Brendon stopped under a streetlamp three blocks away from the restaurant. The vibration in his pocket was constant now. Gloria was blowing up his phone with a frantic mix of insults and demands.
YOU LEFT ME THERE!
I HAD TO USE MY EMERGENCY CREDIT CARD!
MY FATHER IS GOING TO HEAR ABOUT THIS!
ANSWER ME!
Brendon watched the bubbles pop up on the screen, one after another. He felt nothing. The "Simp" was dead. He had been a costume he'd worn to hide the bruises on his soul, and the fabric had finally shredded.
He tapped on her contact. Gloria Talley.
He swiped left. A red button appeared: Delete.
He didn't just delete her. He tapped the small 'i' in the corner. He scrolled to the bottom. Block this Caller.
The system asked for confirmation. You will not receive phone calls, messages, or FaceTime from people on the block list.
"Good," Brendon whispered. He tapped the button.
Then he went to Instagram. Unfollow. Remove Follower. Block.
TikTok. Block.
Snapchat. Block.
It was a digital execution. He was erasing her from his reality, one app at a time. A group of college kids walked past him, laughing, one of them pointing at him and whispering something about "the guy who bought the billboard for the Zeta formal."
Brendon ignored them. He knew his reputation. He was the rich kid who had lost his mind over a girl who didn't want him.
The truth was much worse. He had lost his mind over a girl who had wanted him, and then he'd let her slip through his fingers because his world had caught fire.
He hadn't pursued Gloria because he loved her. He had pursued her because she was the opposite of everything Kiera Richards was. Gloria was loud where Kiera was quiet. Gloria was fake where Kiera was painfully, beautifully real.
Being with Gloria was a form of self-harm. Every time she belittled him, every time she used him for his money, it felt like a payment for the sin of leaving Kiera without a word.
But he couldn't do it anymore. The penance was over.
A notification banner dropped from the top of his screen. It wasn't a text. It was an email from Luxury Living Brokers.
Subject: Welcome to The Kensington - Unit 4B Ready for Move-in.
Brendon felt a flicker of something resembling hope. He had applied for the off-campus apartment weeks ago, desperate to escape the frat house. The brothers at Sigma Chi were great for distractions, but they were terrible for healing. He needed a place where he didn't have to hear the thumping of bass at 3 AM or smell stale beer in the hallways.
He hit reply. Moving in tonight. Send the digital key code.
He hailed an Uber Black. Within twenty minutes, he was standing in the hallway of the Sigma Chi house. The air smelled like Pine-Sol and regret.
"Yo, Hampton! Thought you were staying at Gloria's tonight," Chad, his roommate, shouted from the couch. He was holding a PlayStation controller, his eyes glued to the TV.
Brendon didn't stop. He went straight to his room and yanked his Tumi suitcases out from the closet. He threw them open on the bed and began pulling clothes from drawers and hangers, stuffing them inside with a frantic, chaotic energy.
"I'm moving out, Chad," Brendon said, dragging the half-zipped bags into the common room.
Chad paused the game. "What? Tonight? Did the Queen finally kick you out of the palace?"
"I'm done with the Queen," Brendon said, his voice steady. "And I'm done with this house. I need some space."
Chad snorted. "Space. Right. You'll be back in two days when you realize nobody here is going to cook for you."
"I'll manage," Brendon said.
He didn't say goodbye. He just walked out the door, the wheels of his suitcases rattling against the hardwood floor.
The Uber was waiting at the curb. As the car pulled away from the frat house, Brendon looked back at the Greek letters glowing in the dark. He felt like he was leaving a version of himself behind-the version that needed to be humiliated to feel alive.
"The Kensington," he told the driver.
He leaned his head against the cool leather of the seat. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a life where he didn't wake up reaching for a ghost.
"New start," he muttered to himself. "No Gloria. No drama. Just me."
He didn't mention Kiera's name. He wasn't brave enough for that yet.
