The Bookworm's Guide to Faking (The Bookworm's Guide #2) - Emma Hart Page 0,12
to get over myself. I did need to get over what had happened.
And if I was honest, I wasn’t at all surprised that Sebastian had tricked me into saying yes. That was exactly why I didn’t argue with him—it was because he’d always, always been able to tie me up in knots and make me lose the argument. He had an innate ability to get me all twisted around so I ended up agreeing with him even if I didn’t want to, and that was exactly what he’d just done to me.
Goddamn it.
I unfurled my fingers and looked at the crumpled piece of paper. It moved as it had the freedom to open itself, and my heart lurched when I saw his handwriting.
It hadn’t changed a bit.
Unbidden, a smile tugged at my lips at the familiarity of his messy scrawl, and my eyes darted back and forth across his number.
I should have tossed it in the trash.
I should have burned it.
Threw it down the toilet.
Drowned it in the sink.
Done anything with it but what I did.
And that was tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans before looking at the door, even though he was long, long gone.
Damn him.
CHAPTER FIVE – HOLLEY
rule five: lies and cliffhangers are one and the same. full of duplicity and an unsatisfying ending.
at least it’s legal to throw books. people… not so much.
I stared at my phone.
I’d put Sebastian’s number into it for safekeeping. Despite my proclivity for organization, I did have a habit of being on the forgetful side. There was every chance I’d lose Sebastian’s number, so that was why it was in my phone.
At least that’s what I was telling myself.
I was really great at lying to myself.
I sighed and put my phone down. I wasn’t going to do this. I wasn’t going to text him. Absolutely nothing good would come from texting Sebastian Stone.
God only knew nothing good had come from seeing him twice.
As if my day wasn’t bad enough. That book Saylor swore to me had a happy ending?
She’d lied.
No happy ending.
It was a big, fat cliffhanger, so I was extra mad.
And it was Monday.
It was like a giant trifecta of bullshittery.
The timer in the kitchen went off, so I went it to get my dinner. After fixing my plate with spaghetti Bolognese, I took it into the living room and set the plate down on the coffee table so I could find something to watch on TV.
There was nothing, so Game of Thrones it was.
Then I immediately pulled my phone onto the table next to my plate and unlocked it with my thumbprint.
Clearly, I wasn’t watching it today.
The screen flashed up with the unwritten text message to Sebastian. I frowned at it as I twirled spaghetti onto my fork. Even if I did text him, what was I supposed to say? Everyone knew it was easier to talk over text than in person. If I started this conversation, what kind of can of worms would I be opening?
I’ll tell you.
Not one filled with worms at all.
It’d be one filled with snakes. Deadly snakes.
I mulled it over as I ate. There was no right answer to this situation, and I was annoyed that I’d put myself in it by bringing his number home.
I was an idiot.
I put down my fork and picked up my phone, then typed out a quick message.
ME: You should know that I’m not happy about this.
There. That would tell him who I was without the need for me to introduce myself. Even if I didn’t want him having my number, it was inevitable. He had to understand that I wasn’t going to his sister’s wedding. There were no guarantees he’d be back in the store and I didn’t know where he was living right now, so this was my only means of communication with him.
File that under Lies I Tell Myself.
I could write a freakin’ self-help book about that. Become one of those whacky social media gurus, make a truckload of money, leave White Peak for a bit city somewhere and—
Ooh, no. That wouldn’t do. There were lots of people in cities, and I didn’t do people.
As my current sweater declared: it’s too peopley outside.
My phone flashed with another message, and I unlocked it.
SEBASTIAN: Holy fuck. You actually kept my number.
I snorted.
ME: It was against my better judgment.
SEBASTIAN: I didn’t think you actually would. I was gearing up for a battle.
ME: Well, you’ll have one. With your elderly relatives on Saturday night. I’m not going.