Paige Rewritten Read Free Page B

a relationship with Tyler here and that I am finally happy again and he should just go back to California or wherever he is now living.
    At least I think there is that potential with Tyler. Apparently we’ll see after the crazy time at his work is over.
    â€œHello, Luke,” I say, because he is obviously waiting for a reply from me.
    â€œAny big birthday plans?”
    I think about how to answer this without blatantly lying. “I’m not sure yet,” I say, hoping maybe he’ll misread that to mean I am expecting a surprise party.
    â€œGreat. You should come out to dinner with me.”
    â€œI think not.”
    â€œYou’re just sitting there in your car. That’s a terrible birthday.”
    I immediately jerk my head around until I see him parked two spaces over, smiling at me through the raindrop-streaked window all stalker-like, phone to his head. He waves the hand not holding the phone and flashes a smile.
    â€œHi, Paige.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I demand.
    He shrugs. “I’m considering adoption.”
    â€œGo away, Luke. I have plans.”
    â€œFor what? Dinner alone? No birthday cake? No candles? No singing?” He tsks into the phone, shaking his head. “That’s the worst birthday I can think of.”
    No worse than sitting here in my car talking to my ex-boyfriend two parking spaces over from me. I try staring him down but it doesn’t work. He just smiles bigger.
    â€œI like your hair,” he says.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYour hair. It’s long. I like it like that.”
    â€œYou know what, Luke? You had your chance. Go back to California.” I hang up the phone, don’t look at him again, turn the key forcefully, and drive out of the parking lot, not even sparing a glance in my rearview mirror.
    Who does he think he is anyway? The greatest gift to mankind? Poor Paige, I dumped her and now she must be miserable without me?
    I grip the steering wheel, staring through my windshield wipers that aren’t really needed for the tiny drizzle coming down. Idiot. Does he really think he can just waltz back into my life without even a thought to the past?
    My apartment is very close to work, and I get there in record time. It seems that fuming makes you drive faster. I gather up all of my birthday gifts and am halfway to my apartment when I realize I forgot to pick up dinner.
    Apparently fuming makes you forget important things like eating as well. I stand there in the drizzle, staring at my building, wondering if I should just make do with the cheese stick and rice cakes inside, thinking about how I likely happened on a life-changing discovery in the diet industry and how my soon-to-be bestseller could put my money troubles to rest.
    Fume More, Consume Less.
    â€œSo, about dinner …”
    I close my eyes, willing the voice behind me to leave.
    â€œCome on, Paige. You can’t avoid me forever.”
    â€œMaybe not, but I can try.”
    â€œPaige.” He draws my name out, a slight teasing tone to his voice. I take a deep breath and turn around, squinting at him through the spitting drizzle.
    He looks good. Luke has always looked good. While most boys went through the goofy years where their head, feet, and hands were too big for their bodies, I can’t remember Luke ever looking anything less than perfect. I met him when I was a beyond-awkward fifth grader wearing my mom’s old stirrup pants and carrying around toothpicks to get food out of my braces. Layla was assigned the desk next to me and we were instant friends. I’ll never forget the day she took me to her house and I met Luke.
    I thought he was the cutest boy I’d ever seen. And he was way mature because he was already in the seventh grade and had to shave.
    I just look at him now, biting the inside of my cheek. The years have been good to Luke. His shoulders have filled out and his jawline has become a man’s. His hair is thick