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“Hi.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah sure,” I said bitterly. “I was just… uh… adjusting my phone.”
I tried to crack a smile, and she helped with one of her own. Bending to retrieve my phone, she entered the room and bounced down on the bed next to me.
“The screen’s cracked,” she said hesitantly. “But I think it still works.”
Tiny shards of glass flaked away as she ran her finger over the screen. All of a sudden she jerked her hand back in pain.
“Oww!”
Before either of us could react she jammed her finger into her mouth and began sucking it. I felt terrible as I took her by the wrist.
“Here, let me see…”
There was a tiny cut along the pad of her finger. Nothing too bad. Glancing up I reached out and swiped a tiny droplet of blood from her lower lip with my thumb. She had really great lips.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “That was my fault. I’m an asshole.”
“No you’re not.” She smiled again, holding her finger tight against her thumb. “Seems like the person you were talking to is the real asshole.”
I didn’t say a word. There really wasn’t anything to say.
“That was Holly, wasn’t it?”
I shook my head. “No,” I sighed. “It’s worse. Much worse.”
I felt dumb. Like a total loser. I should’ve lied, or made something up, or said it was really none of her business.
I told her anyway.
“That was me going on Holly’s Instagram account, and looking at photos of her and Derrick.”
She should’ve recoiled. Or laughed. Or punched me in the arm and told me I was an idiot. Instead Claudia only slipped an arm over my shoulder and pulled our heads together.
“I’m sorry honey.”
“Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. “My fault though. I punish myself, every time I look. But I can’t stop looking. I can’t stop—”
“Why don’t you just unfollow her?”
Because it would be too final, I wanted to say. Because it would be like losing the last piece I still have of her.
“I don’t know. Probably because I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“I know you two dated a long time,” said Claudia. “Was she like… your first girlfriend or something?”
I nodded. Holly and I were high school sweethearts. Shit, junior-high sweethearts. All the way up until last year.
“And how many lucky rebounds have you plowed through since the breakup?” she asked, trying to cheer me up.
Claudia’s hair fell over her face sexily, without trying to be sexy. She brushed it back so that her eyes met mine. I wanted to lie to her. I couldn’t.
“Zero.”
