Page 74 of Fake Crown

“Ordering an Uber to take me to the airport.”

“You don’t need an Uber. I can drive you.” I step forward to take her bag, and she kicks it behind her without looking up. Somewhat impressive. I would have thought her bag was heavy. The one she took to Bermuda was small but mighty.

She clicks her phone closed, and when her gaze meets mine, the other shoe drops. This wasn’t just a conversation about whatever shit Val’s been talking. I’ve missed some subtext here, but I’m still too dense to get it. My gut twists, and it’s so fierce, I can feel it in my chest too.

“Am I going to see you after the break?” I ask.

“You mean around campus?” She crosses her arms and checks over her shoulder. Ubers never take long.

My heart dips into my feet like I’m on a rollercoaster. I stare at her, and I search for whatever wording won’t scare her off. Each version I prep in my head doesn’t quite strike the right note between caring and indifferent. They’re all fucking desperate.

“I think our fake relationship has run its course, don’t you?” she says. “Something has to stop. I guess it’s us.”

A black SUV approaches from the end of the parking lot, and it inches along. Whoever is inside is clearly scanning the complex for their pickup.

“Posey,” I say, and I try to reach for her just as the car draws flush with the curb.

She jerks her arm out of my reach and opens the rear door to toss her bag in. When she makes eye contact with me, there are tears in her eyes.

There’s a vise around my chest, and I don’t know what to say to fix whatever I’ve fucked up.

“This is why I don’t do relationships,” she says. “One way or another, a guy always lets me down.” She ducks into the SUV, and she tugs the door shut behind her before I can get a word out in response.

I throw up my arms at the retreating vehicle, and then I draw them over my head in frustration. She changed her flight, and she came here to break up with me. Wouldn’t have mattered what I said. But the idea of just letting her go makes my stomach flip, and I take my phone out of my pocket.

We should talk when you get back. It’s not fake for me. Hasn’t been for a long time.

I stare at my screen waiting for it to tell me the message has been delivered or read, but there’s nothing. The wind kicks up around me, and I let out a sigh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My feelings for her are real, but I’m not sure how much that’ll matter. She’s convinced herself we won’t work, and with an ocean between us, I don’t know how I change her mind.

My younger sister bumps my shoulder in the kitchen of our family’s chalet in Utah. “At what point do you snap out of this foul mood?”

When Posey reads my fucking text. It’s been delivered, but it’s sitting unread. Un-fucking-read. Her stubborn streak shouldn’t be a surprise. She’s resisted taking even a whiff of the relationship I was cooking between us.

“Why don’t you just call her?” Nicole says.

“She won’t even read my text message. She’s not going to take a phone call from me.”

“What Val did was pretty shitty. You said none of it was true? Have you watched the video yet?” Nicole grabs a glass from one of the cupboards and flicks the switch for the coffee maker.

Although I don’t technically have to train for the almost week I’m here with my family, I’ve been taking the public bus to a local athletics center to swim every day. We’re supposed to be skiing, but sticking my face in the water and watching a pace clock is the only thing that seems to soothe this spidering ache that’s with me no matter what I’m doing. No other girl has wedged herself so deeply into my conscious and subconscious thoughts. Any time something amusing or interesting happens, I make a mental note to tell Posey, and then I realize I can’t tell her. There’s a chance I’ll never tell her anything ever again.

“There’s no point in watching a video filled with lies,” I say. “Doesn’t make any of it true.”

“Want a woman’s perspective?” Nicole asks.

“You think I should ask Mom?” I give her a wry smile.

She shoves my shoulder and pours herself a cup of coffee. “Val did your girl dirty. What’d you do in response?”

“Why would I respond?” I get my own cup and pour myself coffee too.

“Was Posey upset about what Val said?” Nicole huffs out a breath.

I stir the sugar and cream into my coffee while I replay all the conversations Posey and I had about Val. To be honest, I knew other people were bothering Posey on campus, but I didn’t consider the full impact of that on her.