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Hiding out in her room seemed logical, but with my stomach growling and my mouth parched, I know I’ll have to make my way to the kitchen eventually. And most importantly, I have to tell Mom I’m heading home early. I need a distraction. Something to occupy my mind and push away the pain even if only for a few moments.
“Can I borrow your computer?” I ask, mindful she has ‘Property of Tayla Chase’ stickered all over her electronics.
“Sure,” she replies, moving off the bed and to me. She leans over and types in the password quickly like I’m spying.
I thank her kindly with a trace of sarcasm, then proceed to log into my account and check my unread emails. Nina’s sent another long email. Apparently, she’s in full damage-control mode and the network execs are beyond pissed. Wesley’s being flown back to the States for an emergency meeting. They request that I be there to discuss the future of the show also. It seems unnatural to sit in a boardroom and discuss how to fix our relationship. The thought of being in the same room with Wes makes my skin crawl. To think he could do that and expect me to carry on like nothing’s happened makes me question my sanity.
Yet, once again, without any warning, my heart sinks as the love I feel for this man cannot easily be erased. With a quiet sniff, I hold back the tears, tired of crying over something I have no control over.
The damage is done—he’s broken us.
Exiting out of that email, I run the mouse along the other highlighted items. I go by an alias name of Jane Smith. The plainest name one can think of. Using my real name’s not an option with all the hackers who stalk the Internet.
There’s a lot of junk including emails from retailers with their latest offerings, a grant to inherit money from dying widows in Africa if I click and provide my credit card details—yeah, not likely!
My eyes immediately stop scrolling when I notice a new email from John Smith.
Jane,
Avoidance can only get you so far.
John
I check my contact list to remind myself who John Smith is then it clicks—Logan.
Jane, John, and Joe—the three Smiths.
We did this so we could communicate with each other and keep our lives private, but we’ve been using text messages more recently. Ash sends me links to stupid videos of animals doing crazy things, and occasionally he sends an article worth reading. Logan rarely emails me anything unless we’re in a group email.
My fingers rest on the keyboard, not sure how to respond.
Tayla
’s busying herself watching some hair tutorial on YouTube while I stare at the screen. Slowly, at less than a snail’s pace, my fingers begin to move of their own accord.
John,
Same with cockiness. Don’t you have another notch to grove into your ever-growing belt?
Jane
I contemplate shutting down my email, but something makes me keep it open. It’s almost as if I’m waiting to see how he can possibly respond to that. I swivel around on my chair and see Tayla smiling at something on her screen. “What’s so funny?”
She looks up, unaware I’ve been watching her. “Oh, just a comment this guy left.”
“Oh…” I acknowledge with a grin. “A guy?”
She nods, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re not dating. He has a girlfriend…” she pauses, her eyes going up like she’s in deep thought and then she continues, “… I think. He leaves comments here and there and they’re just funny.”
“Young love… I remember those days. Except, we didn’t have cells so it was all about passing a note.”
“A note? That’s so old school.”
“You’re telling me. It would have been so much fun messaging a boy rather than passing a note down the classroom hoping that the gossip queen, Rosie Peach, won’t sneak a look at it.”
The sound of a faint ding catches my attention. Turning around to face the screen, I see another email from John Smith. Anxiously, I open it, not realizing I’m holding my breath.
Jane,
