“You stole my shirt!” And because I was getting flooded with everything happening, the question blurted out of me. While both those events were hitting me at once, the third was what shirt Newt was wearing-my Reese Forster shirt.
So, hence the gulp, because none of them had called for at least six years. It was more the group of people he represented, a group that I left in my dust years ago. That far back, and while the person calling me was a guy, he wasn’t a romantic guy. I gulped because the person calling was a blast from my past, like my way early past before Lucas, before the guy I was using Lucas to get over, before even him. I glanced at it, half hoping it was Luc-ass, but it wasn’t.
The message was being delivered from Newt, my boyfriend’s-no, my very, very recent ex-boyfriend’s-grandfather, while I was standing on his doorstep. Those were the words I heard as three things were happening at once. “Lucas is busy forking his new girlfriend, but if you’re feeling vengeful, I can pop in my dentures.”
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