Page 21 of Venus

My gas pump clicks off automatically with a loud thunk . I yank the nozzle out and shove it back into its dirty cradle with more force than necessary. I’ve been a mess these past few days. My head is in another galaxy.

I thought seeing Carter again would fix everything and that things would feel normal again, but I was so wrong. He showed up, puppy dog eyes begging me to tell him everything will be okay. Instead of giving that to him, I gave him my body instead.

And I could tell by the end of it that it wasn’t enough for him. The way he looked at me, so defeated but hopeful, made me want to crawl out of my own skin.

I should have seen this coming. Scratch that—I did see this coming. The jokes softened. The silences became more comfortable. The trauma-dumping happened. The way he began to touch me suddenly felt different. He was no longer just undressing me, but aching to understand me.

And I let him. I didn’t stop him. Not even once. Because I stupidly told myself it was harmless. I told myself he knew what he got into and he wasn’t really falling.

But he did, and I watched it while doing nothing to stop it.

And as soon as things got complicated, I had the luxury of running away because I don’t feel the way he does. That makes me a selfish coward. I should have just stabbed him in the heart. It might have hurt less than sleeping with him again.

I realize I’ve been staring at the little receipt at the pump a little too long. I tear it free, shove it into my purse, and make my way inside the convenience store. I hope caffeine and a snack will reset my brain.

That’s when I see him.

No, not him him. Not Carter him . Jackson him .

He has a red Gatorade in his hand and his jaw is set in that kind of way where you just know the man is irritated. I happen to meet his eyes and give him a familiar smile out of habit.

“Hey,” I offer.

He doesn’t smile back, and sharply says, “Hey.”

I tilt my head trying to read him. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he snaps again, sounding even more irritated.

In between the chips and the Twix, I cross my arms in front of him. “What is your problem? ”

He faces me, full-on stares me down like a disappointed father, and sneers. “My problem is that you’re fucking with a guy who doesn’t deserve it.”

I feel like he’s just splashed cold water on my face. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. That shit you’ve been doing to Carter, screwing with a guy who would move the fucking moon and stars for you. That’s my problem.”

A woman sneaks in and steals a bag of pretzels from behind Jackson’s frame. “Don’t paint me out to be some manipulative villain. He knew exactly what this was from the start.”

Jackson’s stare doesn’t waver. “Yeah. He did. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“I didn’t promise him anything.”

“No,” he says, stepping closer, “but you knew. You saw the shift. You watched him fall, and you kept showing up anyway.”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” I snap. “He’s an adult. He could’ve walked away anytime.”

Jackson leaned in, voice sharp. “He’s stupidly in love with you. It’s kinda sick how you know it, and you still keep going back. You keep letting him believe that maybe this time you’ll feel the same.”

I look away. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he said, softer now. “You should’ve pulled back. Should’ve been honest. Not for you—for him. Calling him these past few weeks was a mistake. You knew you still didn’t want more, but yet he came running to you every time because he loves you and wants you to see it.”

I don’t have a comeback that doesn’t sound like a sorry excuse. Because everything he’s saying? It’s not wrong. He’s read me and Carter’s thing like an open book, and now I’m the antagonist in my own story.

“Look, whoever you really are, ‘ Venus’ , you’re not a bad person,” he says, “But you’re doing a bad thing. You’re playing with my best friend’s feelings like putty and I don’t like it. You’re just going to break him.”

“I still don’t understand how this is my fault.” My voice cracks a little, more frustration than volume. “Why is it always the woman who gets blamed for feelings? Callie said the same thing to me. Apparently I signed up to be the bad guy in someone else’s fantasy. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Maybe you didn’t ask for it, but it happened, and you let it. That’s why you’re the bad guy. If you don’t feel that way about him, that’s fair, but at least break it off for his sake. He’s in too deep and I don’t think he has it in him to be the one to let this go. You have to do it.”

“You don’t get it,” I mutter.

“Then explain it.”

“You’re acting like I don’t care about him at all, like I want to hurt him. I like him. Is that what you want to hear? I like Carter, a lot. But he knows why I don’t want commitment, and I’m not changing that because things got messy. I’ve been clear with him from the start.”

“All of that would have been fine if you had let him go. But you didn’t.

You’ve called him every time you’ve gotten lonely and he came running like a lousy puppy to his owner.

And now you’re throwing a tantrum and acting like a selfish brat because you played with his feelings.

You let him fall for you until he was in a hole he can’t climb out of anymore.

” He takes a deep breath, and I’m stuck staring at him.

He turns from me. “I said what I needed to say. Enjoy that commitment-less life. I hope the sex was worth breaking him.”

And just like that, he walks off, checks out at the cashier, and leaves. When I get back into my car, I just…sit. No music. No tears. No A/C.

Just as I’m getting ready to leave, my phone buzzes with a new text.

Carter: Come over?

I stare at his name for a long time. I type the word no and hover my thumb over the send button.

Then I clear the text box and retype yes .

And just like that, I realize I really am the villain.