The name choice is a leftover from a lifetime ago, when I was feeling weak in the aftermath of the breakup, and Olivia helpfully changed Jordy’s contact name as a reminder.

And it fucking sucks, because now I feel like I’m in trouble with my phone.

It’s so not even fair, because this is Jordy contacting me, not the other way around. But still, the flashing name feels more like an accusation than a notification.

Failure!

Failure!

Failure who deserves to get her heart broken again because she’s a weak-willed goddamn

Failure!

“Let it ring,” Rosie says.

“Who’s calling?” Mom asks. Oh, good, she’s finally noticed our looks of unimaginable horror.

“Jordy,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Jordy?” Mom repeats. “Pick up and put it on loudspeaker. I’ll scare him off for good.”

I bite my lip and reach for the phone, then pull my hand back at the last second. “I don’t owe him a no.”

“Definitely not,” Rosie agrees.

“Honestly, I can’t believe he thinks I’d even consider this,” I say.

“He’s a narcissist,” Rosie says. “He probably doesn’t think he did anything wrong. Probably thinks he’s doing you a favor by letting you bask in his brilliance.”

“Maya, let me talk to him,” Mom insists.

I glance back at the phone, hesitating. Then the screen darkens, and the decision is made for me.

“Good,” I say briskly. “Hopefully that’s the last time he tries.”

“Your loss,” Mom says. “I have a real good speech. I’ve been working on it for two years now.”

Rosie studies my face, frowning. “Are you okay, Maya? If you need someone to step in and tell him to back off …”

I wave a hand. “Nah, I’m fine. Really. They’ll all give up eventually.”

“Tell them half the truth,” Mom says, pouring some milk into her coffee. “You’ve got college coming up.”

Hmm. I would like to brag about that to Jordy, if just to see his reaction.

“Uh, actually,” I say around a mouthful of oatmeal, “filming would wrap up before college.”

As Gwendolyn reminded me by email no less than three times this week as she begged me to reconsider.

“But it’s not just filming, is it?” Mom asks as she stirs. “You’ll have interviews, and photoshoots, and people would recognize you, and … and you’d have all these job opportunities.”

“Not job opportunities!” Rosie deadpans.

“I’ve seen those reality girls,” Mom says. “Always hosting their little radio shows. You are too young to know if you’re ready to commit to your own radio show, Maya.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m not doing it,” I say.

“Good. You can’t afford the distraction in your first year. The best revenge you can get on that boy is to succeed, you know.”