Rye
RyeGod, I was an asshole. After the elevator whisked Lauren away, I had to figure out my next move. I went onto the little balcony. The humidity assaulted my skin. I felt dirty. I shouldn"t have been so harsh to her. Whatever Glee did back then—and I wasn"t sure of anything any more—Lauren wasn"t to blame.
Before I forgot the number Lauren had rattled off, I logged it into my phone. I should text her. Apologize. No, I should wait until she cooled off.
What did it matter anyway? This was a "business arrangement."
Yeah, right. This wasn"t business; it was red-hot emotion and chemistry. Already I missed the feel of her.
Before I could change my mind, I fired off a text.
Sorry. I"m an ass.
Sorry. I"m an ass.I almost added, "forgive"? But I wasn"t quite there yet.
My phone rang. Not
