And then I finally answer my own question. I slowly pull up my phone and search through my e-mails, looking for an address I wrote to once. Now that I know who that mailbox belongs to, it is way more nerve-racking to be writing her without resorting to any of my fanboy thoughts.

She also, apparently, is getting ready to put on a one-woman show, so what are the chances she’ll even respond?

But I have to try.

CHAPTER 36 - ZOEY

CHAPTER 36

ZOEY

Today’s coffee shop, Hole in One, is seventeen blocks from the apartment, half of which I walked and half of which I rode the subway to get to. I haven’t been to any café more than once since Miles ghosted me. I’m expanding my horizons block by block, widening the circumference of my explorations, and I’ve been keeping vampire’s hours to minimize our chances of coming across each other in the building or on the street. I even slept at Mary’s a couple of times to dodge him.

Two days ago, I saw him on the High Line, zipping toward me in his Adidas tracksuit, and without thinking, I lifted my hand in a wave. Turned out it wasn’t Miles after all, and I don’t know why seeing a stranger run past felt like losing him all over again, but it did.

I still feel dizzy each time I descend into the darkened tunnels of the subway, and my heart still speeds up at the roar of an approaching train, but the difference is that now I don’t let it stop me.

Hole in One is not, as I’d assumed, a golf-themed restaurant begging to be ripped off by Clifford, but a doughnut joint.

A message from Mary chimes in.

Contrary, Quite: Congrats on “Radioactive Wolves of San Francisco.”

(That’s the script I’ll be doctoring for Night-Light Films.)

Zoey: Thank you! Aw-ooooooh

Contrary, Quite: Aw-oooooh! Where u at, as the kids say (or did once)

I do a pin drop on Google Maps at Hole in One.

Zoey: You nearby?

Contrary, Quite: No, but I have a special delivery headed your way.

Zoey: Noooooo. Leaving now!

Contrary, Quite: Nothing illegal, I swear. Promise me you’ll sit tight till it arrives.

I’m at a small table in the back, enjoying a cinnamon twist and e-signing a contract with Night-Light, when I see him walk in.

Oh no.