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If there was such a thing as karma, she would’ve ripped my balls off my body right then and played Ping-Pong.
I’m a terrible friend.
Xavier Emery has done nothing but put out fires in my life since we were kids, and in return, I betrayed his trust in the worst way possible. One of those days, I’ll come clean. Tell him the truth and let the chips fall where they may.
But for now, I need him.
I need him to be my conscience—since the only person who’s ever managed to calm me down is currently ghosting my ass—and stop me if things go too far. If I find out the motherfucker is responsible for Lexie’s death, I won’t be able to stop myself from killing him.
That’s where Xavier comes in.
The drive to the abandoned theater is a quiet one. We barely exchange glances, worst-case scenarios thrumming through my system. We park in the back alley behind the run-down theater and wait for the scumbag to show his face.
I alternate between bouncing my leg nervously and checking my phone every five seconds, hoping Dia might show me some fucking mercy and send me a text.
It doesn’t have to be a novel. I’ll take anything. She can tell me to fuck off for all I care.
As long as she texts me.
Jesus, I’m such a pussy.
Xav lets out a scoff. “Fuck me, Theo was right.”
I look up from my phone.
I don’t even get the chance to ask him what he smoked before he adds, “Dude, just call her already.”
Wait, Theo told him about me and Dia?
Jesus, am I the only person on this goddamn planet that didn’t know I had it bad for Diamond Mitchell?
“Call who?” I act clueless.
I knew from the moment Lexie left us that I didn’t have the strength to push Dia away anymore, but admitting that I’m whipped to myself and admitting it to my friends are two very different things.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Give it to me.” Xav huffs and reaches over to my side. He’s grabbed my phone before I can react.
At first, I think he’s messing with me.
Until he holds up the phone and presses the Call button.
Shit.
“You bastard.” I climb over the center console to try and steal my phone back. Xavier dodges my arm, wrestling me for a bit before putting the phone on speaker and smothering a laugh.
“It’s ringing.” He turns up the volume.
And he’s right.
It does ring.
But just once.
Then it’s straight to voicemail. The automated answering machine informs us that Dia hasn’t recorded her outgoing message yet. The loud beep cuts through the air, and I’ve pissed off enough girls in my life to know what this “one ring” bullshit means.
She blocked me.
And, judging by the nauseating look of pity on my best friend’s face, he knows it, too. I’m quick to jerk the phone out of Xavier’s hands and hang up.
