I always thought we were just denying that we wanted nothing more than to be friends, saving ourselves from the reality of what could happen if we didn’t work out. But hearing her say those words without so much as a blink of an eye, feels like a bullet to the fucking chest, releasing the reality that I am nothing to Jessica and never will be.
I look back at her, her arms crossed in front of her, her blonde hair blowing with the breeze. I glance back at myself, all puffed out and angry. I’ve lost control. I’ve fucking snapped. I can’t do this anymore.
“We are done,” I mutter.
“What?” she asks frazzled, her eyes widening at my statement.
“You don’t want anything from your life to be my business. Don’t want to tell me anything about your past, even though it was me who got you away from your past!” I shout. “Let me make it easy for you. We. Are. Done,” I snap, my jaw ticking.
“Bobby,” Jessica cries out, her tone distraught. I throw my hand up dismissing her, walking back to my bike.
I slam my helmet on my head, looking at Jessica’s pleading eyes as I start my bike. My heart is hammering against my chest and my body is sweating with my impulsive outburst. I don’t want to walk away from Jessica. I don’t want us to be over. But she has clearly made her mind up about me; that I am nothing more than a good fuck. I’m done taking the attention she throws my way. I need more from her. Me ending us will either have her step outside her comfort zone and give me more of her, or it will end us indefinitely. My chest tightens with that last thought, my hand itching to pull my helmet off and go cradle Jessica in her distressed state. All I have ever wanted was to keep her safe, make her happy. But how can I when she won’t let me in at all? It doesn’t have anything to do with crossing the line and complicating things. It’s about trust. I blow out a breath, look away from her, and drive from my parking spot.
5
Jessica
Is he serious? Is he walking away from me and leaving me? My chest burns and my throat constricts from the emotions bubbling up inside of me, demanding to be released. He just threw me to the side in the middle of a parking lot. I grab the newspaper and stomp inside the hospital searching for Shane. I want to know why I had my fucking picture taken with him, why I’m supposedly engaged to him, and why anyone would care enough to put it in the paper.
Just as I enter the hospital doors, I find him coming out of a patient’s room. I grab him by the shirt, and drag him into the lounge. Tripping over his feet as he tries to keep up with me, I pull him along.
“What the hell is this?” I snap angrily, slapping the newspaper to his chest once we are alone.
He looks at me confused, shock laced in his raised eyebrows from my angry tone as he grabs the paper.
“Shit,” he mutters, looking at the paper, his hands running through his perfectly combed hair.
“What the hell, Shane?” I ask.
“I’m sorry about this, Jessica,” he replies? looking the paper over.
“Why does the paper care if you are engaged? Who are you?” I demand, questions flying from my mouth quickly.
Shane sighs, dropping his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
“My father,” Shane remarks, like that just answered everything. “He is a retired actor. Reece Meldon,” he elaborates.
My eyes widen. I know exactly who that is. He was in some big action movies years back. “Ever since I was a kid, I have had people follow me around shoving cameras in my face. All hoping one day I would follow in my father’s footsteps,” he continues, setting the paper down on a nearby table. “I went to the jewelry store yesterday to get my watch fixed. It must have caught some wind. People get paid for stories and the paper just prints them, whether they are true or not,” he adds.
This is what he was hiding last night, when that guy took a picture of us outside the coffee shop. He could have easily fixed this problem then. He could have taken the camera, beat the guy up, anything. I close my eyes and sigh. Listen to me, ‘beat the guy up’. Bobby has rubbed off on me; the club has tainted my mind. Bobby, his look of anger and disappointment when he threw the paper at me flashes in my mind. He just walked away from me because of this shit. Leaving me feeling emptier than I have ever felt.
“This caused me a lot of problems,” I remark, pointing to the newspaper. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
“It won’t happen again,” Shane states, nodding and looking at the paper now resting on the table.