Jackson leans back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest and staring at the floor. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. Everything between us has been going great. I’ve told you multiple times that Kristen isn’t a threat. I’m not taking her back. We were never even in a real relationship.”
“But that’s what she wants. And the only way she can get it is by manipulating you. Making you feel sorry for her.” I go over to him. “I took pictures to prove I wasn’t lying. My stupid phone didn’t have the storage to save them so I can’t prove it to you. But the fact that I even have to hurts me.”
He keeps his gaze on the floor and doesn’t respond.
“I would never make something like this up just to make Kristen look bad. When you told me what was happening to her at home, I wanted to protect Kristen just like you did. I’d never do anything to stop you from helping her if I really thought she needed to be saved from what her stepdad was doing to her, or might do to her in the future.” I pause. “But that’s not what’s happening. I don’t know what Kristen is up to, but whatever it is, she’s using you, and I can’t just stand by and not say anything.”
I wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t.
“I’ll go,” I say, “but please at least think about what I said. I promise you I didn’t make it up, but if you’d still rather believe Kristen over me, then I guess we’re over.”
He doesn’t follow me out or try to get me to stay. He doesn’t believe me. I knew there was a chance he wouldn’t, but I held out hope that he would. My heart is hurting knowing he doesn’t trust me enough to believe me, and knowing that by telling him, I probably just ended our relationship.
I take my time walking back to Brock’s house. When I get there, I sit on one of the loungers by the pool, staring out at the setting sun.
“Feeling better?” Brock asks, appearing beside me.
“Not really.” I glance at him. “It was probably the fake hamburger I had for lunch.”
He chuckles. “Not liking the school cafeteria?”
“It’s okay.” I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them, feeling cold now that the sun is going down.
“We missed you at dinner,” Brock says. “I shared some news with the boys.”
“What’s the news?”
“I’m up for a role in a major film. A big budget spy thriller. Summer blockbuster. If I got it, it’d be huge. It’s the kind of role that could reignite my career and lead to other movie roles. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
“That’s great,” I say, trying to sound happy for him, but I really don’t care. My mind is on Jackson. I might’ve just lost the one person I care about more than anyone else.
“There are several actors up for the role,” Brock continues. “All with more experience in film. I was actually a little surprised they asked me to audition since I’ve spent the majority of my career in television. But it just goes to show that hard work and perseverance pays off.”
Hard work?All he does is sit around all day waiting for his agent to call.
“The director himself requested I audition.” He smiles to himself. “I was flattered, to say the least. If you knew the director, you’d understand.”
How long is he going to stay out here telling me how great he is and how much people love him? I swear, Brock could brag about himself for hours.
“I think I’ll go inside,” I say, getting up. “It’s getting cold out here and I need to finish my homework.”
“Of course.” He stands up. “Go ahead.”
When I’m back in my room, I look out the window and see Brock pacing back and forth by the pool. He’s talking to himselfand gesturing with his hands, probably rehearsing whatever scene he’ll be doing for his audition.
Too tired to do homework, I change clothes and get into bed. I check my phone for any messages from Jackson, but there aren’t any. I guess that means we’re over. He’s choosing Kristen.
I turn the light off and try to sleep. I toss and turn for a good hour before I finally feel myself dozing off.
My phone rings, and I bolt up from bed, thinking it must be Jackson. Nobody else calls me, except Shayla, but she wouldn’t call this late. I grab the phone from my nightstand.
“Hey.” I sound out of breath because I’m nervous. If Jackson’s calling to tell me we’re over, I don’t want to hear it. My heart can’t take that right now.
“Rumor?” a man says.
It’s not Jackson. It’s someone else.
“Yeah?” I say, wondering who would call me at this hour.
