Zac: A butterfly then.
Love: Wrong again.Also, why the hell are butterflies SO overrated? They don’t do any of the work. It’s all caterpillars. And they don’t get nearly enough credit. I’m pissed.
Zac: Yeah, but butterflies are much cooler.
Love: Agree to disagree.
Zac: Did I strike a nerve?
Love: Nah. Just having a shit night. Sorry.
Zac: You too?
Love: You have no idea.
Zac: What happened?
Love: You go first.
Zac: Just been stuck at some lame-ass party and debating on drowning myself in the punch bowl. You?
My breath hitches, scraping at the back of my throat.
A party?
As in… this party?
Love: Theodore Cox’s party?
Please say no.
Zac: Yeah. How’d you know?
Fuck.
Love: Because I’m here, too.
He stops replying for a bit, and it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s probably just as freaked-out as I am. We’re closer to each other than anticipated.
Much closer.
And here I thought this anonymity pact would be child’s play.
Zac: So, we run in the same circle then?
Love: Looks like it.
Zac:I didn’t know you were popular, L.
Love:Who says that I am?
Zac: Don’t bother. You got invited to the cool kids’ party. The jig is up.
Love: So? Maybe I snuck in through the back door.
Zac:You mean the locked back door? Fat chance.
Love: How do you know it’s locked?