The Blush Factor by Deborah Bladon

Chapter Seven

Faith

I stumblebackward from my apartment door with my heart thundering in my chest. It’s so loud that it’s drowning out everything.

How did my diary end up in Dr. Hawthorne’s hands?

I saw it there when I peered through the peephole in my door. I did that because I heard the unmistakable rasp of his voice as he called out to his identical twin brother.

Both of them live in the building, but I’ve only ever met Roman, and that was in passing one day when one of his daughters bumped into me in the lobby.

He apologized first, and then Georgie, the little girl, stepped up and offered her version of sorry, which consisted of trying to hand me a half-eaten red lollipop while a tear streamed down her cheek.

I looked to her dad for approval before I knelt to take Georgie in my arms for a hug. I forgave her, politely refused the lollipop, and went on with my day after Roman offered his name and an assurance that if I ever needed anything, I could find him in 18B.

Naturally, I saw Dr. Hawthorne’s face when I looked at his brother, but it didn’t send the same burst of need through me that is there whenever I come within ten feet of the veterinarian.

Dr. Hawthorne’s hair is slightly longer than Roman’s, and his deep brown eyes are shaped just the tiniest bit differently.

None of that matters anymore because I’m going to have to move after this.

As soon as Dr. Hawthorne opens the diary to one of the many entries that feature him, I’ll need to crawl into a hole forever.

Tapping my forehead, I pace around my small living room.

I must have dropped my diary when the elevator lurched to a dead stop between the sixth and seventh floors. It’s the second time that’s happened while I’ve been in it. Both times, it went pitch dark for a few seconds before it started back up again.

I had my hands full of groceries, my backpack, and my phone. I’d tucked the diary under my arm after I added a new entry as I sat on a bench under a lamppost a block from here.

I stopped there to go to a fresh fruit market because they have the best blueberries in the city.

When I noticed the vendor was packing up for the day, I rushed over with my already bought grocery staples in hand, paid him, and shoved the plastic container of blueberries into one of the bags.

Then I walked home, got on the elevator, and held tightly to everything. Or I thought I did.

Once I got inside my apartment, I dumped everything on my kitchen table. I put the groceries away before jumping in the shower.

I had no idea my diary never made it out of the elevator with me.

Damn my earbuds all to hell because if I weren’t listening to an audiobook version of the newest release by my all-time favorite neuroscientist, I would have heard the sound of my diary hitting the floor when the elevator stopped abruptly.

It’s big enough to make a noticeable thud. I should know. I’ve dropped it more than once.

“Fuck,” I whisper to myself with my hands pressed against the side of my head. “Fuck, Faith. Now what?”

I could go over and ask for it back. If I do that now, there’s a good chance that he won’t get far enough into it to reach the entries that involve him.

I’ve been writing in that diary since I was sixteen.

It contains five years of my secret truths and confessions.

But, Dr. Hawthorne would know that I was spying on him through the peephole in my door.

I rack my brain, trying to remember if I revealed my name in any part of the diary. I’ve always closed every entry with my initials.

This is the first time in my life that I’m grateful for the F.U. moniker because maybe, just maybe, he’ll assume it’s supposed to mean Fuck You, and he won’t tie it to me.

How could he?

He doesn’t even know my name.

I spin around when I hear the sound of a door slamming from the hallway.

Sprinting across the floor, I press an eye to the peephole just in time to see Roman on his way to the elevator with Dr. Hawthorne following him.

“Good luck with your patient,” Roman says over his shoulder. “I hope it’s not an all-nighter.”

“You and me both,” Dr. Hawthorne responds as they disappear from my view.

I sigh as my stomach twists into a nervous knot.

I was hit with a one-two knock out punch tonight.

Not only did my crush find my diary, but he did it on his way home from a date.

I heard his brother asking about it as I stared in horror at my diary clutched tightly in his hand.

I turn around and slide my back down my door until my ass hits the floor.

Since breaking into Dr. Hawthorne’s apartment to get my diary isn’t an option, my only hope is that he drops it off at the doorman’s desk tomorrow for the building’s lost and found box.

That’s the only way I’m going to get back my most treasured possession.