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I hang up, tossing my phone on the bed.
Maybe he’s in the bathroom. Maybe he’s already asleep.
He’ll see I called in the morning.
Maybe he’ll call back.
Or maybe he won’t.
Shit.
I pace my room. I shouldn’t have called.
I should have left a voicemail.
And say what?
I miss you?
Hey, I’m homeless. How are you?
Are you still an asshole? No?
Do you think you could love me?
Fuck. I’m pathetic.
I jump when my phone chimes with a text.
Slowly, I reach for it. The text notification appears, but not the actual message. I click the notification and my phone unlocks with face recognition. I’m surprised it recognized me, because at the moment, I feel nothing like myself. It’s not smart enough to know I’m completely devastated on the inside.
One word appears on the screen.
Gabriel:Busy
WTF?Three dots bounce on the screen. I wait, trying not to read too much into hisbusyresponse. He’s typing something else, so that has to be good. Right?
The dots disappear a millisecond before a picture pings on the screen.
It takes me a second to register what I’m seeing. It’s a woman with blonde hair. Her face is distorted, and she’s— “Oh my God!” I scream and drop the phone.
He didn’t.
He couldn’t.
I look at the screen, my phone lying face-up on the floor.
He did.
“Asshole!”
I pick up the phone, turn off the screen, and set it on the nightstand instead of hurling it across the room.
On the edge of the bed, I scrunch up my eyes, trying to unsee some blonde woman giving Gabriel a blow job.
A. Blow. Job.
I’m a fucking idiot.
