Page 59 of Verses Of Us

“No, you are. And you don’t even see it. You know what it is you want. You don’t take shit from anyone. Hell, you’ve put me in my place a few times. Everybody walks on eggshells around me, as if what they say might backfire. And lord knows they all lie to my face.”

“Have you ever stopped and asked why that is?”

Puzzled, he looked at her as if she’d spoken another language.

She arched an eyebrow. “You said it yourself; they treat you like thisthing. But it’s not like you’re the antithesis of the typical spoiled rockstar. You get off on it.”

“I suppose.” He grinned, swiping his tongue over his teeth. “No one ever told me to stop, though.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Are you sure they haven’t?” She could imagine Clark, or even his old manager, Anthony, speaking up about his behaviour. She could also picture Ciarán’s entitled response. “You act so blinded by the spotlights that you can’t see what sort of person you are anymore. I’m sure you know when you’re being that guy and not the real Ciarán.”

His smile faded, his eyes growing distant. “I can’t even remember a time in my life when I wasn’t doing this.” He slid his fingers through his hair, shaking it out. Strands stuck out and Alexis longed to run her fingers through them to fix them. “I don’t think I know who the real Ciarán is anymore.”

Her emotions were way too close to the surface. She needed to be careful and keep from revealing too much. She kept her voice to a whisper. “You’re the real Ciarán when you’re with me.”

“Am I?” His face contorted as he looked away. “I’m not even sure who that guy is or who I’m supposed to be.”

“When you’re around me?” she asked. A deep swallow followed his nod. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know…”

“Would it be better if I left? Should we say our goodbyes and forget this happened? Again.”

She straightened up, but didn’t trust her legs would let her stand.

“Don’t be daft,” he retorted, without malice. “You and I both know we can’t forget this.”

“Why did you bring me here, then? What’s your point? Because this feels like—” Her voice shook and she cut her words short.

“Like what? Say it.”

She turned to meet his gaze, his sad eyes taunting the honesty out of her. “Like a breakup.”

The smug way he raised his eyebrows made her want to smack him.

“You see? You’re treating this like a relationship. And it’s not. You understand it’ll never be one, right?”

The bottom dropped out beneath her, as if someone had ripped the sofa away. They didn’t work that way, but did she want to brush off any chance it might ever happen? Not exactly. Somewhere deep inside, she wanted to believe they could work, if he just tried…

He took her stunned silence as nothing more and kept talking. “We’ll never be that couple who walks hand in hand down the street. We’ll never be the couple that gets married and has kids.”

She went to get up, but he gripped her wrist and sat her back down. Not for one second did she fear him or think he’d hurt her—she understood he needed to say something important. But that didn’t mean she wanted to hear it and she shook her arm loose.

“Dating me means you can’t do whatever you want. We won’t ever be more than this.” He gestured between them. “We’ll always have to hide our kisses and shags and it’ll all lead to eventual goodbyes.” Her hands shook, but she clenched them tight. “I thought you understood that, and I assumed we were on the same page about all this.”

“Fuck, I get it!” she yelled, the weight of what was going on slamming down on her like an anvil dropped from an unspeakable height.

Anger barged in along with resentment for Ciarán because though he hadn’t misled her—he’d never promised her more—he hadn’t stopped this from happening, either. And disappointment in herself for not keeping her heart out of it.

That first night, when she’d agreed to dinner, she’d known it was a mistake. A mistake that would come back to haunt her. She’d been so naïve to dip her foot in the same pool and expect a different outcome. She saw this coming, but let her guard down and let it happen all the same.

She stood up and walked to the window, trying to wrangle her thoughts into a cohesive sentence.

“Lex?”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

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