“You’re laughing. You think this is funny?”
“No!” His lips straightened, but his eyes still danced with amusement. “Well, maybe just a little,” he confessed. “You have to admit, Tessa, it would’ve been the Catfish episode to end all Catfish episodes.”
She just stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. All that time on Twitter…all those months and months…
As the truth sank in, the panic left her, chased away by the bitter taste of anger.
“No?” he added, still smirking. “Come on! You have my poster hanging above your bed. You wrote a story about me called ‘Obsessed’! And now it turns out that I’m the one you’ve been talking to?”
Tessa’s head reared back, and the metal chair screeched against the floor as she sprang abruptly to her feet. She watched in disbelief as he grinned up at her and laughed.
She let go of the blanket and slapped him hard across the face.
29
NOT FANGIRLING
Eric raised a hand to his cheek, more from the shock than the pain of the blow. It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He’d waited patiently from the moment he entered the room for the full impact of the truth to register. He knew what would come next—or he thought he did at any rate. The unintelligible fangirl scream. Just like when he’d followed her and she’d tweeted in response: “OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!”
But the expression on her face didn’t look like fangirling. If anything, she looked like she was going to throw up. Eric tried his best to school his features into an expression of concern, but he couldn’t quite manage it. The corners of his mouth seemed to have a mind of their own.
He couldn’t help it. How could he not smile? He was finally here, meeting Tessa. Seeing Tessa. And damn if it wasn’t a sight worth waiting for. He couldn’t see her body, shrouded beneath the oversize police blanket, but her face was more than enough: heart shaped, with almond eyes that only seemed to grow larger the longer he stared.
She looked like she’d been through hell, of course. She’d pulled her long, brown hair away from her face in a messy ponytail. Her makeup was hopelessly smudged, with dark rings around both eyes from rubbing away her mascara. But none of that mattered. None of it could hide what he saw in front of him.
Beautiful. More beautiful than he’d ever dared to hope.
But now her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her whole body quivered like a cat about to spring. He cradled his stinging cheek, all trace of humor wiped away. “Tessa, what the hell?”
She sank back down into her chair and buried her face in her hands. “I want the real Taylor. Where’s the real Taylor?” Her shoulders ceased trembling and began to shake in earnest. “There was supposed to be a real Taylor!”
“I’m here!” he said. “Listen to me. I’m right here!”
Eric put a tentative arm around her. He tried to pull her toward him, but Tessa turned in her chair and pushed violently against his chest. “Don’t touch me!”
“Sorry!” He let go and held up his hands. “I’m sorry. Are you OK? Should I get someone?”
She looked back at him at last, with eyes so full of disappointment, it made him want to crawl inside a deep, dark hole. “There’s no real Taylor, is there?” she whispered.
“Tessa,” he said softly. “I should have told you sooner. I just… I wanted to tell you face-to-face. That’s all. That’s why I’m here. I staged this whole fake contest just to come here and meet you.” He scooted out of his chair and squatted down beside her, forcing her to maintain eye contact when she tried to look away. “Tessa, it’s me. Do you hear me? I’m real. You’re real. This connection that we have is real. When you’re the only person on earth who can make me smile anymore, that’s real. That’s the only thing that’s real. It’s everything else in my life that’s fake as hell.”
She didn’t answer. Tears spilled silently down her cheeks. She swiped at her eyes, but she only managed to smear her mascara even more. Eric reached into his pocket—he’d have given his life to hand her a tissue—but he came up empty.
“Tessa,” he tried again, desperate to get through to her. He took her hands in his. “Tessa, listen to me. You know me. Even before we started talking, you saw me better than other people. You could sense that something was wrong. I’m not sure exactly how. Maybe because we were going through some of the same things. Or maybe you’re just really intuitive. But you really saw me. And you listened to me. You’re the only one who listens to a single thing I say anymore. The only one, Tessa. And I listened to you too. I know you too. I know how scared you must have been tonight.”
She snatched her hands away. “You have no idea.”
“Tessa—”
“You have no idea how I felt tonight! You have no idea what I just went through!”
“OK.” He backpedaled, retreating to his chair. “No, that’s true. I don’t. I can only imagine—”
“Did you think I would be excited now?” She let out a harsh breath. “Did you think I would scream and cry and fangirl all over you, and it would all be OK?”
Eric looked down sharply. “I don’t know. I guess I hoped… I don’t know what I hoped. I guess I did think that. A little bit. And obviously I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
She leaned forward once again and rested her head on her arms. Eric longed to reach out and comfort her, but he didn’t dare touch her again. Instead, he looked across the room toward the horizontal mirror built into the opposite wall. A two-way mirror, no doubt. He’d seen enough cop shows to know that much. Were those police detectives watching right now from the other side? Did they find this show entertaining?
He met eyes with his own reflection: Eric Thorn, in the flesh—just a little worse for wear. He could see a dark bruise forming on his forehead, where he’d been struck earlier, rolling around on the ground with Tessa’s stalker. And now he had a new red splotch across his cheek, from where Tessa herself had just slapped him.
Slapped him. After all that. Really?
He took a breath and squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed, Tessa. I really am. But I don’t think I deserved to be slapped.”
She looked up in surprise at the firmness of his tone. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Thank you.”
She tried fruitlessly to wipe her eyes again. “Look, I shouldn’t have slapped you. I’m sure you’re not a bad person,” she said with a loud sniff. “I love your music. You know that. It’s just that today was pretty much the worst day of my life, and I’m not…I’m just not in the right frame of mind for a meet-and-greet—”
“This isn’t a meet-and-greet!”
“I just thought there was going to be someone here at the end of all this who actually wanted to be with me.”