Page 115 of The Other Side of Paradise

So she’s staying? With you?

she’s staying,I sent, and then,with me,and,do you mind if I’m messaging you every five minutes on how to keep a girl interested in me? there is literally nothing I wouldn’t do for her

Only if I get the right to make fun of you for being a huge sap.

granted,I sent with a laugh, and I chewed my cheek, typing another reply.you know she’s right, about Ryan

I hope so,she sent back.I already made my move. Ball’s in her court.

I sat forward, suddenly alert.you did?? when??

just now,she sent, and then a link to an article—written by Ryan Bell.Personal update,it was titled. I’d never actually looked up her writing. I opened the link, and I felt the thrill secondhand while reading it—describing her situation, having just missed her flight, sitting alone in a hotel room.

I know I mentioned the ex-boyfriend fiasco in the last personal update,it read a few paragraphs in,but I didn’t mention the other part of it. The more important part. The part with the woman who gave me a safe place to land when everything fell apart, the woman who inspired me to tell my truth to my family and to my supporters, and the woman who’s made this whole experience worth having.

I’ve kept quiet about this because I didn’t want to polarize anybody, but I can’t keep quiet on my own self, especially not when I’m writing on matters of human rights and equality. I’m bisexual, and my family isn’t on speaking terms with me anymore over it.

I practically flew over the words to get to the bottom.

I like to imagine she’s reading this. In which case… thank you. I promise I’m not going to regress. You cared too much about me for me to do that.

And then below that, the comments—well, they were noisy. I was sure she was a good writer with a good audience, but I was sure even so, she still wasn’t normally getting such huge rushes of comments. But the one at the top was far and away the highest-voted one, with about a million replies to that message too.

I was just realizing how I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about you, either, Ryan.

I’m by the water, if you want something else to get in the way of your flight tomorrow. You know where.

Not to be corny, but I’d gladly be the reason you miss every flight.

- Brooklyn

“Shit,” I laughed, staring wide-eyed, open-mouthed, at the message. I swiped back to my chat with her, typing a reply.jesus, she turned you into a romantic

Trust me, I’m just as confused as you are.

I jumped when the car door opened, and I looked over at where Stella stepped into the car, two bags of food with her that she flung into the back. “What’s up?” she said, looking at where I think I had it written all over my face. “Texting some other girl?”

“What? No. I mean, technically yes, but I wouldn’t hit on BB for a million dollars. It—look,” I said, opening the link againand shoving the phone into her hands, and she took it with her brow furrowed, looking through the page.

“Ryan posted something?”

“Just read it.”

I watched her expression shift slowly as she read, and then the moment where she saw Brooklyn’s comment—how her face lit up, a hand over her mouth, before she let out a laugh, shoving the phone into my hand. “The hotel,” she said. “Let’s go. Now. If Ryan is still there, I’m going to kick her ass.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I laughed, taking the car out of park, and I jolted in surprise when she said,

“And there’s a lot more that I want to do to you at a hotel, so I’mreallyhoping she gets the message and vacates the premises.”

“Oh, god. I mean, I have my own place here, it’s—”

“Iknow,but there’s something fun about fucking you in a bed that doesn’t belong to either of us. Do you want to, or do you not?”

“I do. Want to. Shockingly enough.”

Thank god the hotel wasn’t far—less than ten minutes driving before we pulled into the front lot in front of an utterly forgettable looking hotel, not that it would be forgettable for long if Stella had her way—and Stella had a keycard that she swiped us into the elevator with after hurrying through the lobby, down a hall that smelled like carpet cleaner and up to where the room looked dark inside. Maybe Ryan had already gotten the message. Stella swiped open the lock, making a face when she opened the door.

“Ryan—what the hell are you doing here?” she said, and I pushed up against the doorframe with her.