Her phone buzzes again and she groans. “I swear, if this is Talia?—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I take her phone and set it face down on the bedside table. “Whatever she posts, PR will shut it down before it even touches you.”
“I know.” She exhales, leaning her forehead against mine. “I just hate that she’s trying so hard.”
“She knows she can’t get to me anymore,” I say quietly. “So, she’s trying to get to you.”
“Does it bother you?”
“What she posts?” I shake my head. “Not even a little. But the fact that it reaches you? Yeah. That bothers me. Because you deserve an entire world that doesn’t try to hurt you.”
Her breath hitches, and she brings her hand to my face, thumb brushing my bottom lip. “You’re going to make me fall for you.”
I smile slowly. “That’s kind of the plan.”
I kiss her again, deep and slow and claiming, because if I don’t, I’m going to confess everything. The truth is right there, pounding behind my ribs, clawing its way up my throat.
I caused that crash. I hurt her before I even knew her. And somehow, I’m selfish enough to want her anyway. Because she’s become the one thing I can’t walk away from. I already know I’m going to have to choose between telling her the truth and losing her, or keeping it buried and holding onto the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ROSE
Idon’t even realise how tightly I’ve been gripping my phone until my fingers start to ache. The notifications haven’t stopped all morning, buzz after buzz, each one another reminder that Talia has escalated again. Not vague digs. Not passive-aggressive captions. This time she’s making it personal. As I scroll through the post, my stomach lurches and then settles into the biggest, ugliest knot.
She’s posted a carousel of photos of her and Callum from when they were together. There are pictures of them laughing and kissing, wrapped around each other like they were some great love story instead of the disaster he described. And the caption isn’t even subtle. It’s targeted and threatening.
Some people forget where they came from the minute someone new bats their lashes. Good luck keeping what isn’t yours, sweetheart.
The comments are worse. Hundreds of strangers deciding I’m a homewrecker, a rebound, a nobody. People screenshotting my private account and speculating about me as if I’m a character in a soap opera instead of an actual person who very much does not belong in this world of professional athletes and their messy exes. I silently berate myself for not locking down my personal profile. My photography one has to be public, because that’s the one I hope to start gaining work through eventually.
My stomach twists as I shove my phone back into my bag. The uni building empties around me, students heading home or to the library, all blissfully unaware of the fact that my entire morning has been me trying not to cry in lecture halls.
Except they’re not unaware.
I’ve felt the whispers trailing behind me all day; the not-so-subtle glances, the girls nudging each other when I walked past, the guys pretending not to laugh as they scrolled through their phones. A few even had the nerve to point, like I’m some zoo exhibit instead of a person just trying to make it through her morning seminar without falling apart. Every snicker, every sideways look burrows under my skin. Tiny reminders that Talia’s posts aren’t just living online, they’re bleeding into my real life, staining everything I thought was safe.
So, when Callum’s car pulls up at the curb, the tiny jump in my chest is immediate and embarrassing. He steps out, wearing joggers and a hoodie and a smile that’s so warm I forget the rest of the world exists for a second.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, like my heart hasn’t been in my throat all morning. He kisses me, soft at first, then a little firmer when I melt into him. “Ready to go see the flat?”
I nod, though nerves flutter under my ribs. “Yeah. I’m excited.”
He opens the passenger door for me, and when I slide in, he squeezes my knee before circling around to his side. The simple gesture steadies something in me. But he notices immediately that something’s off.
“Rose?” His smile fades. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow hard, fingers tightening on the strap of my bag. “Nothing. Well… not nothing.”
“Talk to me,” he murmurs. “Please.”
I shouldn’t feel embarrassed. But heat creeps up my throat anyway.
“It’s just…” I glance past him toward the steps of the building where a couple of girls from my seminar are still lingering. When they spot Callum, their eyes widen, and one of them whispers behind her hand. Both of them laugh and my stomach drops.
He follows my gaze, jaw tightening. “They saying something?”
I pull in a shaky breath. “It’s been all day. People whispering, staring, talking about me. Because of Talia’s posts. Because of you and me.”
