Ouch.
But she’s right. I want it to be simple. I want him to be careless or shallow or manipulative. Something easy to file away under, ‘lesson learned.’
But Alex isn’t any of those things.
He’s strategic. Intentional. Used to thinking ten steps ahead. Which means he knew exactly what he was risking by opening up to me. I can’t decide whether to admire or resent him for that.
I exhale sharply. “I wouldn’t turn down the chance if someone wanted to fund my dream, but that’s not the same thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not upset about funding or even that he didn’t tell me about his family. I’m upset about… us.” My voice wobbles despite my effort to keep it steady. “He let me fall for him without knowing who he really was.”
Kara tilts her head. “No?”
“I knew who he presented himself as.” I set my wine down harder than necessary. The deep crimson almost sloshes over the rim. “That’s the problem. I don’t know where the line is. I don’t know what parts were him and what parts were him playing to the cameras.”
Kara leans back into the couch, studying me carefully.
“Okay… Then, let me ask you something.”
I brace myself, but nod for her to continue.
“You said he wasn’t like that with everyone, right? Not warm. Not overly charming. Not playing golden-boy with the whole cast.”
“No,” I admit, thinking back on all the ways he’s the exact opposite. My lips quirk as I picture his near-constant scowl. “He wasn’t.”
“If this was purely strategy, wouldn’t he be nice to everyone? Wouldn’t he spread that charm around evenly? Make sure the cameras caught it from every angle?”
I hesitate.
Because… yeah. He would.
“He didn’t,” she presses gently. “He was selective. And you were the only one he kept showing up for.”
My heartbeat kicks up at the realization.
“That doesn’t feel like someone performing for an audience,” she says. “That feels like someone who forgot there was one.”
Maybe Kara’s right.
Maybe it doesn’t have to be one or the other. Maybe he can be strategic and still be sincere. I think about the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention, the way his hand always finds the small of my back like it belongs there, the way he stood between me and production without hesitation.
None of that felt like a performance. And yet, I don’t know how to untangle my mess of feelings from logic. I don’t know how to be sure I wasn’t just another move on a very well-played board.
My newfound hope flickers anyway, a stubborn butterfly rising from the ashes of my anger.
I scoff, flip my phone face down, and silence it. I don’t want to analyze this anymore. I don’t want to reread his messages or wait for another one to come through. I just want quiet.
I just want to forget about all of it for a little while.
?????????
Alex
It’s been three fucking days with no answer from Taylor.
Three days of calls going straight to voicemail. Three days of texts left on read. Three days of staring at my phone like I can will her name to light up the screen.
