Page 86 of Well, Actually
I let out a surly snort, flicking through my files of self-loathing at a rapid pace. “I’m sorry for all of it. The original stupid video I posted calling you out. Showing up at your place when I knew it was a terrible idea. Talking to Landry and William in the most unprofessional way possible during your friend’s beautiful evening. The leaked video of us… I’m sorry.”
Rylie stays silent, absorbing the reality of the mess I’ve gotten us into.
“I lost my job,” I say, eyes dropping to the floor in embarrassment. “As if all of this couldn’t get worse, there’s that.”
“I wish you would’ve quit first.”
My gaze flashes up to Rylie’s and it’s a mistake. His gunmetal eyes hook me, holding me. There’s so much frustration in his expression. So much disdain.
“Not like I’m a particularly desirable job candidate,” I say, voice monotone but laced with self-deprecation. “All I’m good for is eating hot dogs and acting bitchy.”
“Stop it.” The flare of anger in Rylie’s voice makes me flinch, my face falling into a frown. I take a step back. He follows me.
“You stop it,” I say, old habits dying hard and a decent response not at the ready.
“No,youstop it,” he repeats, taking another step. I square my shoulders, meeting him halfway.
“Everything’s a mess and it’s my fault. Don’t tell me to stop when I’m telling it like it is.”
“You are delusional,” he says, color high on his cheeks, nostrils flaring with the labor of his breathing.
“No, you are,” I snap with the petulance of a child. “This will only look bad for you—some lowlife social media wannabe clinging to you and your success and the goddamn kindness of you.”
I’ll be branded a whore, a fame fucker. The internet has already proven itself relentless and this is candy for the comments section. He’ll see what they say about me, he’ll get tired of defending my name. I can’t ask him to weather this storm when it will undoubtably tear our house to the ground.
Rylie’s lip curls in disbelief. “The last thing I care about right now is how this will look for me.”
“I think we should break up.”
“I know you do.”
The calmness of his voice slices me to ribbons, making me blink repeatedly so tears won’t fall. I scramble to compose my face, a placid mask so he can’t see the hurt. “Cool. Glad you agree. It will all be easier for you to do damage control that way.”
Rylie shakes his head, deep lines etched between his eyebrows and around his mouth. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
“No. It’s not.”
I go to fight, but he cuts me off, gripping my shoulders with a grounding pressure.
“I meant exactly what I said, Eva.” His gives me a gentle shake, and it loosens the knot of tears growing behind my eyes.
“I know you think we should break up,” he continues. “I know you think things just got exceptionally messy and the easy thing to do would be to part ways and lick our wounds in private, you adding another layer, another wall, around that heart of yours. Tough shit. I’m saying no.”
I gape at him. “You’re sayingno?”
Rylie shrugs, a flicker of a smile passing over his face. “Yup. I’m saying no. You might say you think we should break up, but that’s the decision of two people, as far as I’m concerned, and my answer is no. I’ll give you space. I’ll give you time. I’ll give you anything you need as long as you actually need it and you aren’t doing it as some self-fulfilling prophecy of disappointment. But I won’t agree to breaking up. Sorry.”
I squirm out of his grip, scrambling back until I’m on the other side of the living room, my couch a barrier between us. I glare at him with a mix of astonishment and irritation. “Well, that’s a really fucking annoying thing to say.”
Rylie’s face shifts through various unreadable emotions, then settles on soft amusement. “Well, Eva, I hate to break it to you, but right now your hardheadedness is really fucking annoying. So I guess we’re even. Doesn’t change my decision, though. We aren’t breaking up.”
I splutter, scraping at the bottom of the barrel for something, anything, that will bring this man to his senses. “Be serious, I’m begging you. The honeymoon phase lasted less than two weeks for us and now we’re already back to arguing. This was a social experiment that was doomed from the start. So stop being so obstinate and let it go.”
“I love you, you little demon.” Rylie storms toward me, eyes lightning bolts. My pulse pounds, panic squeezing a tight fist around my heart and coiling my muscles with the instinct to run. He skirts around the couch. I take a frantic look around the room, but I’ve backed myself into a corner.
“Do you hear me?” he says, stopping only when his toes are touching mine. Both of his hands come up to face, cradling my head in a gentle but firm grip. “I love you.”
