Page 56 of Quarantine Crush
“You already have,” I say, the words barely a whisper.
Knox sucks in a shocked breath, but I don’t look away as I say the words that will cost me my happiness and grant him his.
“I can’t be friends with you anymore because every time I look at you, I’ll feel the sting of your rejection and the embarrassment of all the things I’ve done to let you know how I feel about you.”
“What embarrassing things? You mean the kiss that first night? Emy, I hardly think that qualifies after everything–”
“I came to see you.” I don’t know why I choose to tell him the truth after all these years. Or why I choose this moment to do it. I know after the story comes out, I won’t be able to look him in the eye ever again. Then again, if our friendship is over, why not purge my heavy heart of all its secrets.
“Came to see me when?” he asks, confusion knitting his brows.
“A couple of years ago. Right after you graduated.”
“What? How? I never knew–”
“There was a party for you at a pub near campus. Christian told me where you’d be.”
He still looks mystified and a little insulted that I would travel so far and never show myself.
“Yeah, I remember my mate, Charlie, threw a celebration for me. Why didn’t you stop by?”
“I did.” My voice is strangled. Barely more than a whisper.
Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
Not yet.
“I don’t understand.”
Frustration bubbles up and over. “You know what, it doesn’t even matter.”
“It does matter. Just explain what’s wrong. No more secrets.”
My eyes narrow. “Oh, that’s rich. You want me to stop keeping secrets? What about you? Every week you Facetime me and act like you tell me everything about your life, but I know you don’t. I know you hide your relationships from me like I’m some desperate little schoolgirl who can’t handle it.”
His expression tightens, and he takes a step forward. “I’m not the only one who holds back the details, Emy. You’ve kept your fair share of secrets.”
“I do not–” I open my mouth to argue, but he plows ahead.
“That book you’re writing, for one–claiming it’s fiction.” He snorts. “Using our lives as fodder for desperate housewives’ need to escape. That’s low, Emy. Or should I sayJemmy? And Reed? Don’t even get me started on how you’re stringing him along. You can’t help yourself when it comes to that boy-next-door vibe, huh?”
Rage boils my veins. He read my book? How dare he?
I storm past him and yank the closet door open, desperate to end this. For a non-relationship, this moment sure as hell feels like a breakup. I need to sever all ties so I can drown my sorrows in a bottle of the cheapest wine online grocery shopping can buy me.
The coats fall as I tug them aside, but I leave them there, grabbing the stupid guitar and marching back to where Knox is still waiting.
“What are you–”
I shove the guitar into his hands. “Here. Take it. It’s always been yours anyway.”
“You said you bought this for an ex.”
“No, I said I bought it for an asshole who hurt me.”
Watching understanding dawn in his expression is another twist of the knife in my heart.
“Emy.”
