“Good to know. I guess. So, what, then?”
“The relationships were real,” he goes on, his voice so quiet now I can barely hear him. “Or as real as it gets when you have absolutely nothing in common, I suppose. Other than that you’re both insanely hot, obviously.”
I snort, amused. Even in a middle-of-the-night confession, he’s still aware enough of his audience — me, in this case — to want to make them smile.
“None of them have been serious, is what I’m trying to say,” he goes on, more seriously now. “Because none of them have ever really known me. I’ve never let them get close enough to. That’s why none of them have lasted.”
He pauses, as if he’s gathering his thoughts, before he goes on.
“I met my first girlfriend on a movie set when I was 19,” he tells me in a rush. “And I thought I was in love with her. I really did. I thought we’d be together forever. That somehowwewould be the lucky ones who’d met as teenagers, and who would stay together for the rest of our lives. Because that was what I wanted. What I still want, really. Something real. Something solid. Something that lasts forever.”
Violet. He’s talking about Violet King, his most famous ex. And I thought I’d hated her before, but wow, do I ever hate her now.
“Then I found out she was hooking up with my best friend,” Jett says bitterly.
“Wait. The one whose audition you ruined?”
“Yup. The very one.”
His voice is still steady, but there’s an anger so palpable in it that I could almost reach out and touch it. My mind, meanwhile, is racing. If the ‘best friend’ he’s talking about is Ethan Curtis, who everyone says owes his entire career to his early friendship with Jett, then this is some pretty juicy gossip he’s sharing, and although I’m still seething with jealously over Violet, and what he just said about her, I’m flattered he obviously trusts me enough to tell me it.
“After that, I kind of went off the rails,” he goes on. “I felt so stupid for believing Violet had loved me. And I felt like if what I’d had with her wasn’t real, then nothing could be. I couldn’t trust anyone. But my dad kept on trying to set me up with people. He thought it would be good for me to be part of some kind of power couple, you know what I mean?”
I absolutely don’t, but I nod anyway.
“He’s always put so much pressure on me,” he goes on. “Just like your mom does with you. And I went along with it, because I wanted him to be proud of me, sure, but also because I kept thinking that maybe there was someone out there who would be the one for me, and that if I could just find her, I’d be okay. I’d be happy.”
There’s another long pause, during which I shift a little closer towards him, wondering if I dare reach out to him. Because I want to. I really want to. And not just because I saw what he looked like in his boxers, but because I want to be the one to make him happy. And even if I can’t, I still want to make sure he’s at leastokay.
Before I can move, though, Jett starts talking again.
“I guess you know the rest.” I feel, rather than see, his shrug of resignation. “Lots of women, lots of dates, lots of crazy rumors and manufactured stories. Lots of lies, in other words.”
He shrugs again.
“Hey, don’t feel bad for me, Lady M,” he says, sounding more like his old self. “I have a nice life. I have a job I love. I can’t really complain about the way things have worked out. Here, let me get out my tiny violin. ”
He laughs softly. I tell he’s already wondering if he’s said too much, and I’m anxious to reassure him.
“You’re allowed to wish things were different, you know,” I tell him, pushing the pillow between us out of the way so I can prop myself up on one elbow and look at him. “You’re allowed to have regrets.”
By now, my eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I can see his glinting back at me. With the pillow barrier gone, I’m suddenly very aware of just how small a standard double bed really is.
“That’s the thing, though,” he replies, propping himself up so he’s mirroring my position. “I don’t. Not really. I know Violet wasn’t really the one for me. If she was, she wouldn’t have cheated on me. And I wouldn’t ever want to be with someone I couldn’t trust. So I don’t really haveregrets, as such. I do sometimes wish my life was different, though. I mean, I really liked going to Birnam with you today,” he says, sounding bashful. “ I had a lot of fun. And I liked The Wildcat, too. I wish I could do stuff like that more often.”
“No one likes The Wildcat,” I correct him. “You don’t have to pretend for me.”
“I don’t pretend for you,” he says softly. “I always tell you the truth. And I like it here. I like the people. Even that guy with the sheep.”
“Okay, now Iknowyou’re lying. I bet you’re going to try to tell me you like the weather, too.”
I pull the covers up over my shoulders to prove my point. It might be summer, but that doesn’t mean it’s warm here in the Highlands, and while we’ve been talking, the rain has started up again outside.
“You cold, Lady M?” Jett says, his voice suddenly much closer in the darkness. Before I can react, he reaches out and pulls me towards him, until my body’s nestled against his, my head in the crook of his neck.
“That better?” He uses his other hand to arrange the duvet over us both, and I nod, not quite trusting myself to speak. From my current position, I can hear his heart thudding beneath the thin material of his t-shirt — slow and steady, unlike mine, which started to race as soon as he touched me.
I really hope he can’t feel it.
