CHAPTER NINE
IT'S THE NEXT DAY. After Brogan's reveal, I've been a mess, mentally. I've already known about Jordan's second phone, because he uses it for all of his public handles—YouTube, Instagram, Twitter, and the like. That much I've already known, but I don't know the phone's actual number. Zero—two—one—four. I repeat the number over and over in my head, lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
What am I supposed to do, play pickpocket? Should I wait for Jordan to somehow forget it and leave it lying around while he goes off to the bathroom? Am I to guess his pin number to unlock his phone? Highly unlikely, since the probability for guessing Jordan's pin is the same probability for Brogan guessing the phone number's last four digits—ten-thousand possible combination outcomes. My old self might have been pretty treacherous, but I'm no spy. I would feel terrible about myself for snooping around like that. That's just not me. Besides, how much more terrible would I feel about myself, if I somehow managed to gain access his phone, only to find out that it's the wrong number?
Maybe Brogan's lying. Then again, I've never known Brogan to lie, or at least, he's never been caught in one, but either way, he's probably telling the truth. Maybe he ended up making the wrong conclusion—maybe the leak was genuine but it's actual source is someone else, entirely. The only thing that's certain is that someone sent a picture and a text, but nothing definitively points to that someone as being Jordan, specifically. How did Brogan come up with that conclusion? I'm almost certain that I didn't miss anything within our short, little, covert conversation. Does Brogan actually have a link between that number and Jordan's phone? He seemed adamant. I hate to admit it, but I'm inclined to believe that he has a link, even if he didn't share that part. It's too late to get him to spill, because I'm just never going to willingly call him. I don't want to let him think that he's won—that he's successfully gotten into my head and destroyed the comfort of my last friendship.
My phone vibrates, and I sigh as I realize I'd left it on my nightstand. Part of me hopes that it's not Brogan, but another part of me secretly wishes that it is—if only to get him to share that missing link, and it would be so much easier to get him to spill without having to pretend that I'm talking to my father again. I check my phone, smiling as I read the name across the screen—it's a text message from Edmund. His message reads, 'If you're free, would you care to hang out?' My smile widens, I'm elated that he's actually offering to spend at least part of his last, full day here with me. It's the perfect thing to get my mind off of this mess. I reply, 'Absolutely.' He replies instantly saying, 'Splendid! Meet me at my hotel room when you're ready.'
~ ~ ~
"What did you want to do today? Did you have anything specific in mind?" I ask, stepping in through the door. As I pass him, his halos of pale ice roll up and down the length of me, making me shiver inside even as the heat begins to burn my cheeks.
"Well, that won't do. Apparently, I'll have to undress you first," he says as he closes the door, flipping the privacy latch into the locked position. I clear my throat, gulping nervously, I wasn't expecting him to go from zero to fifty shades as soon as I got in. "Your clothes are not quite beach-ready attire."
"Well, you never said anything about a beach," I say, shaking my head, trying to shake dirty thoughts away from my mind as I mentally will my cheeks to cool down.
"Perhaps I forgot to mention it," he says, motioning towards the closet, gesturing for me to take a look at what he has that might work for me. As he slides open the door, I immediately spot a pair of shorts as if he'd placed them up front for me to see them first. I get the feeling that he purposefully omitted mentioning the beach, perhaps for a chance for him to see me wearing his clothes, yet again. "Originally, I wanted to walk the Golden Gate Bridge, but I found out about a beach that has it within view, and that beach seemed to catch my interest. Besides, I've heard you're interested in people who happen to enjoy long walks on a beach."
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Teen FictionFrom the outside, Dalton's life seems rather idyllic, until a middle-of-the-night phone call changes his life forever. What will Dalton do when he realizes he's been living a lie? Can he find peace within himself? - - - Note: I'm primarily a gay-the...