His eyes flash, then they dim. “I thought we had something special, Lil.” He reaches for me, but when I tense away, he drops his hand. “I thought you wanted this. A career in music. That’s what you told me.”
A pang of guilt hits, but I hold firm, softening my tone. “I’m still figuring out what I want, but I know it’s not this.”
He draws a shaky breath, eyes glistening. For a moment, I’m afraid he’ll cry.
“The thing is, Lil…she won’t take me without you. It’s either the duo or nothing.”
The words land like a blow. Guilt floods through me, swift and overpowering, even as I register that this is the only reason he chased after me—not to apologise, or to make sure I’m alright, or even to say goodbye, but because he needs me.
“This is my dream,” he continues, voice desperate. “My chance to make it. And I love your songs, Lil—you know I do. And so does the scout. Whatever that factor is, you’ve got it—her words.” His voice softens. “And I think, if you really think about it, this is your dream too.”
In a way, he’s right, and my heart aches for the younger version of myself who would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. But I have the same feeling of unease I did walking home last night, with an instinct whispering that something’s off.
And that’s when I realise it: I’ve literally just told him I don’t want this, but he’s already pulled me off course.
“Just come inside and talk to her,” he murmurs. “Please? For me?”
His eyes smoulder, and he flashes that dazzling smile, the one capable of breaking hearts…
And understanding slides into place, soft and terrible.
He’s using it to try to breakme.
Just like Toby did, except he chipped away pieces until my autonomy cracked beneath his disapproval.
Whereas Jack’s charm has wound around me like silk—soft, persuasive, almost comforting until it over-tightened.
“Lily-Anne?” he prompts. “You coming?”
Anger flares, but I temper it. I can see how badly he wants this, and if his dreams truly rest on my shoulders, I hate that for him. I don’t want to let him down, but I won’t let him pressure me, either.
“I’m sorry,” I say again as Ellenor’s car pulls up across the road. “I wish you all the best.”
I start crossing towards it, but his voice rises, sharp and wounded.
“You said you appreciated everything I’ve done for you! Funny way of showing it!”
I keep walking, reaching for the door handle, but his voice hardens. “Fine!Go. But those songs are mine now.”
I whirl around, the words hitting like a slap. He’s still standing under the café lights, jaw set, defiant.
“You can’t take them.” The words scrape out of me as I drift back. “I wrote them—they’re mine.”
He sneers, “No. Wecollaborated.”
“You hardly changed a thing.”
“I changed enough. New lyrics. Added riffs. Different key. And I have you on video agreeing we’re an official duo. Do you know what that means? A brand. Shared identity. It implies co-ownership.”
“I never said—”
“I’ll send you the link.”
Cold floods my veins, then heat. “I never asked for your help.Youoffered.”
He crosses his arms smugly, feet set apart. “Yeah. And help you I did.”
“This is your idea of helping?” I ask, my voice small.
