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“Do you think Koen will like them?”
“What I think is that I need to have a talk with him if your relationship has made you think you need to be something different than exactly who you are to impress him, to keep him.”
“I clearly needed to be someone different to keep you.”
He lets up on the gas and pulls to the side of the road. “Excuse me?”
I cross my arms, but I don’t look at him. “Just go. We’re going to miss the show.”
“All of a sudden, I don’t care about the show. Scottie, I didn’t leave you. You let me go. You made the world’s best case for why it wasn’t our time. And I trusted you because I thought you were emotionally more mature than me.”
“You didn’t look back.”
He stabs his fingers through his hair. “I-I was driven, and you were grounded. In hindsight, I needed you. But I wanted something else more. And I thought you wanted your path as much as I wanted mine.”
The second my tears release, I bat them away.
“But, Scottie, I wouldn’t have ended us. Everything with you felt perfect. And when you broke up with me, I realized how distorted my perception of perfection was. After all, who walks away from perfection?”
I sniffle, but I still can’t look at him. “Loving you made no sense. We could not have been more opposite. But it just felt …”
“It did,” he whispers.
Finally, I turn to him, slowly nodding.
“I would have destroyed us,” he says.
I try not to react, but my brow twitches anyway.
He rubs the tension from his neck. “My dreams were too big. I would have tried to make my dreams your dreams, and I would have crushed your soul. I would have taken everything that made you … you. And I would have turned it into dust. But you would have loved me enough to let it happen. When you broke up with me, I was heartbroken, but I was so proud of you for not compromising. You were nineteen. That was way too early to compromise, to bargain for a lesser life.”
“Jesus, Price.” I stare out the window. “I hardly think you’ve lived a lesser life.”
“I gave up what mattered most. And now I’m paying for it.”
Did I matter most?
“We’re going to miss the show.”
He looks at his watch. “Too late.”
“I’ll walk back home.” I open the door.
“Scottie?”
Nope. I can’t do this. Speed-walking down the street, I wipe more tears.
“Scottie!” He jogs after me.
“Go home, Price.”
“Let’s grab dinner. I know you haven’t eaten.”
“Dinner?” I whip around. “What are you going to have? Juice? Are you going to share your juice with me? I haven’t seen you eat solid foods in weeks, and you’re orange. You’re goddamn orange!”
He deflates.
I shake my head a half dozen times. “I don’t want to know.” Pivoting, I jog.
