13
I barely registered the next few hours. A suffocating ache settled in my chest, heavy and cold.
“Chloe, I have to go,” I whispered, unable to endure another second. “The terrier mix at the shelter might be in labor. I need to go clip the umbilical cord.”
After quickly excusing myself from a few acquaintances, I grabbed my bag and slipped out.
had to be the high concentration of carbon dioxide in there, that’s why I felt so unwell. I kept trying to convince myself, while simultaneously searching frantically for an exit. An hour later, I was definitively lost.
I pulled out my phone, ready to make a call, when I suddenly bumped into someone around a corner. “Oh, excuse-” The rest of my apology died in my throat as I looked up. “Cole Miller…”
I was mortified. I’d been trying to avoid him, and here I was, practically running into him.
He raised an eyebrow, as aloof and dismissive as the first day we met. “Problem?”
“Mr. Miller!” Someone called from down the hallway. He gave me one fleeting glance and walked away.
I was about to leave when the comments exploded: [Oh, don’t act all cold! He totally saw you on the backstage monitor and came to ‘accidentally‘ run into you,] [I bet you, big sister, if you just call out to him, he’ll come running back and lead you out.] [You people in the comments are insane! Leave our sweet Lily alone! She finally got a confession from the male lead, and now he’s just pure trash!]
“Cole Miller,” I called out, compelled by some strange impulse. “Wait for me!”
He paused, but didn’t turn back. I stood there until my legs ached, realizing the comments had been dead wrong. This was truly over.
A few minutes later, a server approached me. “Ms. Hayes? The exit is this way.
Back home, my mind replayed the gala scene. I remembered seeing Cole’s left hand trembling, a tell–tale sign of his pre–stress response. For some reason, I found myself increasingly worried about him, unable to sleep the entire night.
