Ava finally looks at me, and there it is.Hurt. Jealousy. Fear. All the things she’s trying so hard to hide.
“What do you want me to say?” she asks quietly. “That seeing you with her bothers me? That I read her caption, trying to figure out what she’s implying? And I’m wondering if‘some connections never really end’means she’s planning a comeback tour?” Ava pulls her wrist free. “Because all of those things areridiculous. We’ve only been seeing each other for a short period of time. I have no right to feel anything about your ex.”
“You have every right.”
“No, I don’t. This is casual, remember? Your rules. My rules. No expectations.”
“Screw the rules.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Screw them. The casual thing, the no expectations thing. It was working until about five minutes ago, and now it’s not.” I step closer. “You want to know what I think about Lena’s post? I think it’s pathetic. I think she saw me leave your studio weeks ago and has been spiraling ever since. She’s trying to remind the world weweretogether because she can’t stand losing relevance.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m not done.” I reach up, cupping her face. “I think she picked tonight specifically because somehow she knows I’ve moved on. And I think you seeing it bothers you because you’re starting to care about this. About us. And caring means vulnerability, which terrifies you.”
Ava’s eyes are wide. “Reece…”
“I’m terrified too,” I admit. “Because three weeks ago, this was supposed to be fun. Uncomplicated. And now?” I shake my head. “Now, I check my phone every five minutes, hoping you’ve texted. I pitch better because I know you’re watching. And the idea of you walking out because my ex is being vindictive makes me want to throw my phone through a window.”
“That’s not casual,” she whispers.
“No, it’s really not.”
We stand there, the truth hanging between us. I can see her processing, walls wavering. Ava could run right now, and part of me wouldn’t blame her.
This got complicated fast.
And complicated is exactly what we promised to avoid.
Instead, she says, “She’s really pretty.”
I laugh. Can’t help it. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“She’s an influencer. She’s got perfect hair and perfect skin and probably takes perfect selfies.”
“And you’re you.” I tilt her chin up. “You’re brilliant and sarcastic and so beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes. You create art that people carry with them forever. You challenge me, you call me on my ego, and you make me want to be better at everything.” I kiss her forehead. “Lena’s pretty… you’re extraordinary. There isnocompetition.”
“You’re biased.”
“I’m honest.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, “What does she want?”
“Attention. A reaction. Maybe me back, though she lost her shot at any of those over six months ago.”
“What if she doesn’t stop? What if she keeps posting things, keeps inserting herself?”
“Then I’ll deal with it. Publicly, if I have to.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “But right now, I’m more concerned about you. Are we okay?”
Ava searches my face, and I let her see everything. The want, the fear, the absolute certainty I feel about her.
Finally, she exhales. “I don’t want to be the girl who freaks out over ex drama.”
“You’re not freaking out. You’re being human.”
“I hate feeling jealous. It’s beneath me.”
