Page 112 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

“Wow, must be nice to turn down work,” I say with a smirk.

“Some dogs are more important than money,” he says, ruffling their punk poofs.

God, I wish he would just adopt them.

“Text you in a bit?” I ask. “After you wear them out?”

“We’ll be here when you’re done,” he says, and as I slip through the dog park gate, I glance back to see that he’s already got the guys running an agility course around the place. He truly is a dog wizard.

Meanwhile,Iam going to be a life wizard.

By which I mean, I’m notonlymaking up with Hannah—I’m also determined to get as far away from that cursed construction site as possible. That’s right: Baby’s getting herself a new job. As I walk to the bar, I pop into every single store and restaurant and coffee shop and check if they’re hiring.

Tragically, by the time I mustered up enough humility to call that guy from LookShopNow, they were done setting up interviews. And I’m clearly not getting the magical 11.5K infusion that I hoped I would. So if I’m going to quit being a crossing guard, I need a new job pronto, or I’ll have to move back in with my folks, which is obviously not happening.

#thankssheila

I’m only a little sweaty by the time I get to Dickie’s. It’s cool in there and the lights are low, as usual, and Hannah’s already there, sitting in the booth farthest from the door.

She looks worse than I’ve ever seen her.

She’s also already got two beers at the table, so I don’t waste time at the bar and just slide in across from her.

“I’ve ruined everything,” she says, before I even get a chance to ask.

It takes me a second to understand what she’s said, because Hannah’s not the ruiner. That’s me.

She’s the perfect one.

“What do you mean?” I ask gently. “You don’t meanus, right? We were both in a weird mood, we said dumb things—”

“No, not us,” she says, waving a hand dismissively as she chokes back a dry sob. “With Kenji and Reuben and Eva. Eva found outthat I borrowed her green screen and just lost it at me. Which is fair. I should’ve asked.”

Oh boy. “Just blame me,” I say. “It’s my fault and she hates me anyway.”

She shakes her head. “That’s small potatoes compared to the arguments with Reuben and Kenji. Kenji says I spend more of my time online than with him. And Reuben just thinks I’m doing everything wrong with my business, so I can’t talk to any of them about—” She kind of chokes and then blows her nose on a napkin.

Here’s me being honest: Yeah, fine, I’ve been jealous of Hannah’s setup. I always joke about how her polycule seems way more complicated than fun, but at the end of the day, she’s got so many people who care about her... it honestly makes me feel like she doesn’t really needme. Which sucks.

But the fact that they’re making it work and are in love and romantically humping—it’s inspiring. It makes me think it could happen for me again someday. So as much as the comparison game can creep up on me, I want those crazy kids to make it. I want love to be real, even when it looks like a dodecahedron. I don’t want my friend to be as heartbroken as I am.

I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’m here for you,” I say. “No matter what.”

She takes a deep breath. “Mo, they don’t believe me.”

Did I miss something? I missed something. “About what?”

“The Instagram stalker.”

“The stalker you tried to tell me about?”

Hannah sniffles. “That one.”

“And I didn’t listen?”

“And you didn’t listen. But at least you believed me. And I just—I feel so alone, and I’m a little scared, Mo. I need help.”

“Let me see,” I say, holding out my hand. “The messages.”