Forevermore

Thirteen

When I completely wake up, I quickly realize that I'm still in Atlanta and it doesn't take long for the memories to slam into me. Good thing I've been left alone in the bedroom because I've got no clue what my face is doing right now. Somewhere between grimacing and smiling and probably blushing. Never mind the few giggles that manage to escape through my throat.

Yesterday. Our hours-long conversation last night. The dream.

My heart stops.

The dream.

Was any of it real? Did I...oh no. Did I cozy up with Ezra in the middle of the night?

Mortification drills through my body at the thought. Despite the borderline interrogation about my love life, I know he doesn't actually see himself with me. Not when he could get any girl he wants.

We did talk about his past girlfriends last night and that conversation felt like it stretched out an eternity. Four different girlfriends since freshman year. Four. I'm not sure why, but that intimidates me. A lot. And there's no way he would want me of all people.

If we did end up...cuddling, I can only hope that he was also asleep and forgot that it even happened. Though, I have to admit, I didn't mind being wrapped up in those strong, large–

"Rise and shine," my dad's sarcastic tone greets me as he steps into the bedroom. "I know it's a weekend, but you're up bright and late."

I sit up, wiping the exhaustion–and memories–out of my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Ten."

My eyes widen before I remember: time zones. "That's only seven in Washington."

"I gave you the Washington time."

Again, my eyes go wide. I really underestimated how late I stayed up with Ezra last night. "Oh."

He scans the floor of the room, his eyebrows slightly raising. "Thank you for packing all your stuff up already. Do you want to come with us to lunch?"

Packing all my stuff up?

Last I checked, my clothes were stacked on top of my suitcase and the belongings in my carry-on were all over the room, but one glance tells me that my dad is right.

Ezra must've done that while I was asleep.

"I think I'll just stay here," I say, sitting up. "Can you bring me back something, though?"

Dad nods. "Text me an order. Love you."

"I love you too," I reply as he closes the door.

After looking around the room, I spot my phone at the foot of the bed. I pick it up and turn it on, being greeted with dozens of messages.

Most of them from the group chat from last night.

Losers

Linh Chau: [IMG.8920] [IMG.7643] [MP3.432]

Linh Chau: Indi...I thought youd probably want to know that these are out there

I click the unloaded files–two photos and a video–and wait for them to process. My breath catches in my throat when I see them.

The video isn't that bad. It captures the minor grimace on my dad's face as he signed that guy's shoes at the diner. But the photos? Much worse.

Someone found our AirBnB.

One of the pictures is of me, Dad, and Ezra walking up the driveway after the game. The other picture is from the street behind the backyard. I'm sitting next to Ezra on the ledge of the pool. And the smile on my face...it's a little too bright for comfort, though that's not what I'm focused on.