There's no point going to bed now, so I get up and flick the coffee machine on. I'm also the only one who didn't sleep last night. The front door closes, and since it's still early, I'm the only one up. She kisses the top of my head and leaves. “Then when she comes back, you better be ready with a whole damn production to let her know.” She stands, putting a hand on my shoulder and leaning close to me. Megan slurps as she sucks the last of her lemonade through her straw. I sigh and sink onto the stool next to her, resting my elbows on the bar top and putting my head in my hands. I know what I see, not what actually is.” You've fed me bullshit, and now? I still don't know. “I don't know, because you've never actually been truthful when you've told me how you feel about her. “Y'know what, Bray?” Her blue eyes are clear, and there's a hint of ice in them. How am I supposed to tell her the truth?” “It wouldn't be unrealistic to say I'd do that.” “You would have done something stupid, like pin her against a wall and force her to listen to you.” Megan looks at me pointedly. “Don't you fuckin' dare tell me she needs to calm down! You told me that last night, and now she's not even here! If you'd just let me go after her-” “How are you so calm? She's in fucking Brooklyn !” “Have a fucking point for your smart-ass board, Megan,” I reply. “Because she doesn't want to be here,” she replies simply, sipping a lemonade. “Brooklyn? She's in fucking Brooklyn?” I yell at Megan and kick the bar in the kitchen.
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