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way. That would be stupid. I knew I’d get mugged—again. I learned my lesson pretty quickly.
    When I walked down the steps , I saw a group of girls crowd around a man. He wore dark jeans and a plain t-shirt. He looked too young to be the assistant director, but there was no doubt it was he. I could tell by the headset he held in his hand. The girls were chatting with him, and he smiled and nodded along.
    He was really hot. I’d give him that.
    But seeing the smirk on his face as the girls drowned him in attention made me sick. He was just like all the others, sleeping with the dancers he preferred while offering to give them a prime spot in the show.
    Disgusting.
    I walked out and headed home, feeling more alone than I ever had.
     
    After watching a stupid chick flick that left me in tears, I turned off the TV and stared out the window of my tiny apartment. My kitchen and living room were a single space. My bed was in the corner and I had a single dresser. It was small even for a studio, but it was all I could afford. And I was fine with that. Cortland never commented on the small enclosure. When I invited him over, he didn’t try to get me to go to his place instead.
    My phone vibrated so I glanced at the screen, wondering who it was.
    Chinese for dinner, baby?
    It was Kyle. The first time he did this, I thought the message was meant for me. That he missed me and was sorry for the mistake he made. But when I responded, I quickly realized he texted me on accident. It was meant for his new girlfriend.
    And this message was meant for her too.
    I deleted the message and tried to forget I even saw it. Baby? He used to call me that. Now I was forgotten. He knew how much he hurt me. Could he just take an extra second out of his day and make sure he sent the message to the right person? Or better yet, just delete me?
    Furious, I pulled my phone out. Delete my number. Please. I suspected his new girlfriend’s name started with an H.
    God, I’m sorry , Hazel. It was an accident.
    Just reading a message he wrote me made me want to hurl. I constantly felt sick when I thought about him. And what made it worse was, deep down inside, I still missed him. Just delete me.
    How are you doing?
    Is he trying to torture me? I’m well. Now delete me . I was too proud to admit I was a total wreck. I would never tell him I missed him. I would act like everything was just fine until the end of time. If he expected me to cry over the breakup, forget it. If he expected me to beg him to take me back, it wasn’t going to happen. Forget it. He was the asshole, not me.
    When he didn’t message me again, I was relieved.
    But then my phone lit up again. I was going to throw this damn thing at the wall. I opened the message and saw a number I didn’t recognize.
    Hey, Hazel. It’s Monnique.
    I wasn’t expecting that. Hey. What else was I supposed to say?
    I was hoping we could meet up somewhere and talk .
    God, I hoped she wasn’t going to scratch my eyes out and tell me to leave her boyfriend alone. I had enough drama in my life right now. Okay.
    Want to head to the coffee shop on fifth?
    Now?
    Or whenever you have time.
    I guess it was better to get it over with as soon as possible. I’ll be there in ten.
    K.
     
    She was already sitting in a booth when I arrived. A cup was between her hands. She wore a jean jacket over a yellow dress. When she looked at me, I couldn’t read her expression. I checked her nails to see how sharp they were. After a horrible day, I just wanted some peace and quiet. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get it.
    “Hi, ” I said awkwardly. I sat across from her.
    “Hi.” She cupped her glass.
    What do I do now…? “Does Cortland know you’re here?”
    “No,” she sai d quietly. “And I’d prefer it if he didn’t find out.”
    That depends. I doubt he’d be happy if he knew we were having this meeting. Only bad would come from it.
    “I just wanted to clear the air between us,” she explained. “It’s