His head turns to me, but when he looks in my direction it doesn’t seem like he sees me. I wait until a few seconds go by, only to watch him shake his head. “It’s not important,” he decides.
I’m not sure if I believe him, but I don’t push him either—because part of me is afraid of what’s casting the shadow over his features, and the other part of me is worried I won’t be able to do anything about it.
“I don’t kiss my friends either,” I tell him, unsure of why I felt the need to divulge that.
“Are you sure you want that label?”
He’s giving me an opportunity to open this up to more, and the way he’s pressed against me, his musky, manly scent wrapping around my heart and tugging, makes me want to consider the option. “I’m not sure what label works for us,” I admit, resting my head back.
“Fair.”
“We’re not like a lot of people.”
“True.”
“There’s a lot to learn,” I remark.
He nods along.
I’m quiet, contemplative. Uncertainty has a way of gripping you until you don’t know up from down. “But I think friends is safer.” It’s a soft statement, full of caution and reluctance because certain parts of me would love to explore more.
But more with Garrick Matthews seems dangerous, even if Moffie thinks I should live a little and let him show me what he knows.
My inexperience is probably what’s masking every other desire to kiss him the way he kissed me. Like I want it—need it. I chalk it up to pent up frustration and file it under things to distract myself over so I don’t jump his bones.
Friends, I tell myself.
“You’re probably right,” he murmurs.
He doesn’t seem to believe it though, and it makes me feel bad. The last thing I want to do is hurt his feelings or somehow mess whatever this is up. It’ll make leaving ten times harder when our time is up, and I have to leave. All the warnings I’ve been given by his family is fresh in my mind because I know they’re right.
Garrick doesn’t deserve to be mistreated, and maybe me telling him ‘no’ and keeping this at bay is what’s best to preserve both our feelings for the future.
I think back to my conversation with Chase the other day. “I never wanted to do him any harm by writing about him.”
“Doesn’t mean you didn’t.”
Garrick’s brows furrow when I frown, sinking into the spot I occupy and wrapping my arms around myself for comfort. “About what you said, earlier… I have hurt people, and I’ll hurt my parents even more when they find out about us…about this.”
Even thinking about whether there’s an ‘us’ is hard to say. Not even two months ago there was barely a me, just a frail version not much more than a ghost drifting through life.
He doesn’t grace me with an answer.
Doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay.
He offers me silence.
Like he knows it’s exactly what I need.
17
Rylee
Grandma Birdie used to say that challenges make you strive, and trials make you strong, but I’m not sure what words of wisdom she’d give me now. If she were here, she’d be throwing a tantrum while listening to the same garbage I’m subjecting myself to before Grandpa Al would come tell us to stop torturing ourselves.
“This is definitely the story of the season,” the woman on the screen says to her co-host, each one putting on pretty faces for the cameras. “Who would have thought someone could tame a man like Garrick Matthews?”
I roll my eyes, stabbing a piece of chicken with my fork. “He’s not a lion,” I grumble, hearing a soft snort come from Chase sitting on the loveseat across the room.
Her co-host turns from her to the camera, a Cheshire Cat smile on her face. “The question is, how long can Rylee Simmons keep him in check. The lead singer of Violet Wonders was just seen coming out of a club last month with a young woman looking awfully intimate. Without any statements from Matthews or his new bride, we have no details that support their relationship is going to withstand the pressures of his fame. It wouldn’t be the first time our favorite rock star was caught cheating.”
The pretty brunette laughs like the idea of his infidelity is amusing to her. “It could be another short-lived Hollywood romance. Who has the record for quickest breakup?”
“There was the seven-day marriage from one of the Reiner twins,” the redhead remarks, crossing her legs elegantly. “But the court documents from the newest couple were signed over a week ago, so at least they won’t be breaking any world records if they decided to split.”
The women’s chit-chat fade as their show cuts to commercial, making me scowl at my half-eaten food. Since it wasn’t my idea to put this on, I ask, “Why do you watch this stuff? It can’t be fun listening to people bash your brother.”
When all I hear is the clicking of computer keys, I glance up to see him heavily focused on his laptop.
“If you’re not even paying attention, I’ll change the channel to—”
“Garrick used to watch these shows,” he tells me, eyes not lifting off whatever work he’s plastered to. “It used to drive Mom nuts because she could see what it did to him, but he said he’d rather know what they were saying so he was prepared and not walking in blind.”
Shifting on the couch, I adjust the plate in my hands and feel my appetite slip away. Garrick hired a few trusted people to come bring me into town to run errands, and the cameras followed relentlessly. I was advised by Garrick’s team not to engage, to keep my head down, but it was hard when people were shouting at me from every which way as I filled my prescriptions at the pharmacy counter. The manager of the store had to get help escorting people out and looking none too happy about the
