She’s not a coward. She’s the only person brave enough to tell me off. I can take off my mask with her. I don’t have to be an arrogant charmer in front of Amy. She doesn’t like that version of me anyway.
She likes the real me, or at least she used to.
I could tell her any fucking thought that occurred to me, and she’d stare at me with that rapt attention I’ve grown to crave. She’s the only person who’s ever allowed me to relax in my own skin without the anxiety of being perceived as dull.
She has every reason to be afraid to talk to me. We had an honest conversation that day in the library. She told meher fanfic pseudonym—something only her closest friends knew about—and I used it against her.
She’s not a coward, but she is cautious with me, because I’ve proved to her in the past that I’m not safe. And I’ve proved it once again by uttering words that seemed to have crushed her.
I approach the two of them cautiously, and Serena wraps her arms around Amy and pulls her away.
Serena's flashing eyes bore into me. "Go away."
"No!” A rope wraps around my heart, pulling as tight as a noose. If I don’t fix this, I’ll lose the one person in the world who makes me feel alive. "Please."
Serena guides Amy away and heads toward the director.
Oh, fuck. They're going to leave.
They're going to leave, and I may never see Amy again.
A fog descends over me, thicker than mud. If I lose her, I'll lose myself too. She lights me up. She turns my dull, dark world to color.
When Serena marches past me hand in hand with Amy, I dart around them and stand in their path. Amy immediately buries her face in Serena's shoulder, probably to hide her tears.
Tears that came from me.
Oh God, I want to die.
"Please, Amy. Believe me when I say I didn't mean it. I'm begging you."
Serena huffs. "Tristan, get out of the way."
In my desperation, I fall to my knees. The rocky ground shoots arrows of pain up my legs. Distantly, I hear the muttering of the camera crew and their quick movements, but I find I can't move.
“Amy,” I shout. "Please, just—" The lump in my throat grows so large I can't speak.
Serena guides Amy around me, and for the first time, I catch a glimpse of her face. It’s an image that will probably follow meinto the afterlife. Her eyes, usually so full of fire, stare vacantly ahead of her. Dead eyes. That's what they are. Because I shut off the light behind them.
I scramble to my feet, the sharp stones biting into my palms. "We're calling off this date," I shout to the crew. "There's nothing here for me if Amy is gone. And goddamn it, have someone walk with them." I gesture at Amy and Serena, now disappearing down the hill.
A crew member jogs in their direction, and the director approaches me. He starts talking, his tone is coaxing but I don't hear the words.
What can I possibly do to ease this despair in my chest, to wipe away the agony in her eyes?
I'll die if I don't fix this.
CHAPTER 27
Amy
Serena's fingers trail soothing patterns on my back. I've been lying here on my stomach for the last hour, my thoughts a miserable, scattered tangle. I've hardly spoken, but Serena doesn't seem to mind.
Tristan was right about everything. I’ve been so consumed with protecting my heart over these past few years that I locked myself in a box. Oh, it’s safe in here, sure. But it’s also free of sunlight and laughter and joy. There’s no room for my heart to grow.
Tristan knew it. He saw the state of my heart better than I did, distracted as I was by my imaginary fanfic world that allowed me to experience the highs and lows of life from a distance. It’s a cowardly way of living, and I didn’t even see it.
"Tristan is an asshole," Serena murmurs. "Imagine calling you a coward when he all but admitted he's in love with you to me and Nick but wasn't brave enough to tell you."
