Page 113 of Things I Read About

“But the dream is not me. It wasn’t in Park City, not now, not ever. Did you not hear the part about being angry, and violent, and broken?”

“I think you’re just scared.”

“Fine, add that to the list.” He looks up, puts his hands on his hips and stares at the ceiling. Then he looks back down at me, and I can tell it’s over. He’s done. Except he adds, “I know I led you on. I do care, of course, you’re a sweet, smart girl. And your family pisses me off. Especially Shep Asshole Riggs. But I’m not really what you want and you’re not really what I want. I’m sorry.”

All I can do is shake my head and cry. I press my lips together, determined not to say anything else. Even if he’s lying, to himself and to me. Even if he’s trying to protect me, whether he knows it or not. I can only take so much rejection.

“Let me walk you back to the house.” He reaches out for my elbow again.

“N-no.” I pull my arm away. “You s-stay back. However far away you can do your job. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

This time, I mean it.

But once again, I flee from Nate straight into my sisters, literally standing in my way as I barge into the front door of the house.

“What happened?”

“Sally?”

”Sweetie?”

“Tell us everything!”

”Shep, get ready to punch somebody!”

I hold up a hand. I have learned in my life that it is much easier to proactively spell things out for my sisters than it is to let them nag me tirelessly until I confess.

“I am going to bed. Because I am in love with my bodyguard, and he has rejected me three times. Four, if you count the non-kiss in Park City.”

“He what!”

“Who could reject you!”

“We hate him!”

”Shep, seriously.”

”Well, obviously we’ll get him fired. Ferg—”

“Stop,” I say, climbing up the stairs, needing to physically rise above the chaos. “We are not getting him fired or punching him. I am heartbroken, metaphorically, but maybe also physically?” I rub at my aching chest. “But he didn’t do anything wrong. I just kept throwing myself at him like a fool. Soon this will all be over, and he’ll be gone. Until then, Nate and I go on the list, with Voldemort and Adam, of things that must not be named, okay?”

“But—”

“No! No buts. I’ll see you in the morning, when we willnottalk about this.”

I march upstairs and, as is usual, straight into the shower to sob. I stay in there forever. I barely get dry before climbing into bed. I bury under the covers to hide from it all.

But I can't hide.

The morning comes, and with it, my sisters.

29

“Sal?” Someone whispers.

“Sweetie, wake up.”

“Suze?” I say into my pillow. “I said I didn’t want to talk about Nate.”