He nods. “You don’t even need to jet off to Spain; you might have a backup career right here.”
Something small inside me deflates. I don’t want to think about Spain right now. I take the towel carefully off his shoulders and shake it into the shower. “You want to rinse off before we head out?”
He nods and pulls his T-shirt off. I’m moving for the door when he stops me. “Hey, Jade?”
I turn to him.
“What’s the other reason you’re running away?”
“What?”
“You told me your parents were half the reason you’re running away to Spain. What’s the other half?”
“Oh.” I remember that night on the library roof when we barely knew each other and it was easy, somehow, to be openwith him. Too open. “I said ‘running away’?”
“Yeah.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess Sam was the original reason.”
I catch the flash in his eyes before he looks at the floor.
“You know I’m over him, right? I have been for a long time.”
“But you’re not over what he did to you.” He leans back against the counter, hands behind him, muscled chest on display. “You still believe the lies he told you.”
“What lies?”
“That you’re selfish. You’re not, Jade, you’re human. He put you on a pedestal, and when you turned out to be imperfect, he couldn’t take that.”
I hesitate, stunned by how simply and perfectly he’s put words to the blur of thoughts and feelings that have plagued me since Sam broke up with me. He’s right. I always used to choose guys who couldn’t believe their luck when I agreed to a date. I don’t know that I liked being put on a pedestal so much as I needed it. From up there, I was safe. I wouldn’t turn out like my mother. “He did,” I agree. “But what if Iwasselfish?”
He shrugs. “What if you were? So was he. He missed out on being with the perfect girl because all he wanted was a trophy.”
“The perfect girl?” I smile but Reeve doesn’t.
“The perfect girl.”
My heart picks up speed at the soft, sincere way he says the words. “We don’t need to talk about Sam ever again. He’s so far in the past, he’s nothing.”
“Good. That’s why I don’t understand why you’re leaving.”
I sigh, not ready for this conversation. “I don’t know. There are probably a dozen reasons. I just don’t care to examine them. That’s how I make decisions.”
“You’re going to move across the world and spend a bunch of money you don’t have and waste your degree for no reason? That seems fucked up.”
“There’s a reason.”
“A good one?”
“Doesn’t really matter whether it’s good or bad, it’s just what I’m doing.” I watch his face contort in disapproval, feeling myself grow defensive. “Actions make a life. Not the reasons behind them.”
I think—or do I hope?—he’s going to tell me Spain’s a bad idea, but instead he proceeds to take off his shorts. He walks over to the shower in his black boxer briefs and turns on the water. “You know,” he says, “Sam’s not in your life anymore.”
“Clearly not.”
“And your parents have no control over you. So what are you running away from?”
“I probably shouldn’t have said ‘running away.’”
