Chapter 12

12

28 years old - Nick

W hat. The. Actual. Fuck? Of all of the places I thought I would be bumping into Bryce Simmons again, I never thought it would be at a fucking job interview in Berlin. I grip the whiskey glass tightly as if it is the only thing holding me back from unleashing years' worth of pent-up anger. The last time I saw him was a decade ago.

After everything went down, the rumor mill started churning like crazy and I wanted no part of it. Since I couldn't avoid the things people asked me about the sudden disappearance of Lily and Bryce, I decided to do the one thing that I could control; block both of them on my phone on every single platform available. Not that they bothered to message me, anyway.

My phone dings, and the sound fills up the empty hotel bar. It's a work contract from XIORI Technologies. Jakob Ackermann, the CEO of the tech start-up turned unicorn, called me this morning to officially offer me the job. I should be feeling happier than I actually am right now. I have worked extremely hard for this, after all. Not only is this a step up compared to my current position, but the salary listed on the contract is double what I make now. But all I can think about is Bryce and his stupid face. Massaging my temples, I open the email attachment and scroll through the contract on my phone.

My eyes widen when I actually see my name written on the legal document. I knew it was a pretty done deal, and they just wanted to invite me to the office out of formality and to do their final check, but I'm not going to lie; when I saw Bryce I was pretty sure he was going to sabotage the whole thing. That man is a fucking wolf in sheep's clothing.

I make my way toward the revolving door, needing some air and a smoke. The bartender nods to me in understanding that he should add the whiskey and the other drinks before that to the tab I have for my room. I know day drinking is frowned upon, but hey, I just got my dream job! I'm fucking celebrating.

Leaning on the brick wall of the hotel building, I remove the cigarette pack from my jeans and use my free hand to get my phone from my back pocket. I type in Bryce's name on the only platform I haven't blocked him on—LinkedIn. We didn't use this as teenagers. He had hid himself well until now.

He looked as ambushed as I was yesterday when they called him spontaneously after hearing "Elsham Cove" come out of my mouth. We both pretended not to know each other, doing a dance of fake smiles and small talk. I always fantasized about what I would do if I ever met him again—politely talking about my hometown over Thai food was not one of them. By the time my meeting was over, the key account executive was conveniently pulled into another motherfucking appointment.

According to his profile, he has been working for the company since he received his master's degree from the Humboldt-Universit?t zu Berlin. I look away from the screen and inhale the nicotine, my mind trying to process what I just read. Bryce has been here in Berlin the whole time. Based on the timeline on his profile, he left for Germany directly after his bachelor's program at Radinger wrapped up.

Does that mean she's also here? She wouldn't be . Her goal was always to go to Paris with Radinger as Plan B. She's nothing if not determined. Everything doesn't make sense, though. There were thousands of rumors circulating after everything exploded, with the most popular theory among our gossipers being that Bryce followed her to wherever she went to college.

Why has he been in Berlin the whole time, then? Lily had never mentioned anything about Germany. She might have fucked me over and humiliated me, but I knew her when it came to this. Paris was always the ultimate goal.

Before my inner detective can start solving the puzzle, my phone dings again. Bryce just sent me a request to connect on LinkedIn. Shit. I lock my phone and frantically slip it back inside my back pocket, not wanting to deal with this. My drunk ass forgot that on the platform, people know when I'm lurking on their profile, since I never bothered to turn off this setting. I grimace and scream, "Fuck!" loud enough to shock the fellow smoker standing next to me. Deciding to process whatever I need to process right now alone, I march back inside, go up the elevator, and go straight to my room.

I get my phone out again—courtesy of liquid courage from before. There is a message notification below the connection request this time.

Bryce Simmons

I'd say congrats on the job, but we both know that's not why I'm contacting you. We need to talk.

Sober Nick would ignore the message and deal with Bryce in three months at the start of his work contract. Hell, my contract says I only need to be physically present in the office once a week. I might even be able to avoid Bryce and this overdue conversation altogether if I play my cards right. Do I even care what he has to say? It's been years, honestly. Sober Nick would lie to himself and say no. Drunk Nick, however, is a beast of his own, and clearly an emotional sadomasochist.

Fck off, Brycr

u took hr from me

Tou Freew Tonorrow?

Bryce Simmons

You mentioned you were staying at the Ravensberger Hotel. I'll come and get you tomorrow at nine. Is that enough time for you to sleep it off and sober up?

K

I lock my phone and throw it to the bed before lying down next to it. I hear my pulse throbbing and feel the alcohol coursing through my veins. Thoughts run through my brain at one hundred miles an hour. Thoughts that I haven't allowed myself to think about in a very long time. Thoughts that I try to drown out with alcohol, drugs, and women I don't fucking care about.

Sober Nick would blame seeing Bryce for this lapse of judgment, but drunk Nick knows better than to rationalize the thoughts. Drunk Nick is familiar with moments like these—nights and days after he has done everything in his power to forget about her, forget about them, only for the thoughts to come fucking crawling right back out once he is alone.