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A cry cuts through the quiet suite, along with rhythmic thumps.
Someone in here isn’t heartbroken.
I hurry into my room. It’s either Biba and David or Fiona and…someone…and I don’t feel like dwelling on who it might be. Not now. Not when—
I feel my phone vibrate in my bag. Thinking it might be Chrissa, hoping it is, I pull it out.
Justin.
Tears threatening, I take the call. “You need to listen to me,” he says as a greeting.
“I don’t need to do anything for you,” I retort, trying to steady my voice into a more Chrissa-like tone. I sink onto the bed, forgetting about getting all of my things as well as Chrissa’s into bags and down to the lobby.
“Don’t be stupid, Demi.”
“I can be whatever I want,” I snap. That might not be the best comeback. I wish Chrissa was here! Or Biba. Justin has been my world for four years and it’s confusing to decipher whether he’s still Mr. Right; my perfect guy who supports and counsels and guides, and tells me I’m beautiful just the way I am.
But that yoga brings out a glow and really makes my body a work of art. He's always liked that I practice yoga. How can he be a bad person?
But tonight…
Is he, like Chrissa said, the wrong guy for me?
After what happened tonight, I’m just not sure.
