That’s her criteria? I guess with her track record that’s all she needs though. I debate telling her what I’ve been wanting to say, but I can’t bring myself to admit it out loud because this is the gentle reminder I needed. Inviting her to stay will only lead to heartbreak, if not now, then later. People leave. Everything is temporary. And so is Avery.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
AVERY
“That’s awesome,”Ty says. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans, and I try to decide if he means it. He’s always been a little hard to read, but I’ve gotten better at it. The way his mouth twitches after is a tell. He doesn’t want me to go.
It has to be, right? This time it’s not simply my wishful thinking, my subconscious clinging to something that isn’t real. Deep down, as much as I hope that he cares about me, there’s only one way to know for certain. I need to hear him say it. I need him to ask me to stay.
I stare up at him hopefully.
“Just let me know the date, and I’ll help you move your stuff,” he adds.
My stomach sinks.
“Do you need me to pay for a moving truck?” he asks.
Does he want me gone that badly?
I shake my head. “Ol’ Harriet brought me here, and she’ll take me away too.”
He lifts his chin my way. “Right. Okay. Well, just let me know what you need.”
I need you to tell me not to go.
But saying that out loud would be crazy. I’m some pity case he took in. We’re not even dating. This was always temporary. He said it himself; he doesn’t do long-term. This is it. This is goodbye.
“The good thing is you seem to really be catching on to your dancing.” I try to smile. “Looks like it’s the end of the road for us all around.”
“I guess,” he says, eyes still locked on me.
“Guess so.”
“Well then…”
“Well,” I answer, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but he never does. I back away. “I’ll send you a save the date. For the move, I mean.”
“Right. Yes. Please do.”
My eyes drop to his pinched lips before meeting his piercing gaze again. A jittery sensation arises in my chest, like palpitations, but there’s no way I’m about to have a panic—or heart—attack. Right? Squeezing my eyes shut, I bury the sudden urge to Google my symptoms. Because would Google be able to determine that it’s a guy making me feel this way? I’m lovesick. I’m not dying, though it kind of feels that way. As I stare up at Ty, his face smooths, his brow creasing in that typical pensive way it does. He can’t even tell that I’m inflicted. He’s staring right into me. My heart wilts. Through me might be more accurate.
For once in my life, I don’t have anything to say. Despite the awkwardness, I’m not sure how to choke the silence because every single word would only make thisworse. He’d feel uncomfortable,I’dfeel uncomfortable. And then something inside rears its plucky little head. Because does any of this actually matter? What’s the point in keeping things comfortable between us if I’m probably never going to see him again?
“Is this what you want?” My voice quivers as I ask the question, but I’m too anxious for his answer to be embarrassed by it.
“Avery, I…” He sighs.
“What?”
“I just…”
“Can you say what’s on your mind for once?” My words come out too harshly.
His eyes soften as he runs a hand down the back of his neck. “I thought we both agreed this was a temporary thing. I thought you wanted your own place. Some independence.”
My heart sinks. “Yeah. You’re right. I don’t know why I even asked. I’m excited to finally stop squatting here.”
My mouth wobbles into a smile, and when I round the wrought iron staircase to escape to my bedroom, it disappears altogether. Because I don’t want to leave. I want to be with Ty. As I perch on the end of my bed, staring into the vast, opulent room, the worst part is that he seemed indifferent. He didn’t ask me to stick around. Facing rejection at a million auditions pales in comparison to this moment.Ty doesn’t care enough to ask you to stay, to ask you to be in a legitimate relationship.I could be anywhere—even in my car—and that’s not the worst part. This is. My heart aches in a way I’ve never experienced before.
