Page 57 of Falling for the Pucking Bad Boy

"I know," Rory whispers back, her hands finding my chest as if grounding herself, “But we have to keep juggling for a bit longer."

The word 'juggle' doesn't sit well with me anymore. It tastes like a compromise, a stopgap, a way to bide our time until we figure out how to make this work.

I press my forehead against hers, taking in her scent, the same one lingering on my pillowcase when she’s with me long after she's gone.

"We’re getting pretty good at this bittersweet routine, aren't we?" I ask, half-joking, but the reality is shittier than I want to admit.

She responds with a small, pained smile, her eyes betraying the same heartache I feel every time we get to this part—the goodbye.

"Too good," she agrees.

With every elevator descent, I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. The thought of her taking to the skies without me is maddening.

"I don't want 'goodbye' to be part of our vocabulary," I say, the words thick in my throat because each one is harder than the last.

"Then let's say 'see you soon' instead," she offers, but her voice breaks the tiniest bit, showing me how much she wishes that weren't the case. “And we will.”

The elevator dings softly then, announcing our arrival at the lobby level and signaling my time is up.

She needs to go home, and I need to continue keeping my head in the game.

As the doors slide open, I steal one last kiss, deeper than the rest, my hands cradling her face. “I’ll miss you, Snowflake.”

“I’ll miss you more.”

I force myself to step back and grab her hand to lead her into the bustling area of folks checking in and out of the hotel.

Outside, it’s a beautiful day as I flag down a cab. It does nothing to lighten my mood as I turn around and face her one last time.

She tries to smile at me again, but this is starting to become a bitch. I have weeks until the season ends, and it feels like a century. I’m unsure how I will last, but I will because of her.

“You good, baby?” I solicit before she gives me a nod. “Text me before you take off and when you land, okay?”

“Okay.”

Giving her one last kiss, I reach for the door and open it to get her inside, and that’s when it happens.

Where our lives change forever in multiple flashes that blind us.

Like a swarm of locusts, the paparazzi have descended upon us, and it’s over.

Our secret is out.

Her name ricochets off the hotel walls, paired with mine in a strange and unwelcome chorus.

"Are you two a couple?"

"How long has this been going on?"

The questions are fired off in rapid succession. I am stunned, standing there with a million questions in my head. How?

How did they find out?

What did we do wrong?

"Rory, how's your father going to react to you dating Wells?" one of the paparazzi shouts, and that’s when it hits me.

We’re fucked.

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