Chapter 7
Rachel
“Eat your pancakes.” The obsession my friend has with pancakes at this point is ridiculous.
I hate breakfast, but every Sunday, Noah insists on making them.
And sometimes Saturdays and Fridays too.
We spend too much time with each other. He stays here more than he is at his own apartment.
I would too if my apartment weren't bigger than my closet, but still. A girl sometimes needs her personal space. One of those times is now because Noah wants to eat breakfast and make small talk while I want to scroll through Kai’s Instagram and find out as much as I can about him.
“I'm good with just coffee,” I say without looking up from my phone.
“Are you stalking Kai?” That’s rude. Why would you assume that, Noah? I would never.
“No. It’s not stalking if the feed is public, right?” I continue my doom-scroll through this man’s photos.
“When was this picture posted?” Noah asks as he stands over me, watching me observe a picture of Kai with a woman.
She is a pretty woman in her mid-twenties with a beautiful smile and long eyelashes.
She wears a bikini, and they are at a beach.
He smiles next to her with his arm draped over her shoulder. It’s clear they are not just friends.
“Summer of 2015.” Still, not stalking. I just like looking at old photos.
“Yeah, you are stalking the poor man, Rachel,” Noah jokes as he takes the coffee pot, filling both of our mugs.
“Okay, fine, I might be stalking him a little.” He chuckles and winks at me before he takes a sip of his coffee.
I zoom in on the photo, trying to determine if this woman could still be in Kai’s life.
I am looking at every little detail, zooming in and out to check everything I might have missed when my finger slips, and instead of zooming in, I double-tap the damn photo. Fuck. “No. No. No. Damn it.”
“What? What happened?” Noah frantically tries to figure out what happened. He grabs my phone from my hand, and there it is—the little red heart where an empty one should be under the picture. “Oh, fuck. You liked the picture.”
“I liked the picture,” I repeat, because how stupid am I to like the damn picture?
My phone buzzes right on cue, and Noah opens the message. He reads it out loud. “Biker boy: Are we stalking my Instagram now, little criminal?” Of course, he saw the notification. Kill me now. “Someone is smart.” Noah, I swear to God, I will murder you.
I snatch my phone back and look at the message. Then another one appears.
Biker boy: Don’t worry about her, criminal. She is long out of the picture.
Noah is standing behind me, looking over my shoulder reading the same message.
“At least we now know she is not a problem.” Well, he is not wrong. That’s at least a good thing.
“I wasn’t worrying about her anyway. He is free to fuck and date whoever he wants.” I set my phone on the table and take a sip from my coffee as if it will fix everything.
“Yes, you were.” Why is my best friend such an asshole today?
“Okay, I was a little worried,” I admit.
“That’s my best friend.” Noah laughs, and I laugh with him because each morning we live through since we met Kai is more ridiculous than the next.
I read Kai’s message again. That little reassurance he offered, displayed on the screen, is the sexiest thing he could have done in this situation.
I love a man who doesn’t mince his words and doesn’t hide behind lies.
He could have pretended it never happened.
He could have not commented on the specific photo I liked.
He could have never addressed the woman in it, yet...
he chose to do all of the above. Because he doesn’t mince his words.
That’s one thing I like about the stranger I allowed to enter my life.