shrinking into my desk chair. I take out my phone. “Let me just put it on silent.”
“Not before you tell us if those are messages from Nate,” he says, holding his pen poised over the notebook as if he’s anticipating the need to write about this incident.
I shake my head, looking over the four new messages from Tess and one from Kaylee. “Not Nate. Just friends from my old school.”
“Have you shared your progress with them?” Bastian asks.
I shrug. “A little. I didn’t tell them how badly I was heartbroken if that’s what you mean. So there’s really no reason to tell them that I’m doing better.”
“What do they want?” Ciara asks, leaning forward in her chair as if that’ll help her see across the circle to where my phone rests in my hand. “Because I’m your best friend now,” she says, tossing me a wink. “Bitches can step off.”
I smile, wishing I could tell her how she’s been more of a friend to me in the last two weeks than my old friends have been for the last few years, but I’m not about to get that sappy in front of the entire group. Being in this circle of broken-hearted people (plus Emory) is already like slicing open my chest and placing my insecurities and heartache out on a pedestal for
everyone to see.
