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Why?
*pointed stare* Sleep.
Sleep? What is this you speak of?
It’s this newfangled thing where everyone goes unconscious for like, eight hours, or something. It’s all the rage.
Eight hours!? WTH?
*shrugs* So I hear.
I don’t believe it. But I’ll let you get to it. ;)
Okay. Night, London.
Night, Lily. <3
I stare at the way he signed off, trying not to read too much into things. But I can’t help it.
He used a heart.
My own stupid heart trips over itself.
As I exit our conversation, I find myself over on Facebook, searching his name. There’s a profile on there that seems like it might be his, but there are no pictures of him that are public, so it’s hard to tell. The main profile picture is just a telescope.
I make note of the profile name: LondonStJames94. Then, I head over to Instagram and type it in.
The same profile image is there, too. However, the profile has a few public pictures.
One by one, I scroll through them, trying to figure out if the profile is his. The most recent images are night shots. Images of the moon, stars, and the Northern Lights.
Then, I lock in on one that triggers a smile.
It’s a picture of Myles sticking out her tongue at the camera. Her hair is bright pink and longer than it is now.
Bingo.
I continue scrolling through the images, stopping on one of London and the waitress—Rebecca? They’re in a booth somewhere. A restaurant, maybe?
He’s smiling at the camera but there’s something off about it. Like it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Rebecca, on the other hand, is dressed in a black tank top that accentuates her white skin as her ample cleavage pops and her boobs practically spill out of it.
I open the image and read the caption.
“Date night with my girl.”
Jealousy sweeps through me when I realize they were an item.
The date on the photo is from five months ago. With the way he treated her the other day, I doubt they’re still a thing. However, that doesn’t stop me from tapping her tagged name and hopping over to her profile.
Hers is a billboard of bimbo. It’s nothing but boob shots and duck faces.
I shudder, but obsessively continue to scroll, searching for any evidence of London on her timeline.
She posts much more frequently than London, so I have to scroll a bit before I stumble on something that makes me stop in my tracks.
London is laying on what looks like to be a bed. He’s totally shirtless, and his left arm is raised up and over his eyes, like he’s embarrassed by the photo. Or doesn’t want any one to know it’s him.
