The apocalypse happening.
So it was all a lie, she imagined the captain of his fan club bellowing from amidst the ashes that civilization would absolutely be reduced to on learning this terrible,messy truth. After all, who ever really wanted to hear it?Shedidn’t even want to, and she was the one currently enduring it.
He’s never going to be really and truly in love with you, and you don’t actually want him to be. It’s just all a big load of nonsense. You’re sex drunk. Having-an-actual-companion-over-a-large-course-of-time drunk. Nostalgia-over-things-that-never-happened drunk. Just be a professional, she ordered herself.
So she was.
She shook hands with everyone. Plastered a smile on her face. Pretended that nothing weird was going on between her and Caleb Miller at all. She even managed a cheery text message to Beck.I think him and me are going to be actual friends after this, she wrote. And Beck texted her back seven thousand thumbs up.
She was nearly feeling like herself by the time his talk was underway.
This one was just a passage from his latest and a few simple questions, no need for her to do anything that might make his current uncomfortable state worse. She just waited in the staff room for it to be over, sure that everything was fine.
So when one of the coordinators flew in, all curls and cute cardigan and flushed pink cheeks, she didn’t think much of it.
Until she spoke in a pretty frantic rush.
“I think maybe we upset him,” she said. “Because he kind of just stormed out.” At which point, the whole plan to remain professional and not worry too muchabout whatever weird thing was going on with him kind of fell apart.
She jumped up before the second apologetic employee had even had a chance to get into the room and help the first explain. Grabbed her bag, waved off a bunch of his fans on the way out. “Tell him I love him,” someone cried after her, as she darted around the seating area and flew past a bunch of book-laden tables.
Even more worrying: one of the fans said that she, Daisy, was the person she loved. And so now a thousand terrible questions were running through her head.What is going to happen if I get a little famous because of this, she found herself thinking as she flew across the street to their hotel.Because it was fine when it was just him and his ability to retreat back to his compound, away from prying eyes. But what if they notice my absence? What if they wonder why I’m toddling around London, nowhere near him, to the end of time? Didn’t think of that when you decided to step in for Louisa, did you?
And none of the answers she came up with sounded good.
They all sounded like something she should have thought about before now. But of course, she knew why she hadn’t.Somehow, you assumed you would still see him, you assumed you still wanted to see each other. That it would be all right to just meet up every now and then, like he was supposed to with the actress.
And after that came the final question:
But what if he doesn’t want to?
Fuck, she thought, and ran faster. She didn’t wait forthe elevator, she took the stairs two at a time. Half of her sure she would get to their room and find him gone, absolutely no part of her certain that it was just the phony nonsense she was worried about. And the latter proved the most true, too, because when she saw him she didn’t think,Thank god, our ruse is okay.
She thought:Thank god, he is still here with me.
And that was kind of a lot to deal with, after climbing four flights of stairs. He had to wait through about five minutes of her with her hands on her knees, trying to get her breath back, before he could say whatever furious thing he was going to.
Because a furious thing was definitely coming.
She could see him pacing, his face the embodiment of fury, as she fought to get air into her body. He was practically crackling by the time she was done. She had to stand up straight, and try to seem like someone who was not currently going through some deep emotional revelations about their relationship.
Just business, she told herself.Just business.
But then he said, “I am not going back there, and you cannot persuade me to, Emmett. Her questions were too personal, and she was too familiar, and then they started asking if you could come out and give me a hug because I guess I seemedperfectly normal, actually, and then I don’t know what happened. I had to go.”
And he did it all in a big, garbled rush. His hands went into his hair.
And she just couldn’t be businesslike. She didn’t want to say,But you were fine with personal questions before, orWe’ve hugged onstage, we could have easily done that.She wanted to reassure him. She just wanted to reassure him.
“Hey, hey, hey. Hey, easy. Easy. It’s okay. It’s all right, nobody is going to force you to do anything. If you want to go you can go; I’ll make excuses, it’ll be fine. Look at me, it’s fine,” she said, all nice and calm about it.
She just didn’t realize that she was touching him when she did.
On his face. Her hand was on his face. Like the night before.
And his reaction told her that said hand had definitely been a part of the problem. He went almost rigid again.It’s affection, it’s being too real about all of this, that’s what he’s struggling with. Doesn’t matter if he had a whole orgasm while it was happening—like he said, you can be excited and still not want something, she thought, and that seemed to make sense. Especially when he spoke.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
