Page 74 of Sweet Addiction
“What the hell do you have to be pissed about? Do you have to call your mom and tell her to not look at social media? Oh yeah, and not to turn onSports Centerwhere they’re about to dissect what everyone is going to think is me having sex?” I finally snap, rage fueling me. “What the actual fuck...” I’m so over this shit. “You knew this was coming, Dillan. This was the whole reason?—”
“Oh, I know what our fake relationship was for, Rome. Trust me. And yeah, I knew this was coming. I just could have used it not happening today.”
“Sorry to inconvenience you, princess.” My teeth grind as I look at her.
“You know what?” Dillan gets right in my face, balancing on the balls of her feet and poking my damn chest. “You try waking up to a million notifications flooding your phone because last night you went to a ball with yourboyfriend.” She uses air quotes around the word, and fuck if that doesn’t piss me off more. “And now...” Another poke to the chest. “Now everyone feels like I’m fair game. Like it’s their right to discuss whether I’m pretty enough to be your girlfriend. Most of them decided I’m not. Some said I’m too thin, but most of them said my ass was too big and my boobs were too small.” She drops back down to her heels. “Oh, and my favorite was the assholes who think I’m too short. Like I can control that? Seriously. I wore five-inch heels last night. What more do they want from me? Do you have any idea how bad my feet hurt after that?”
As if realizing she’s finally yelling—not whispering, actually fucking yelling—she snaps her mouth closed and presses her fingers to her lips as she gathers her composure, and I watch as that damn masks slips back into place. “This is why I don’t havesocial media, Rome. This is why I stopped working for Lilah. This.”
“This is why you hide,” I say out loud before thinking it through.
Shit.
She turns back to me with wild eyes.
Not the right thing to say.
“I’m not hiding.” Dillan’s words are even and measured. Almost practiced.
And they make me laugh because I’m pretty damn sure she believes them. “Yeah, you are. You’re hiding who you are from everyone. Your family. Your friends. Your readers. You, Dillan Ryan, are hiding.”
“I’m protecting my peace. There’s a big difference.” Her eyes narrow on me. “At least I was until you walked into my store and shattered it. I knew this was a bad idea. This is why I stopped working for Lilah.” She tries to brush by me, but I block her escape, and those pissed-off eyes go glacial.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Fuck. Probably should have said that a little nicer.
“Dillan,” my voice softens. “How can I help you if you don’t tell me?”
“You’re not helping me, Beneventi. You’re demanding I helpyou.”
“Aren’t you tired of this? This has got to be our fifth round. They rang the damn bell. The fight is over. It’s a damn draw. So talk to me.” Probably one too many fighting analogies for my little author.
“And what if you don’t like what you see after?” she asks with a trembling voice.
“You really think that’s how this plays out?” I ask, wanting her to see what’s here, right in front of her. She stuffs her handsin the pocket of my hoodie, and I smile. “You look damn good in my clothes,principessa.”
Dillan shakes her head but doesn’t move away, and maybe that’s the first step.
“Have you ever been compared to someone and been found lacking?” she whispers but holds her head up, like she’s determined not to cower under the weight of that question. “By absolutely everyone? Because I have. For years. Once Lilah and Noah exploded onto the music scene and the world took notice, they didn’t just want to talk about Lilah and Noah. They talked about us. Our entire family. My siblings, the international music stars. My mom, the famous author whose best-selling books have been turned into shows and films. My dad, who’s a Hall of Fame quarterback and coach. Even Asher... the whole world knows he’s going in the first round of the draft. We’re a family of overachievers. Everyone but me.”
“Dillan—”
“No. You asked, and I’m not going to talk about this again, so let me get it out. My sister is beautiful and graceful and talented and kind. She has the perfect face. The perfect body. The perfect voice. I don’t. And the world is cruel. Their words are cruel. They pick and pick and pick, not caring what they’re doing to someone’s psyche. Not caring that their words ripping apart a fourteen-year-old girl can be so awful that everyone in school would latch on to each one of them. That hearing how you’re not as pretty or thin or talented could destroy someone. Or better yet, force them to try to control the parts she foolishly convinced herself she could control.”
Tears gather in the corners of her eyes as she bites her bottom lip, and my fucking heart hurts in my chest.
“It’s taken a whole lot of years, a whole lot of therapy, and even more time spent relearning a healthy relationship with food and exercise, but I don’t hate myself anymore. I know mytriggers, Rome. I know them, and I avoid them. But this...” She closes her eyes and blows out a breath before opening them and letting the first tear fall. “This whole situation is a trigger.”
I keep my hands to myself, ignoring every instinct I have to comfort her because this woman doesn’t want my comfort. Not when I’m the reason she’s in pain.
“I still run when I’m stressed. It helps quiet the voices. That’s where I was this morning. And I guess I wasn’t ready for Liv to be here when I got back. Not with this. Not now.”
“You don’t have to do this, Dillan. I didn’t know...” Fuck. I want to take it all away. Everything that hurt her. Forcing her into this.
“I said I’d do it, and I will. It’s too late for us to call this off now. That would just make us both look like fools, and I’m not ready for that either.” She takes a step away. “But Rome... now you know. What you do next is up to you. I have to get showered and go to work.”
I watch her walk away, wondering what the fuck I have to do to break this cycle we’re in.
