Hooked #2 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 2) by Claire Adams Page B

that they had even
signed up for MY class over everyone else’s.) They wouldn’t be paying; I was
out several hundred. But I didn’t care.
    My diet of macaroni and cheese and wine at noon
continued on into the week. Drew continued to text me, but I felt like I read
all of his words in a clouded haze of depression. I had already begun to think
about moving back to Indiana. What would my life be like? Would I have to admit
to everyone that I had failed, that I had done nothing with my life? Would I
have to admit that Molly—prima ballerina—was really just a dumpy woman who ate
too much macaroni?
    I called Melanie a few days later on Thursday. She
seemed forlorn, nearly afraid of me on the phone. “Have you gone in to get your
stuff?” I asked her. My eyes blinked heavily as I spoke. I wondered if I would
ever feel normal again.
    Melanie sighed. “So. There’s really no convincing
you to fight this, is there?”
    “I don’t really see the point,” I told her.
    “Come on. Meet me out. You need a drink more than
anyone I’ve ever known.”
    I looked down at my nearly empty wine bottle and
noted I had several others lined up on the counter. I was perfectly fine on my
own. “I can’t, Mel. There’s too much to do here.” My voice was lined with
sincerity. I hummed my apologies. She knew I was lying; of course she did. But
there was nothing she could do.
    “At least call that Drew fellow. At least go sleep
with someone. I know it was doing you wonders before this all—happened,”
Melanie said impatiently.
    But I shook my head. “No, no. I just lied to him the
entire time. He thinks I’m looking for PR work. I can’t imagine dating anyone
right now with all this in my head. You know?”
    Melanie couldn’t understand. Why would she, anyway?
She was happily married, a baby eternally on her hip. I longed to be with her,
to hold her baby, to laugh with her in her brightly-lit kitchen. But I
couldn’t. All the happiness I had once had seemed far away from me,
unreachable.

 
    CHAPTER
TWO
    On Friday night, the Chicago air ripped up a few
degrees in temperature—enough to allow me to take my drinking outside. At
around five in the afternoon, I dragged myself out to my balcony, looking up at
the still sunlit day. I sighed, feeling the sun as it rippled across my face. I
had showered that day, feeling a sense of hope as I did so, as I smeared away
the grease and the grime. I took a long sip from my wine and allowed my head to
lean back between the posts.
    My phone began to buzz on my lap. I picked it up
languidly and looked at the number. I saw it was Drew once more. I wasn’t
surprised, of course. He had been ringing me almost every day since I hadn’t
responded to him nearly four days ago. I wasn’t sure why such an attractive,
confident man like that had continued to pursue me. At this rate, it all seemed
a little cartoony—like he wasn’t actually real, just an enigma I had created in
my head to get me through the “tough times.”
    The phone began to ring again. I looked at it,
noting how strange the buzz felt against my leg—almost like the buzz created in
my head from the wine. Suddenly, I heard a squeal, a squeak. Somebody from the
nearby balcony around the corner was coming outside. I hadn’t had any human
interaction in days, and I heard the tremors of their male voices. I relished
them, even though I knew they would create their ravenous dick-measuring
conversation about fucking women. Whatever.
    But then the voice began. It was the same voice as
before; the same voice that had mentioned he had fucked several different women
in the past few weeks. But the voice seemed frustrated, this time. Constrained.
“God!” the voice called into the wind.
    His buddy was right there. “Hey. Calm down, man. You
seem stressed. Have a beer.”
    I heard him pop the top from his bottle. “I can’t
believe she hasn’t been answering my calls, my messages. Nothing.”
    “Man. Bitches are crazy. You know