Page 147 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

“Wren, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, not meeting my eyes. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

It’s a lie and we both know it. But I don’t push because I can see the walls going up, see her retreating into herself the way she always does when she gets scared.

“We can’t keep doing this, Ryan.”

Something cold settles in my stomach. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not real.”

The words hit me harder than they should. “Feels pretty real to me.”

“That’s because you’re good at making things feel real in the moment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugs, but there’s something brittle in the gesture. Something defensive. “Guys like you are always good at this.Making things feel intense and important when they’re really just… temporary.”

“Guys like me?”

“You know what I mean.”

But I don’t. I really don’t. The fact that she thinks she has me all figured out, that she’s already writing the ending to this story before we’ve even figured out what it is, pisses me off more than it should.

“Actually, I don’t know what you mean. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

She crosses her arms. “Forget it.”

“No, seriously. Tell me about guys like me. I’m curious.”

“Ryan, don’t.”

“You brought it up.”

We’re staring at each other across the kitchen now. I can feel the energy between us shifting into something dangerous. Something that’s going to end badly for both of us.

“You think you know me?” I ask, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “You think I get bored of people?”

She opens her mouth to say something but I don’t let her.

“You know who didn’t get bored of you? Me. When your brother was too busy being the golden boy to notice his little sister sitting in the corner with a book, when every other guy our age looked right past you like you weren’t worth seeing, I noticed you, Wren. I always noticed you.”

She flinches like I’ve slapped her. Her eyes go bright and her throat works around words she can’t seem to get out.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and loaded.

“Tell me how I’d leave you first,” I say quietly. “Because I wouldn’t.”

“Ryan…”

“I’m not fighting with you about this.” I run my hands through my hair, trying to keep my temper in check. “Not about something you made up in your head.”

But we fight anyway.

The words fly between us, sharp and scared and hot with everything we haven’t been able to say. She accuses me of not taking this seriously, of treating her like a game. I accuse her of being too scared to try, of deciding I’m going to hurt her before I’ve even had the chance.

“You don’t understand what it’s like,” she says, her voice rising. “To always be the consolation prize. The backup plan. The girl guys settle for when they can’t have who they really want.”