Tangling the Knot

Chapter Six

- Oaklyn -

"I think he might have deactivated his account," Sailor interrupted, but I was too engrossed in Bridgerton to care. If she thought the sound of her voice could pull me away from Anthony Bridgerton plunging into the lake, she was sorely mistaken.

Sailor craned her neck. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of her giving me a scathing death stare despite the illuminated screen. "Oaklyn," she called.

I hushed her. "Shut up, you're missing the best part."

Mid-scene, the television paused. I sighed deeply. Sailor had risen from the middle of my bed, invading my personal space, and she wondered why my younger brother had a crush on her since forever. It's because they are practically spirit animals—meddling and all.

Personal space? Privacy? Nope, none of that is clearly found in Sailor's vocabulary.

I shifted my checklist to prop my elbow on the cold vanity surface. Sailor scoffed, indifferent to the show we were binge-watching. "Who cares? If I had a nickel for every time we've watched this scene, we'd be golfing with Bill Gates."

"All right, all right," I relented. "Spit it out."

"Boston."

"What about him?"

The phone turns a full ninety degrees and I am faced with search bar history. There were hundreds of other Bostons, Youngs, and so forth. But there was no Boston Young in the field of Journalism. Automatically, I freaked out a little. Not only did Boston ghost the dating site, but he'd left a void where his digital footprint should be.

I tried not to jump to conclusions, but deep down, I wondered if I was the reason for his sudden disappearance after our brief flirtation.

I would be flattered if I wasn't so worried about telling Sailor what could be the reason. I've dragged this secret for a whole week, and it was time to wash off my hands and come clean.

Sailor flopped back onto the thick comforter and shut off her phone. "Am I not capable of finding love?"

"Sailor, don't be so hard on yourself. You'll find someone."

"At this rate, I won't," she muttered, her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek. "I'm going to end up sad and alone like you."

Ouch. That one stung, especially coming from my best friend.

Is this what my life has come to? Did anyone believe I was truly happy being young and single?

Brushing off the insult, I began to plead my case. "First of all, I'm never alone because as long as we are both single, all we have are each other. And secondly, I want to be single. You know this."

"Lately, it's been really hard to believe."

My mom, my dad, my brother, and even the receptionist believed that after my shift, I would indulge in eating a pint of cookie dough ice cream and the saltiest popcorn known to mankind while I binge-watched romantic movies for three days straight. They imagined me secretly crying over scenes, wishing I could be one of those girls who falls in love with a handsome millionaire or a sexy mafia boss from Sicily.

Truth is, I do have those fantasies.

However, I have come to accept the harsh truth that these types of love stories only happen in movies, and my reality isn't like that.