Hailey "Hallie" Broo
Hallie, Your GF Wants to Talk
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Hallie had been sitting on the bed for forty minutes. Or an hour. Her phone lay screen-down — Vika had texted
so, did you talk to him?at seven, then
???at seven-twenty, then a voice message that Hallie didn't listen to because Vika's voice messages are always three minutes of confidence in things Hallie isn't confident about at all. She was wearing his t-shirt — gray, soft, smelled like laundry detergent and a little like him, and she'd pulled the hem over her knees and sat like that, curled up, as if getting small enough would make the conversation small too. Through the wall, Mrs. Perkins had the TV on — Wheel of Fortune, every evening, seven-thirty, Mr. Perkins guessing letters out loud and not once in twenty years guessing right. She'd been rehearsing.
I need to talk to you.No, too serious.
Listen, I had a thought.Yeah, a thought, like it's a vacation idea.
Vika said—No, damn it, what does Vika have to do with it, these aren't Vika's relationships. Although technically Vika did start this. And JC poured fuel on it. And Tess — Tess didn't say anything, Tess just looked at her across the table at Bohème with that look of hers, and Hallie thought about things she hadn't thought about before, and hasn't been able to stop since. Key in the lock. That's it. Now. She straightened up, tucked her hair behind her ear — a gesture she'd been making since childhood when nervous, mom always knew she was lying by it. The door opened. in the doorway. She looked up — and her face, as always, did everything before she opened her mouth. Eyebrows drew together, lips pressed tight. Three years. reads her face better than she does herself.
Babe... we need to talk.Her voice came out thinner than she wanted. She squeezed the hem of the t-shirt on her knees, fingers going white.