He cannot touch me, or I will come apart at the seams.
I turn, hands thrown out like a shield so he won’t get any nearer. Five feet apart, frozen in place, our eyes lock instantly — green and blue colliding in a starburst. The air goes electric. The voices at my back go mute. We don’t move or speak or do anything except stand there, searching for words we cannot fathom.
It hurts to see him. To see that he is just as beautiful as I remember — perhaps even more so. To feel the crippling ache of loss that’s gnawed at my stomach like a canker since we left Hawaii. Since the day I realized I was mourning something that was never mine to begin with.
His mouth opens, closes, and opens again, but no sound escapes.
There is nothing to say.
There is everything to say.
I hate you.
I miss you.
I hate that I miss you.
Six weeks of distance. Six weeks of space. Six weeks of letting heartbreak run its course until he was out of my head, erased from my bloodstream… and yet, in this moment, without him ever touching me, I feel a sharp tug inside my chest, as though he’s holding a thread wrapped directly around the valves of my heart and reeling me in, heedless of the damage he’s doing to my most fragile organ.
Killing me for sport.
“It’s good to see you,” he says in an unreadable voice. “You— you look great, Kat.”
Is that really the best you can come up with, Grayson?
My teeth sink into my lip again to keep from saying something I’ll regret. I try to remember Harper’s advice.
You are Katharine Motherfucking Firestone.
Don’t let him see how much he hurt you.
Don’t give him the satisfaction, honey.
He runs a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture. “Listen, I should’ve— I was going to call you after— after—” He’s uncharacteristically nervous. Two months ago, it would’ve made me cartwheel.
I have the power to make Grayson Dunn stutter, to leave the Sexiest Man Alive at a loss for words.
Now, I only feel numb as I watch him searching for excuses. Looking for a way to spin his absence into a pardonable offense. Always, always, always attempting to manipulate the situation to his best advantage with the least amount of effort.
“I don’t— It just—” He sighs. Shrugs. Smiles endearingly. “I thought maybe you’d reach out to me.”
Of course you did, Grayson.
I stare at him in silence.
His eyes scan my face, searching for a crack in my impenetrable indifference.
“Kat,” he murmurs, in that voice that used to incinerate all my careful defenses down to ash.
I am a stone. I will not move. I will not speak. I will not break.
“I should’ve called. I get that.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “The past few weeks have just been a nightmare of—”
“You know what?” I say brightly, smiling like I’ve just snorted a line of Prozac. “We don’t have to do this.”
He flinches. “Do what?”
“This. This polite, awkward, talking-around-each-other’s-feelings thing.” I shrug, as though his presence three feet away isn’t slowly leeching all the strength from my bones. “In Hawaii… We had a moment. That moment is over. Let’s just get through this press tour like professionals and then go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.”