Aaron Adams Facebook ad: “Addictive Romance Novels, Read Right Now”

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After the team dinner, my boyfriend, Conrad, swung by a crowded corner bar for takeout. He emerged with three boxes. One was fried calamari. He handed it to Sierra, my best friend. The other was truffle fries. He set it in front of me. Sierra beamed. “You’re so thoughtful, Conrad. You even remembered this is my favorite.” I stared at the box of fries and pushed it away. “What’s wrong?” Conrad asked, his tone casual. “I’m allergic to truffle,” I said. “Did you forget again?” He paused, then a quick, dismissive smile flickered across his face. “It’s not that serious, is it? Just have some calamari.” He remembered that Sierra didn’t eat spicy food and liked her soda with extra lime. The scent of truffle oil could make my throat close up, but to him, that was a minor detail. I could just eat something else. In that moment, everything became clear. The person he cared about wasn’t me. On the ride home, I sat in the back of the Uber. The two of them in the front seat laughed and chatted the entire way. Watching them, I felt a strange sense of lightness settle in my chest. If he couldn’t even remember my allergy, there was no reason to stay. ... When the car pulled up to our apartment building, they were still deep in a conversation about some new indie film. It was the movie Conrad had promised to see with me last week, before canceling at the last minute because a project was “too busy.” They went from the star-crossed lovers in the film to the plight of female directors in the industry. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d been completely shut out of their conversations. This was no different. I sat in the back, a ghost in my own life. After a few minutes, they finally fell silent. Conrad glanced at me in the rearview mirror, as if just now remembering I was in the car. “Adriana, why aren’t you getting out?” I looked up at him. “You have the child lock on.” Conrad said nothing. Sierra, from the passenger seat, immediately jumped in. “Oh my God, that’s my fault. We just got so carried away talking.” She leaned over the center console and hit the unlock button with a practiced flick of her wrist. This was the first Audi Conrad bought after his big promotion. He’d smiled then, telling me I’d never have to cram myself onto the subway to Manhattan for work again. Then Sierra moved to New York, crashing at my place at first. Our commute for two became a commute for three. Then Sierra mentioned she got carsick in the back, so I gave her the front seat. I’d been riding in the back for three years. I didn’t even know where the buttons were anymore. But Sierra knew. She knew so well it was as if the car had always been hers. “Adriana, don’t be mad.” “I’ll give Conrad a good talking-to for you when he drops me home.” Conrad let out a low chuckle at that, not bothering to deny it. I had been with him long enough to recognize the sound of easy indulgence in his voice. I remembered the one time I’d mentioned not liking the smell of weed on him. Conrad’s face had gone cold. He’d told me I was too controlling, that I wouldn’t even let him unwind. He’d never liked being told what to do. But now, he’d take whatever Sierra dished out. A light rain drifted through the cracked window, cold against my arm. I scrambled out of the car. Of course, that’s when the drizzle turned into a downpour. I hurried under the awning of the building entrance. When I looked back, Conrad was raising his hand to tenderly wipe a raindrop from Sierra’s cheek. I wiped my own face. My palm came away wet. Back in the apartment, I took a long, hot shower. When I got out, a message from my direct manager had popped up on my phone. “Adriana, are you sure you want to resign?” “You just landed the SoundVibe account. I was about to go to Conrad and recommend you for the Senior Account Manager position.” I had bee......

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