After I used the bathroom and washed my hands, I went to the upstairs living room. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Brentwood and Seaton sprawled before me, shifting from thick trees losing their leaves to tightly packed buildings and eventually the ocean. It was gray out today.
I turned away from the view and spread out on one of four white couches. There was so much room here, and it was nice to have space, even if it wasn’t my own.
Being at Zara’s house didn’t feel like being in Kai’s. Here, I was a guest, welcomed. Mr. Rush treated us like we were untrustworthy, never allowing us to clean without the supervision of him or Robert. He made sure my mother and I knew we didn’t belong.
An ache grew in the pit of my stomach from thoughts of the Rushes and seeing DP the night before. I was unsettled, restless, but I couldn’t run out and jump off a roof—at least, not with as positive of an ending as those guys.
I rolled my shoulders, hoping to ease the tension, and began scrolling through social media. A notification slid down my screen, from my mother.
Mom: Staying with Camilla tonight. Isa’s sick and she can’t call off work. Want to come over?
I smiled at the phone. My mom would do anything for her friends. I admired that about her.
Jordan: I’ll stay at the house. Give Isa a hug for me. :)
Mom: I will. Call me if you need anything. Ly
Jordan: Lym
Even though I loved my mom, I looked forward to a night to myself. I needed a break sometimes too. Like now, sitting in the sparse living room with just myself and the scent of rose petals diffused throughout the house, I could just relax.
I lay back on the couch and looked at my phone. My notifications showed I had several unopened messages—mostly promotional items or automated texts sent from the school, so I opened my messenger app and began clearing them out.
An unknown number topped the list with a text from around two in the morning. I squinted at it. The preview had my name...
I tapped it, and the messages I’d missed filled the screen.
Unknown number: Jordan, I miss you, baby.
Unknown number: Why did you block my number?
Unknown number: I need you. Talk to me.
Unknown number: I thought you loved me.
Unknown number: I know you’re up. Call me.
Unknown number: When can I see you?
Hair rose on the back of my neck as I read to the bottom, where the messages stopped at four in the morning. My fingers flew over the screen with a response.
Jordan: Leave me alone, Martín.
And then I blocked this number too.
My stomach turned uneasily. I shifted in my seat and chewed on the crook of my index finger. Martín’s new girl had probably left him, and now he was feeling bad. He wasn’t dangerous, I told myself; he was heartbroken.
Well, good. Maybe he would understand how I’d been feeling the last several weeks knowing he’d chosen someone else over me. The fact that he wanted me now that I wanted nothing to do with him felt satisfying somehow. I had no other guy waiting for me, no other options, and I’d still said no.
“You look happy,” Rory said, walking into the living room.
Adrenaline flooded my body, and I gasped. “Rory! You scared me!”
“Sorry!” she said with a yawn as she sat on one of the couches. “Why are you so jumpy?”
I blushed a little. “Just blocked Martín’s number.” For the second time, I didn’t add.
She grinned. “Good for you. You’ll find a good guy—even better than Martín or Kai.”
“Easy for you to say,” I countered. “You landed Mr. Perfect.”
Her smile grew even wider. “I can’t really argue.”
“Exactly,” I said. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”
She shrugged. “Homework?”
I shrugged too. “Not like I have anything better to do.” We went back to the room and grabbed our backpacks. For the next few hours, we worked in silence on our assignments, waiting for the other girls to wake up.
When they did, we spent most of the afternoon baking cookies in Zara’s gourmet kitchen—well, eating cookies that Callie baked based on her mom’s recipes. Romcoms played on the TV embedded in the refrigerator, and between shows and taste tests, we talked about life. I knew this was one of those days that I’d always cherish and was sad when it came time to go. Zara had a blind date to get ready for, Ginger had curfew, and the rest of us had no reason to hang around.
“Can someone give me a ride?” I asked.
“I can,” Ginger offered.
We got in her car, and after I buckled in, I asked, “Are you sure your parents will be okay with it?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “They would never want one of my friends walking outside at night.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Your parents would be horrified at some of the dates I’d had with Martín, then.” We’d been to college parties that lasted well past six in the morning.
“Just call me Rapunzel, locked away in my tower.” She frowned, giving away the hurt behind her joking words.
“Only until graduation,” I reminded her.
“Nope.” Her red hair shook around her as she turned onto the main highway that led to Seaton. “They want me to go to UCLA. Close enough to commute. Where’s your house again?”
The image of my crummy apartment building on trash pickup day with litter strewn over the parking lot made me cringe. As bad as I felt knowing I lived there, it would be worse if Ginger knew as well.
“Drop me off at Seaton Bakery?” I said. “My mom texted me.” It wasn’t technically a lie, but I still felt bad. I’d seen each of their homes at least once, even if it was just from the outside. They had houses they could be proud of, with white picket fences and landscaped lawns. If they lived somewhere like I did, I had no doubt they’d want to keep it secret too.
“I can’t believe I hadn’t been there before we set up Rory and Beckett. Their cupcakes are so good,” she gushed.
“The best,” I agreed.
She pulled into the parking lot and said, “Mind if I come in and grab one with you?”
I hesitated, worried she might guess my mom wasn’t actually meeting me, but eventually shrugged. “Sure.” It was a free country after all.
We walked inside and scanned the shelves of treats.
She ordered one of my favorites—a cookies and cream cupcake—and then waited. “Aren’t you going to get something?”
I shook my head. “I’ll grab one with my mom...Tradition,” I added for good measure.
She scanned the room. “Where is she?”
“Probably running late.” I shrugged. This lying was getting old, but I couldn’t give this away without explaining why I’d lied in the first place. “You can head out if you want.”
“Are you sure? I can call my parents and see if I can wait with you?”
“Nah.” I started walking toward the exit so she’d get the hint. “I’ll see you Monday?”
She nodded with her hand on the door. “Call me tomorrow if you want. I won’t be doing anything exciting.”
I told her I would text her and waved goodbye as she backed out of the parking lot. When I saw her tail lights instead of headlights, I couldn’t help the relaxed sigh I let out. I loved the girl, but I wanted to get home too.