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The Call
I haven’t heard from Dean Stark since the night I caught him with that trashy girl. The memory still stings, a sharp reminder of betrayal that I thought I had buried beneath layers of indifference. Nine weeks had passed since that fateful night, and I had convinced myself that I was better off without him. But now, as I sat in the passenger seat of Leo’s car, the phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket, a persistent reminder of the unresolved tension that lingered between us. “Are you really not going to answer your phone?” Leo asked, glancing at me with a mix of concern and curiosity. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he turned back to the road, the engine humming steadily beneath us. “Whoever it is really wants to talk to you, since they won’t stop calling.” I shrugged, trying to play
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