Page 56 of The Fake Script

22

Not Leaving

Auston

Yesterday was torture. Just when I thought things with Emma were moving in the right direction, we took three steps back. I was sure she was going to let me kiss her. Maybe making a move after talking about our past wasn’t such a good idea. I hurt her back then. More than I realized at the time. She may pretend otherwise, but I see the pain I inflicted on her, and I don’t know how to fix it.

She’s still asleep when I wake up—well, “wake up” isn’t exactly the word I’d use since I barely slept. I couldn’t stop tossing and turning, slipping the covers on and off, unable to bear the heat despite the AC being set on “cool.”

I quietly crawl out of bed, grab my tracksuit and sneakers, and slip into the hallway. Maybe some fresh air will do me good.

When I reach the elevator, I come across Cillian emerging from his room. His sudden appearance makes me jolt.

“Dude!” I place a hand on my heart as I step into the elevator. “You scare me sometimes, you know that? Do you have a tracker implanted in my neck or something?”

He rolls his eyes as the elevator descends to the ground floor. “Relax. I’m just going for a run.”

“Me too.”

The elevator doors slide open.

Cillian gets out, then stops, one eyebrow arched. “Race you to the beach? For old times’ sake.” We used to run every day but with my schedule getting so hectic, we had to stop.

“Please.” I scoff. “I’m a grown man. I’m not going to race y—” Then, I break into a run. I know, I know. It’s a low blow, but Cillian is military-trained. I needed to balance the scales.

Except he still wins, looking back at me with an annoying, smug grin.

Having reached the sand, we jog along the beach, and my chest already feels lighter. I knew it was a good idea to come out here. I’m more relaxed after jogging for thirty minutes than I was after eight hours in bed.

We keep going for a while, then catch a break on a rock.

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s wrong?” Cillian asks, handing me a water bottle. “It’s Emma, isn’t it?”

“Why do you always say that?”

“Because it always is.” He laughs. “And you haven’t gone running this early in a while. Especially not during a shoot.”

“Fine.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Yeah, it’s Emma.”

“I don’t get it. I saw you grab snacks yesterday. I thought the faking thing was going your way.”

“Okay, now you’re really scaring me,” I say, shooting a side glance at him. “You need to stop taking your job so seriously.”

He just shakes his head.

“Well, itwasgoing my way. Emma was opening up to me, and we were having a good time. But somehow, we ended up talking about the past again. She says she doesn’t care about what happened, but I can see in her eyes that I hurt her, and she won’t let me apologize.”

“Maybe she’s just not ready.If it was working up until then, just keep going, and feel it out. Don’t be too hasty.”

“I guess you’re right. It’s just . . . she’s so different. You should have seen her back in high school. So full of life. Now, every time I look at her, I see the pain in her eyes.”

“I’m sorry, lad.”

We stay seated on the rock a moment longer, watching the ocean and the seagulls soaring above.

“Race you back to the hotel?” he asks, clasping his hands.

I shake my head. “Hard pass.” Is this guy some kind of machine?

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