Page 135 of Save Your Breath

I just hoped I made it in time.

The Last Nail

Aleks

I couldn’t go through with it.

I knew I’d have my ass handed to me by Isabella and Giana. I knew Mia would scream at me and tell me how I’d ruined everything. Even as I peeled Renee, the girl I was supposed to be making out with, off my lap, I tried to think of an alternative, a way to fix the mess I was about to create.

But I didn’t care. Even if I couldn’t figure something out, even if I had to answer to the feminine rage of all three of those women, that was just how it would have to be.

Because I couldn’t go through with it.

I could barely stomach the blonde when she grabbed my hand and led me to the VIP area of Boomer’s — just like she had been paid to do. She’d signed an NDA, too, one that would ensure all our asses were covered.

I was supposed to hold her in my lap, get wasted, kiss up her neck and let her stick her tongue down my throat. I was supposed to slide a hand under her dress just in eyeshot of the locals with their phones at the ready. I was supposed to throw it all away, smirk, and soak it up like the playboy they wanted to paint me as.

The playboy I used to be.

But I couldn’t. I just…couldn’t.

Renee wore her confusion on her face when I stood, leaving her on the couch where I’d been. I didn’t answer her questions as I shrugged on my light jacket and made my way toward the door.

The whiskey I’d ordered was completely untouched.

Phone cameras followed me as I weaved through the crowded bar. I found it hard to believe how this place was my solace just five months ago, the one place I wanted to go to escape and feel something, or sometimes, just to go numb but not be alone.

Now, it was hell on Earth.

I didn’t want to drink. I didn’t want to dance. I didn’t want to touch or be touched by anyone.

No one but Mia.

“Aleks, who was that girl you were with?” I heard someone ask my back as I shrugged past. “Does Mia know about her?”

I wondered if it was the girl they’d tipped off. What was her name… Stella? I was supposed to confirm her suspicions. I was supposed to give her content to put me on blast and hammer the last nail into my coffin.

Instead, I ignored her, along with every other fan who said my name, told me they loved me, asked for a picture or an autograph or a kiss. I kept my eyes down, hands in my pockets, pushing through the crowd.

I could walk home. It was only about two miles and I needed the fresh air. Maybe I’d walk down by the river.

Maybe I’d throw myself into it.

When I pushed through the door that led into a perfectly pleasant November night in Florida, I paused.

People were waiting in line to get in, the bouncers checking IDs at the door and letting in only as many people as they saw come out. There was a bustle of noise when I emerged, and then screams from the women, hollers from the men, all ofthem calling my name or a question or a love confession or a combination of the three.

I should go back inside.

Now that I was out here, guilt crept through me like thick sludge. I was ruining everything. I was putting Mia in an even worse position all because… what? Because I had feelings for her? Because I always had?

I knew that when I agreed to this.

I knew what it was and what it wasn’t.

How fucking selfish could I be, to throw away the whole thing in the final act just because I suddenly decided I couldn’t deal?

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a long exhale, cursing under that breath as my shoulders fell.