Page 150 of Jaked

"Oh my God," I breathed. "That's so awful."

"Yeah, a giant clusterfuck, huh?"

"No. Not you," I said. "The situation."

"Right."

He met my gaze, and his voice grew ragged. "So when I tell you I love you, thatdoesn'tmean it's a good thing. Don't you get it? Even when I try to do the right thing, it turns out wrong." He gave a hollow laugh. "And most of the time, I don't even try."

"That's not true," I said.

"Yes. It is. And that's why, when all this is over, you need to move on."

I studied his face. His words said one thing, but his face said another. I couldn't let it go. And not only for my sake. "Oh come on," I said. "The Debbie thing was years ago. Ancient history."

"It's not about Debbie," he said. "For every story like that, I've got a million more." He leaned over me, and I felt the promise of a kiss. "I meant what I said. I do love you. I've loved you for years. But I hope to God that you never love me back."

"But why?"

"Because I ruin everything I touch. And I don't wanna ruin you."

"Jake," I said, "look at this place. You're successful. You're famous. Girls literally throw themselves at you. I don't think you're seeing yourself clearly. You haven't ruined anything. You've built something to be proud of. Why can't you see that?"

"I see it." He looked around. "This stuff, the money, yeah, it's sweet as shit. I'm not gonna deny it. But you know what youdon'tsee?"

"What?"

"Behind all this, there's a long string of people who hate my fucking guts. And you what?"

"What?"

"I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Hell no," he said. "I piss off people every day, and have a shitload of fun doing it."

"But what doesthathave to do with anything?" I asked.

He shoved a hand through his hair. "Nothing. Everything. I don't know."

My head was reeling from the whiplash of emotions swirling around the room. He claimed to love me, but he wanted me to leave. Hehadto be lying, whether to himself, or to me, because both things couldn’t be true at the same time.

Could they?

As if reading my confusion, he moved forward and reached out for me. There was something so lost about him that I couldn’t stop myself from falling into his arms. To comfort him? Or to comfort me? Probably both.

Melted against him, I spoke against his chest. "Jake?"

"Yeah."

"That thing you said, that you, uh, love me?"

"Yeah?"

"Just how many girls have you said that to?"

"Including you?" he asked.