Chapter 11: Chapter 11

So what if I had forgotten to exchange phone numbers with the man? I never thought I’d thank Willowby for anything, but one major advantage of a small town was, when searching for someone, there were few places for them to hide. One couldn’t blend into one’s surroundings very well when most everyone knew everyone else; they became the personification of my jock strap trying to hide among my T-shirts at the Laundromat. Plus, Gray had given me more than enough information to track him down. He’d just moved into a place on Maple Street—in total, a whopping five short blocks of residences—and one of his jobs was playing piano several nights at Logan’s Hideaway over in Chandler’s Grove.

If he hadn’t been interested in me, he wouldn’t have flirted up a storm, right? He wouldn’t have divulged tidbits about his residence and place of employment, right? He wouldn’t have instigated the hot and heavy kiss to cap off the evening, right?

Right?