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Chapter Fourteen
Abel
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Thank you for the bestnight of my life.
My eyes scan the note Finley left in the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time before dropping the notepad back onto the counter.
I have to be at Trolley House in less than an hour and I still haven’t even taken a shower. I need to snap my ass into gear and get a move on, but I find my motivation lacking today.
I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t get that much sleep or because I’m too busy obsessing over being ghosted for the first time in my life.
I’ve done it to people before–snuck out after a wild night to avoid the awkward next morning. But those were always one night. I knew it. She knew it. There was never any reason to delay the inevitable. But Finley? I don’t know. I guess I thought she was more.
Clearly she didn’t agree. If she did she wouldn’t have snuck out while I slept with nothing more than this fucking note. If she had left her phone number at least then I would know that she wanted to see me again. But this? This feels like the ultimate blow off.
Thanks for the best night of my life, but I never want to see you again. Hence why I intentionally didn’t tell you where I live, where I work, and made no attempt to exchange phone numbers with you. Oh, and let’s really add insult to injury and not tell you my last name either, so there’s no way in hell you can track me down.
“Fuck,” I grumble, running a hand through my hair as I stare down at the note.
I’ve never met anyone like Finley before. I’ve also never read a situation quite so wrong, either. Usually I have a pretty good grasp on where people stand, but with her? It was like trying to piece together a puzzle with several missing pieces.
But even still, I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect to wake up to an empty apartment and a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can’t seem to shake.
My phone buzzes to life on the counter, offering me a much needed distraction. I look down to see my buddy, Nick’s number flash across the screen.
“Hey. What’s up?” I answer the phone the way I always do.
“Hey. What do you have going on tonight? Me and some of the guys were thinking about heading down to Sven’s for the evening. You interested?”
Sven is a mutual friend of ours. He comes from a very wealthy family and spends most of his days lounging by the indoor pool or hosting extravagant parties at his parents’ lake house a few miles outside of the city. He’s an okay guy–a little arrogant, but okay. He attended college with my brother, Alex which is how we all met.
“Wish I could, but I’ve got a gig tonight at Trolley House. Gotta make a living somehow.”
“Lame.”
“Yeah, well, not all of us can be lucky enough to develop some stupid app, then sit back and watch the money roll in.”
“I worked on that stupid app for four years. I deserve to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”
“Not saying you don’t.” I chuckle. “Tell Sven and the guys I said hi, would ya?”
“You got it.”
“Hey, Nick.” I stop him right before he hangs up; having a sudden thought hit me seemingly out of nowhere.
“Yeah?”
“You still have that friend that does PI work?”
“Chuck. Yeah, why?”
“How much do you think he’d charge me to find someone? A girl I met.”
“Decided to take up stalking as a hobby?”
“She stayed the night last night, but when I woke up this morning she was gone. I didn’t get her number before she left,” I continue without acknowledging his stalker comment.
