That’s how crazy I’ve gotten.
Groaning, I check my phone yet again, but still nothing.
It hasn’t gone unnoticed that she doesn’t seem to want me around Bora. I hope that it isn’t suddenly an issue, because now it’s too damn late. I’m hooked. Hell, I’m reeled.
My phone goes to my pocket when I see Cody walking toward me. We still haven’t been on the best of terms, and I passed up going out with him last night even after Bo canceled on me.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he wants to. Instead, he clocks in and disappears into one of the studio rooms, preparing for class.
My phone buzzes, and I practically juggle it out of my pocket like a crazed idiot. But confusion hits instead of relief when I see Cody’s name on the screen, along with a picture.
I open it up, seeing his message.
CODY: Didn’t want to send this until I knew you were alone. I’m here when you need to talk. No rush. I know this is a lot to take in. They all went up to her apartment after this. I watched. I had a bad feeling about her from the start.
I’m still confused until I see there are actually four pictures instead of just one. The first is of Bo—no, not Bo. That’s Bora. No way would Bo be kissing another guy in front of her apartment building.
Then I see the guy’s face in the next picture, along with the other two, and I have to slowly sit down on the stool behind me.
Dixon.
It’s just him and Bora—no fucking way is that Bo—in the kissing picture. In the other three, however, Bo is outside with them, talking to them. Acting like it’s fucking normal for them to be on the street and making out.
Bile rises to my throat as I try to piece it all together, but it just doesn’t make sense. Why the hell is Bora making out with Dixon? I know Bo knows who he is. She has to. No way does she not know.
Then I remember the last text she sent me. Bora just needs me tonight.
Anger slowly starts to simmer in my veins as I start dissecting that. We’ve come full circle and I’m back to piecing together all her games. She underestimated me once before, and apparently she hasn’t learned her lesson.
I wasted the night being worried that something was wrong, but no. She hung out with her sister and my sister’s fucking husband. Guess I know why she didn’t want me in her fucking apartment last night.
I stand up and sit down several times, then finally I slam my phone on the counter and try to take slow breaths.
I bet they’re having a damn good time laughing behind my back. Sneaking around like they’re so motherfucking brilliant.
Why? Why the hell did she continue to see me when she was keeping this a fucking secret from me?
Not that it should surprise me. All she does is keep secrets. From everyone. Hell, this whole thing started because she was lying to me, so why am I so fucking surprised that she’s been lying to me the entire time.
Even though I’d rather do anything else, I look at the first picture again, noticing how Bora is leaning into him with effortless familiarity. No way is this a new thing. Not even Bora is that cozy on a first date.
I shove my phone in my pocket and grab my keys.
“Where’re you going?” Dustin calls from behind me as I stalk out the door.
They can handle the gym. I have something of my own to handle.
My car is boxed in, and I curse, ready to punch something. But it’s not like she works too far from here, so I jog straight toward Pretty Posh’s new headquarters inside the Sterling Front building.
By the time I reach the door, I’ve had plenty of time to stew over how stupid I am. How could I ever trust a girl who blatantly lied to me? She pretended to be her fucking twin sister and came on a trip with me.
How in the hell did I think it would be a good idea to get in a relationship with her? It’s insane, and I deserve the reminder that people fucking suck.
I got sucked in, lost inside those endless shy eyes and that sweet, deceptive laugh. I got sucked in by the charade of how massive her heart is. I thought she was the most genuine person I’d ever met. How could I think that when it all started with a lie?
Because I’m a fucking moron. That’s why.
The receptionist smiles and gives me a little wave when I get off on Pretty Posh’s executive floor, but she doesn’t grill me about who I’m here to see like she did the last time.