I’m nearing the end of my patrol shift when I hear a noise behind me. My mind immediately jumps to Isabel. Actually, it doesn’t even need to jump. It’s been on her for the last forty-eight hours, ever since our date ended.
But while the noise is coming from a girl, it isn’t Isabel.
It’s Christina.
My ex.
I have to swallow a groan at the sight of her.
“Hey James,” she says, sidling up to me and assaulting me with her sickeningly sweet vanilla perfume. It’s so overpowering that I have to stifle a cough, and I long for Isabel’s subtle, signature scent.
“Hey Chris,” I grumble, stepping away and trying to put as much distance as possible between us.
“Miss me?” she asks, twirling one of her long blonde curls around her pointer finger.
She knows the answer is “no,” because I told her
