Page 48 of Double or Nothing

“Bryce?! Jack?!”

Jack is standing by his coffee machine, his blond hair dishevelled as he yawns and gives me a wave across the room. He looks majestic in his navy blue dressing gown.

Realising I’m stark naked, I do my best to cover myself.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he says.

My heart is pounding as I glance around the place, desperate for Bryce to appear.

“He’s already gone,” Jack tells me. “Didn’t even leave a thanks for the fuck note, the cheeky bastard.”

“He’s gone? What, just disappeared?!”

“He bailed, yeah. No sign of him when I woke up, and he must have left in a flurry. I’m sure he’d have loaded the empty glasses in the dishwasher if he was taking his time. It’s obvious he’s a bit of a neat freak.”

I steady myself against the wall, trying to handle the stab of pain.

Bryce is gone.

I fucked up. Again.

“Hey, what the hell?” Jack says and walks over, standing tall in front of me. “You alright?”

I nod, but don’t speak.

“Jesus Christ,” he says. “I knew you guys were besotted, but you look like you’re about to pass out.”

I swallow it down. Force a smile.

“I’m not going to pass out. I’m fine.”

“Like fuck you are.”

Jack’s eyes burn into me. I don’t want him to see this. I don’t want him to know how bad it hurts.

“I, um. I’m not used to rum,” I lie.

“Don’t even try with the blagging, Soul Girl. I’m a little smarter than that, thanks.”

I need to put a plug in this. I don’t want to embarrass myself and start snort sobbing like the world is ending. Not in front of Jack.

I breathe. Just breathe. And try to bury it inside me. Deep, where it’s always been. I’m used to putting up walls and burying the demons.

“Sorry about this,” I say. “I’ll grab my dress, and bag and stuff, and get going.”

“Bail like BT, without even joining me for a coffee? Rude fuckers, the pair of you.”

“Sorry,” I say again.

“You don’t need to be sorry for wanting to bawl your eyes out,” he says. “It’s hardly news. You admitted it last night, remember? That you’re crazy about the guy. I knew it long before the horny confession. It was obvious right from the word go.”

“It’s… complicated.”

He laughs, but it’s a gentle one.

“Complicated. That’s so bloody cliché. Tell you what. How about you have a coffee and enlighten me?”

I scoff in return. It feels better than crying.