I didn’t answer, which was apparently all the answer they needed.
Ridge let out a low whistle. “I knew it. No guy zones out that hard unless there’s someone involved.”
“You’re imagining things,” I muttered, tugging a shirt over my head.
But Ledger leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grinning like a shark. “So how are things going? You’ve been on your phone more than usual. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”
I thought about brushing it off, laughing it away, but both Livvi andReadToLivflashed through my mind. Not that they knew aboutReadToLiv, but up until yesterday she had been the one I had been glued to my phone for. Now I was adding Livvi to that, with the way her texts had stayed with me. Theway I’d felt like an idiot staring at my screen for her reply.
“I don’t know how things are going. She’s different,” I said finally, the words slipping out before I could catch them. Although different wasn’t a good enough word to describe it, to describe her. “She’s not the typical woman I’m used to.”
Ledger raised his brows. Ridge grinned like he’d won a prize.
“That’s because she’s too smart and beautiful to be giving the likes of you the time of day,” Ridge said, flicking his towel at me.
“Shut up,” I muttered, but they only laughed harder.
I didn’t stick around for more questions. Grabbing my bag, I headed out, phone already in my hand before I even cleared the doors. A message notification glowed across the screen.
BookPad.
My breath hitched.
I swiped it open, and there it was—her username.ReadToLiv.Finally.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted her to answer until I saw the words waiting for me.
ReadToLiv
Sorry, long night. Just saw this. And I think your question deserves more than a quick reply.
I sank onto the nearest bench outside, heart hammering harder than it had in the pool. My messagefrom yesterday had been half a risk, half a test—asking her if she ever felt like she hid parts of herself from people. I hadn’t known if she’d answer at all.
And now … she had.
I typed quickly, before I could overthink it.
TheWriteGuy
I’m glad you responded. Take your time. I meant what I asked, though. I feel like I’ve been pretending for so long, I don’t know how not to. Maybe that just means I’m too scared to actually try for real.
The dots blinked on the screen. Stopped. Then blinked again.
I held my breath, waiting.
Finally, her reply stretched across the screen.
ReadToLiv
You’re not the only one. I hide too. But maybe in a different way than you. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I pretend I don’t care that I’m a loner, that I’m too scared to let someone see more than a first impression.
But over the last couple weeks I’ve realized that pretending isn’t living. It’s surviving. And I don’t want to just survive. I want to feel like I’m actually here. Even if that means messing up. Even if that means people see the parts I’m not proud of.
I stared at her words until the edges of the screen blurred.Pretending isn’t living. It’s surviving.
It was like she’d reached into my mind and said something I hadn’t been able to say out loud.
My fingers moved before my brain caught up.
