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I hurriedly open the thread and scan over what appears to be a one-sided convo with me, myself, and I.
*winking emoji*
“Katelynn.” I rub a hand down my face, unsure if I’m ready to see how this train wreck unfolds, but unable to look away.
Maybe it’ll get better.
Sorry, meant *winking-kissing-emoji*
Nope. Not better.
It was niCe meeeting you and Brany tonight.After he didn’t respond, I followed that up with,I’m here fpr a couple weeks if you get borde.
Cheeks heating, I toss my phone onto the bed and stand. My furry friend bolts back to her hiding spot when I start furiously pacing.
“Whywould I message him?” I smash my hands against my eyes.
In my drunken stupor, I must have found him in the hub for the local area.
A glutton for punishment, I snatch my phone back up, open the app, and scroll through our messages.
I click on the image icon of Damon in a suit and begin to stalk his profile.
“Of course he’s wearing a suit. He’s a successful…”
I don’t remember the specifics, but I do remember Brandi saying he was the boss of the men they were with.
His profile is pretty basic, but having no memory of reading it last night, I find myself gobbling up his bio.
“App developer who lives in Los Angeles. Fancy.”
There’s a carousel of four images to scroll through, and I flick through them until I see him and Brandi standing together—her in a wedding dress, him in a tux.
“Good gravy, that man can wear a suit.”
I read on through his schooling, which admittedly takes up most of the five hundred allotted characters, before reaching the end where, very plainly, it states that he loves baseball and fishing.
I snort. Not exactly a biography I pictured coming from the captivating man I met last night.
With sweat gathering in all my uncomfortable places, I switch over to the messages I sent. And—because why not—I add one more text.
Sorry about this. I’d delete these messages if this stupid app would let me, but since I can’t, I’ll just cringe and offer an apology instead. Enjoy your vacation.
There’s no way he read all of those and doesn’t think I’m some ditzy party girl just looking for a good time. Hell, I almost wish that were the case.
“Well, now that the damage control is settled, I guess it’s time for coffee.”
Maybe I’ll get lucky, and I won’t see Damon again for the rest of the trip.
Topica Bay is a decently large island. It’s not impossible to think I could somehow avoid him.
I grab the duffel bag I bought at one of the boutiques yesterday off the hole-ridden carpet and dump its contents onto the bed, thankful I was able to purchase a few things before being cut off from the Goldhart’s.
Changing into a hot pink bikini with a sheer black cover-up, I click open the Futuro app on my phone. My only saving grace. And right about now, I’m willing to kiss my skeevy boss right on the lips for suggesting I sign up for a debit account with them where my paychecks are deposited.
If only I’d learned to save a little emergency money…
As of today, I’ve got about two thousand dollars to my name.
