.

.

The phone in my back pocket rings and I pull it out to see a new number pop up.

Who could it be? I think to myself.

Seriously? Someone designed your phone so surely he would remember to save your number.

Rory.

I press the answer button and place the phone to my ear. “Hello,” I say in a low voice.

“Hello, love.” Comes Rory’s huskily deep voice, and that seems to smoothen my angry and blue mood. “Everything okay? You sound kind of moody.”

“After the stunt, you pulled on me this morning by running away. Don’t even think I’m going to tell you anything.”

I hear...