Page 22

Three days of silence.

"You're stabbing that octopus like it personally offended you," James observed, watching me from across the break table.

I glanced down at my plate, where I'd been aggressively spearing pieces of baby octopus salad without actually eating them. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"About Tattoo Boy?" James asked, though it wasn't really a question. He knew me too well.

"I don't want to talk about it," I muttered, finally taking a bite of food.

James shrugged, returning his attention to my phone, which he'd commandeered as soon as we sat down for our break. "Fine by me. I'm busy finding you a replacement anyway."

I should have protested, should have snatched my phone back and told him to mind his own business. But the truth was, I didn't have the energy to care anymore. If James wanted toswipe right on every man in a fifty-mile radius, let him. It wasn't like any of them would measure up to?—

No. I wasn't going to think about Matt. Not now. Not when I was finally starting to feel like myself again after the emotional whiplash of the past few days.

"How was your date with Liam?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

James's face lit up instantly. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. We went to that new place on Harbor Street—you know, the one with the rooftop garden? He had reservations, which was impressive because that place is booked solid for months."

I smiled, genuinely happy to see him so excited. "And? Details, please."

"He was a perfect gentleman. Pulled out my chair, ordered wine that cost more than my rent, knew exactly what to say to make me laugh." James sighed dreamily. "And then he walked me home and kissed me goodnight at my door. Just a kiss—nothing more. Said he wanted to take things slow, do it right."

"Wow. He sounds too good to be true."

"I know, right? I keep waiting for the catch. Like maybe he's secretly married, or he has a collection of human teeth in his basement." James laughed, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "But so far, he seems... real. Like, genuinely nice."

"You deserve that," I said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "I'm happy for you."

And I was. James was one of the best people I knew, and if anyone deserved a fairy-tale romance, it was him. I was an empath at heart—when my friends were happy, I was happy. When they were sad, I felt that too. Right now, I was leaching off James's happiness, letting it brighten my own mood despite the Matt-shaped cloud hanging over me.

"Oh!" James exclaimed suddenly, his eyes fixed on my phone. "You've got a Facebook message."

Before I could respond, he'd already opened it, his smile growing wider as he read. "Well, well, well," he murmured, typing something in response.

"What? Who is it?" My curiosity was piqued despite myself.

James turned the phone around, showing me a profile I didn't recognize. The name read "Alexander 'Alex' Williams," and the profile picture showed a good-looking guy with blonde hair and a crooked smile that seemed both confident and a little shy.

The message read:

Hey, I saw your Tinder profile, and well, I'm better at social media detective work than I am at talking to someone on there, so I thought I'd find your profile, stalk you a bit, then message you. By the way, your bio is so funny—I must say you have my attention.

I laughed, remembering the ridiculous bio James had written for me. "What did you say back?"

"I asked if he was a merman," James said proudly.

As if on cue, a new message appeared:

No, but I can hold my breath for a very, very long time. Would you like to see how long I can be smothered for?

I felt my cheeks heat at the innuendo, and James burst out laughing. "Oh, I like him already," he said, typing a response before I could stop him.

I leaned over to read what he'd written:

If you can hold your breath for as long as my gag reflex can last, then yes, I might hold you to that.

"James!" I exclaimed, laughing despite myself. "You can't just?—"