Find Me I'm Yours by Hillary Carlip Page B

say.” He closed the door with something less than a slam, but more than a “Later!”
    â€œWhat’s the point?” I asked, dejected, as we walked back to Coco’s car.
    â€œAGREE!” Coco replied. “And not because someone who might be more traditionally pretty than you is competition—you’re way hotter in a way cooler way than any Victoria’s Secret S model S !”
    So happy Coco caught the man’s all plurals and brought ’em back. It made me laugh, which I needed big-time at that point.
    â€œAny guy will see you’re adorable, smart, artful and HEART-full. I just think you should stop the hunt and focus on REAL people who won’t kill you,” Coco said.
    I was quiet on the whole ride home. Coco was right. And Blake was right, too. I had been too hard on Jason. That site was fckin’ unbelievable. He obviously still loved me. And I still loved him. Did I keep saying no and pushing him away just out of fear I could get hurt again, when I was hurting even more not being with him?
    Maybe now I fckedup.com, and it was time for an apology of my own.

Chapter 12
    DAY 2—NIGHT
    Midnight smelled of jasmine and carnitas. (Sounds like a law firm I could never be a receptionist at if I had to answer, “Jasmine and Carnitas, may I help you?”) The fragrant air is one of the pluses of riding a scooter, especially late at night. That and the balmy, almost tropical L.A. breeze seductively massaging my face into a happy ending. Drawbacks of riding a scooter, especially during the day? People don’t really need to be subjected to my ass-spread.

    Like it had an internal homing device, I found Lola taking me somewhere quite familiar. Jason’s apartment in Echo Park. I was finally ready to forgive him, and that couldn’t be done in a text. Besides, makeup sex after one month, one week, five days was bound to be stellar.
    I knocked on his door. It didn’t occur to me that he might not be home. If that were the case, I’d sit on his stoop (why do they even call them “porches” in L.A.?!) till he came back. I knocked once more, and the door finally creaked open.
    â€œMags? What are you doing here?”
    Wrapped around Jason’s waist was the quilt I made for him in a bad attempt to be crafty. (It was at that time I clearly experienced the difference between art and craft and realized talent in one does not necessarily equate skillz in the other!) Seeing him in it made me melt even more.
    â€œI’m here to accept your apology. HELL YEAH!” I quoted from his site. “And give you one of my own. I’m so sorry I’ve been so harsh, and I’m so sorry you kept asking for my forgiveness, and I just kept pushing you away. I’m ready to try again to make it work.”
    I leaned in and kissed him, giving him everything that I hadn’t been able to in weeks.
    He pulled away. “Seriously? After what you said last night? I mean, you left me there…”
    â€œI know, I felt I had to protect myself. But I realized I don’t need to do that with you anymore.”
    â€œWow.”
    I
think
Jason was happy. Actually, he seemed more dumbfounded. In fact, a little freaked out. And then it hit me. A feeling of heat rising. Like I ordered a burrito with mild salsa, and they stuffed it with one hundred of the hottest jalapeños in all of Mexico.
    Jason wasn’t alone.
    â€œWait, really?! Are you kidding me?!?!” I pushed past him. He grabbed my arm and tried to stop me, which gave me extra Wonder Woman brute strength. Nothing could hold me back as I headed to what was once our bedroom. Was he at it with my neighbor again? Or some new, random girl who was taller, thinner, and prettier than me? Or worse, what if she was artier or quirkier??
    I threw open the bedroom door. OH. MY. GOD. The breath was sucker punched out of me.
    In OUR bed, on MY side… spilling out of MY tiny-cupped