Page 66 of Falling Off Script

“You’re soft for her.”

I don’t flinch. Don’t blink.

Just say, “That memo stays off the record.”

Jessie smirks.

For a second, neither of us speaks. I can hear my own heartbeat and the faint sound of Jessie opening another snack.

Finally, she says, “Okay. I’ll float the idea.”

I nod. “Carefully. Make it sound like it came from you.”

“And if she says no?”

“Then I find another way to fix it,” I say.

“But not as good.”

I don’t answer.

Jessie gives me a long look. “You realize, if this works, she’s going to be part of your life for more than a week.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Yeah,” Jessie mutters, pulling up her Messages app. “That’s the part that’s going to get you in trouble.”

I don’t argue. Just watch Jessie type.

This is a strategic play—nothing more.

Emily needs the win as much as I do.

So if I can use her without hurting her?

Technically, that is generosity.

30. Emily

Rachel sits on the couch like her bones have been replaced with static. The blazer’s gone. So are the earrings. She’s wearing a zip-up sweatshirt and existential dread. No makeup, hair in a bun so angry it’s practically protesting.

“I regret breaking up with him,” she says.

I nod slowly.

“It just keeps coming to me. I watched him blink. He did that thing guys do when they think you’re making a mistake but they’re too emotionally evolved to say it.”

“The ‘disappointed Jedi’ face?”

“Exactly.”

She sighs. Not a dramatic sigh. A real one. The kind that leaves soot behind.

“I don’t know if it was the right thing,” she mutters. “I keep thinking maybe I just—sabotaged something good.”

“No.” I sit up straighter. “You walked away from someone performing vulnerability instead of practicing it. There’s a difference.”

Rachel’s lip wobbles. She blinks up at the ceiling like maybe God will offer a second opinion.

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