Gently—like I’m made of fragile glass—he cups my cheeks and wipes my tears with his thumbs. “It’s okay. Ipromise. We can figure this out.”
I shake my head, spiraling further with every breath I take. “There’s nothing to figure out. This wasn’t meant to be.”
His expression takes on that sympathetic look that my family always has when I’ve failed at another thing. “That’s not what this means. It’s simply a roadblock we have to work around. It’s not a big deal.”
But everything feels like a very big deal. The dream is disintegrating before it even took its first breath.
I’m suddenly too hot. Too frustrated. Too angry. Pushing him out of the way, I scramble out of the cab and pace the length of the Bronco. “It’s a sign that it’s time to quit thinking about this.”
“What about all the signs that you were on the right track?”
“I misread them. Maybe Barb’s Books was the sign! You know, that sometimes dreams pass you by because they’re meant for someone else,” I continue, trying to convince myself. “The Smoothie Bro sign is going to be clear as day when it’s hanging there!” I jab a finger in the direction of the rental space. “I can’t live here and see that every time I drive through town.”
Theo shakes his head. “Or maybe you’re looking for a sign from someone else to tell you what to do, when really you need to look in here to figure it out,” he says, walking closer to lay his palm to the center of my chest.
Stepping out of his reach, I stare up at him, my breaths quickening with every inhale. Ifeel irrational. Barely held together. But I don’t know how to fight against it. Years of self-doubt are coming back up my throat and choking me.
“How am I even supposed to know whatthis”—I point to my chest—“is saying? I can’t trust that either.” I’ve never been able to.
His expression hardens. “If this is your dream, I’m not letting you quit. Don’t give up just because things get hard.”
I make a short, frustrated sound. “It’s my life, Theo. Not yours.” Groaning, I press my palms to my face. “Fuck, I should just leave town.” The rental space isn’t mine. The A-frame isn’tmine. There’s nothing tying me down here other than reminders of all the ways I’ve fucked up. I could justgo.
“What?” His voice is eerily calm.
I lower my hands and find confusion etched on his features.
“What do you meanleave town?” His focus is intense. Locked-in. “Where are you planning on going?”
There’s an uncomfortable twist in the pit of my stomach. I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere and I don’t know how to get back on track.
I shake off the feeling and press on. “Well, Baby Blue isn’t going anywhere, apparently. Can’t even get her back to the A-frame.” I glance around, suddenly realizing we’re having this very public disagreement. Fortunately, there are only a few people walking through downtown. “This probably isn’t looking good for your bullshit with Arthur.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that.” His jaw ticks, his entire body tense. “You’d leave? Just like that?”
“Yes,” I blurt, exasperated. “Remember? I’m an expert at giving up. Gold medal quitter.”
Hurt pinches his face. “What about me?”
“What about you?” I blink up at him, trying to slow my racing pulse. “This is fake, Theo,” I whisper. “What, I’m supposed to be your fake girlfriend forever?”
His brows crash together. “This is not fake, and you know it.”
The space between us seems to pulse. The rest of the world is startlingly quiet.
I can’t pull my gaze from his. “No emotions, remember?” It’s a bold-faced lie, but with everything that’s happened in the last fifteen minutes, I can’t think straight. I’m careening out of control, and I don’t know how to stop the momentum.
In one big step, he reaches me. Warm hands cup my cheeks,and he dips his mouth to mine. It’s less of a kiss and more of a reckoning. Warmth infuses my body as he parts my lips, and his tongue slips into my mouth. He tips my head and pushes me back against the truck, and I go willingly. The kiss is thorough and deep, like he’s working to undo every bit of doubt I might have. Attempting to unravel every thread of tension in me.
I let him try, loosening and melting in his arms for a moment before he pulls away. Too soon. And in the wake of that kiss, I realize tears are dripping down my cheeks.
“Did that feel fake to you?” His throat bobs on a heavy swallow. “Did any of the other times? When I made love to you, did it feel like we were pretending?”
The next tear falls before I can stop it. I’m having trouble finding the right words. My body feels like it’s spinning in three different directions, and I don’t know how to gather myself back together.
His palm presses to the center of his chest. “Because I wasn’t pretending. This is the most real thing I’ve ever felt.”
A knot tightens in my stomach. “You didn’t want anything real,” I remind him, scrambling for solid ground to stand on.
