Page 30 of The Love Rematch
Emily arches a brow. “Are you really in a position to give me dating advice?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Since when?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Why not?”
“Emily.”
He says her name like a plea, each letter dragging like the edges of a serrated knife getting caught in the mounting tension. They’re toe to toe, breathing heavily into the silence. Their chests eb and flow like a tide, together, apart, together, apart. Her neck arches up. His bends down. This close, she can almost taste the words he won’t say.
Before, she was the one who looked away.
Now, she needs to know.
“Say it,” she demands.
“What?”
“Whatever it is you came here to say, Jake. Stop pretending it was to warn me about the toxic world of reality TV. Or do you really think I’m such a naive idiot, I didn’t do any research before handing myself over to your show?”
His jaw clenches.
“Say it.”
One second passes.
Two.
The room is hot. Steam billows from the shower, making his shirt mold to his skin. She’s half tempted to reach out and throttle the answer out of him, but in the thick vapors swirling around them like a veil from the outside world, she doesn’t trust herself. The heart he broke? Still a malfunctioning disaster. But her body can’t seem to remember that and she leans a little bit closer. The muscles in his neck relax. His Adam’s apple lowers and lifts slowly, his skin glistening with a sweaty sheen.
“Why did you leave New York?”
Emily jerks back as if slapped. The room spins.
“I saw it in your file,” he continues. “You were there for less than a year. You postponed your acceptance to FIT, and then withdrew without even taking a class. Why? What possible reason could you have had for doing that? For abandoning your dream?”
She reaches a hand to the wall to steady herself, completely unprepared for the onslaught of fear and pain that courses through her, all consuming. He sees her reaction, he must, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, his voice becomes more demanding, laced through with the sort of hurt he’s always tried so hard to hide, as if her choice betrayed everything they once stood for.
“And don’t give me some bullshit answer like you weren’t cut out for it. You were made for that school, for that city. What the hell happened?”
He’s right.
She was made for it.
The few hours she spent there were a stolen slice of the life she could have had. She’d allowed herself one morning to walk the halls, pretend to be an incoming student, and sit in on some of the classes she would never be able to take. One morning to breathe in the energy of so many passionate creatives. One morning to imagine what it could have been like to be just another dreamer in a city overflowing with them. And then she walked to the main office, withdrew her acceptance, and flew home.
She ran from New York.
She’s been running ever since.
And she isn’t about to stop now.
“Get out, Jake.”
He blinks at her dark tone, all the frustration in his face seeping away, replaced by uncertainty. He’s gone too far, and he knows it, but it’s obvious he doesn’t understand why. Her throat burns. The pressure on her chest grows, no longer pushing inward from his presence, but outward, a bomb ready to explode, all her secrets and all her control slowly unraveling. He lifts his hand and lets it hover, as if unsure he’s allowed to close the space between them.
