Every message was the same. Nate's voice was panicked as he begged me to call.
"Damn it, Bastian. It's f*****g midnight. Where the hell are you? Call me back." That call had come in hours ago.
I dreaded reaching out. He'd give me s**t, and I wasn't sure I could handle it with the mindfuck I'd endured earlier.
"Where in the actual f**k have you been, Bastian?"
"Hey to you, too, Nate."
"Seriously, asshole, where have you been?"
I sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, and quite frankly, I'm not ready to relive it in a story. Are you okay?"
"Well, let's see. I got here late Thursday night with your pseudo girlfriend, who, upon checking in, immediately disappeared. She returned about an hour later, wanting to go to some bar. I figured what the hell? It's New York, a semi-vaca
