Page 73 of While You Were Trending

“Harvesting tonight,” he says as he pauses on the bottom step.

“I heard.”

He nods to the tablet in my lap. “You on the internet?”

“No.”

Yes.

I’ve been texting Ten and Caro—mostly Ten, who keeps going back to our group chat to bug Caro on her honeymoon—but I’ve also peeked at socials to see how much I’m trending.

And I have regrets.

“Flow was good today,” I tell Declan in response to the squinty-eyedyou’re lyinglook he’s giving me. “Thank you for letting her hang out with me.”

“Anytime.”

“You should go get a nap—” I start as he says, “About last night?—”

We stop and look at each other.

Flow whimper-whines, rises, shakes herself off, and trots down the stairs to nudge Declan’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

My heart squeezes like it’s trying to strangle itself. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to make things awkward. But I couldn’t live with myself if you thought I hated you.”

“We’re good,” I say.

He studies me like he can see all of the things I’m not saying.

That itisawkward.

That we’renotgood.

That Idofeel something.

Not that what I feel is attraction.

It’s a desperation that always blossoms whenever anyone shows the slightest interest in me.

When so much of the world hates you, and when you sometimes wonder if your own mother isn’t functionally capable of loving you, it’s easy to lap up the table scraps.

And then not trust that it’s truly love.

That’s why I imploded my own life. Why I broke up with Alex.

I thought he loved me the way my mother loved me. Because I was a good plot point in his life story. Because I brought him attention. Because I was useful and helpful and always willing to go out of my way to make him love me, on or off camera.

And now, I don’t trust myself to tell the difference between the kind of love my mother always gave me and the kind of love that’s real.

That?

That’s not Declan’s fault.

“Olivia and Samantha are making harvest dinner,” I say into the silence that’s settling between us again while he rubs Flow on the head. His dog’s hair looks just as good as his always does. Did. Does. He’s cut it shorter now, but it still looks good. “You and Shade should be there. Good fuel to get through the night.”