Page 24 of Stolen Moments

“No. But I’m going anyway.”

“Because you want to or because you’re scared not to?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. It matters a lot.” He’s tone with the reply makes me look up at him.

I set down my textbook. “Jackson, I can’t be what you want me to be. Can’t be brave enough to choose myself over my family’s expectations. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry. You’re scared.”

“Maybe I am. But that’s who I am. Someone who’s scared of disappointing people. Someone who follows the plan even when the plan makes her miserable.”

Even, I can’t hear it in my tone, unsure about it, the moment I think about it, maybe I can do this. Tell my parents no.

“That doesn’t have to be who you are.”

“But it is. And pretending otherwise isn’t fair to either of us.”

He stands, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “So what are you saying? That we’re done?”

“I’m saying… I don’t know. I’m saying this is too hard. That sneaking around and hiding and constantly worrying about getting caught is exhausting. Maybe we should take a break.”

“A break.”

“While I figure things out.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. This isn’t about needing space. This is about your mother’s phone call reminding you of all the reasons you shouldn’t be with me.” Now he is angry, and I don’t think I can blame him either.

Is this me running away from Jackson, or myself?

“Maybe it is. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am losing focus.”

“You’re not losing focus. You’re finding yourself. And that terrifies you.”

“Jackson—”

“No. You know what? If you want to end this, end it. But don’t pretend it’s about needing time or space or any other excuse. Be honest. You’re choosing your mother’s expectations over us.”

“That’s not fair,” I shout at him.

“Life’s not fair, Priya. You taught me that.” His voice is just as loud as mine now.

I grab my bag, needing to leave before I say something I’ll regret. Or worse, before I change my mind.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“So am I.”

I walk out, and it takes everything I have not to turn back.

Chapter 8

Jackson

Priya Sharma broke my heart on a Friday evening in my studio, and I’m not handling it well.

It’s been a week since she walked out. A week of radio silence, of seeing her in the anatomy lab and having her treat me like just another model assignment, of pretending I’m fine when I’m absolutely not.