The next short starts up, and I relax back into my seat. It’s going to take some getting used to, being the boyfriend of a guy like Matty, a sweetheart with his art career taking off. But even with my own career falling apart, I don’t feel jealous or twisted about it.
I’m just happy for my guy, and that’s more than enough to keep me going.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
MATTY
A few daysafter the film comes out, I decide I have to do something about Stone’s problem.
He swears it’s no big deal. He’s going to finish out his apprenticeship with Billie and then move on from Blade. Jeremiah is going to inherit the shop from his uncle, and that means Stone won’t want to work there anyway.
The thing is, I can’t accept that. I’ve never been happier, with a boyfriend I truly love and a career that’s hitting a new high. For days, the compliments have been pouring in, and I’m already jotting down ideas for new films.
But how am I supposed to be happy if I know Stone’s own dreams are fizzling out?
I didn’t haul my geeky butt all the way to Chicago just to retreat back into my shell when it really matters.
Stone and his dreams are worth fighting for, same as mine. That’s why I’m standing in front of Blade on a Thursday evening, clenching my fists and giving myself one hell of a pep talk.
Stone is off at the bar with Red and Billie, enjoying the weekly beer they’ve invited him to. In about an hour, he’ll be done, and we’ll meet up at his apartment. The plan is to order Thai food, roll around in his bed, and maybe watch a movie if we have the time.
But the second I walk in the door, I’m going to show him what I’ve done.
I’m going to prove that he’s worth fighting for, the same as he fought for me.
The door to Blade opens, and Jeremiah walks out. He’s wearing a black leather jacket, and his ski cap is pulled down tight. He’s staring at the ground so hard he doesn’t notice I’m standing there, and he shoulder checks me on the way out.
“Hey,” I yelp with surprise, bracing myself to stop from stumbling back.
He shoots me a glance over his shoulder, then stops. Slowly, Jeremiah crosses his arms over his chest and faces me fully. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarls.
He squints at me, his narrow eyes piercing me with their gaze. It’s dark, and there’s a half-shadow over his face, but I would recognize this douchenozzle anywhere. His mean smirk and lumbering body and gravelly voice all shake me to my core.
My heart jumps, and fear threatens to overwhelm my senses. I know he’s capable of horrible things, and my brain screams to run away.
It’s the only way to be safe, but I can’t give in. I can’t let fear control me.
I’m a badass with a half-finished kitty tattoo, and no one can take that away from me.
Summoning an image of Stone in my mind, I straighten my back and meet Jeremiah’s gaze. “I’m here to talk to you,” I say.
Jeremiah takes one step forward, then two. “You think you have the right to talk to me, you fucking queer? Do you know what you and your little boyfriend have cost me?”
He’s so much taller than me and so much stronger, too. I smell cigarette smoke on his jacket and maybe liquor on his breath.
Fuck, this is terrifying. But I have to go forward.
I have to do it for Stone.
“I know what you cost my little boyfriend,” I shoot back, then wince.
Maybe I didn’t need to repeat thelittlepart, but whatever. I’m new to this whole “confronting assholes who could probably break my neck” thing.
“I know it was you,” I say, fishing to try to get him to say more.
He has to say more.
Jeremiah takes one final step toward me. His body is only inches from mine, but I don’t back away. This is what I need, the only way my desperate plan will work.
