Page 106 of Deep In Love
I lean down and kiss him on the temple as I wrap my arms around his shoulders like I’m a backpack. He grabs my hands and squeezes.
“Thank you, bruja,” he whispers, swiping his thumb against the top of my hand. “I’m feeling a bit better.”
“Yeah?” The elation in my voice is unmistakable.
He feels better because ofme.
Fireworks erupt in my chest, and I could live off the feeling for the rest of my life—knowing that instead of being the burden, I was able to help shoulder someone else’s.
Chapter 30
Charlie
The hushed whispers in the mess area raise the hair on the back of my neck. The usually loud room is eerily quiet, and when I turn the corner and step into the space, I could hear a pin drop.
What the hell?
My skin crawls as crew members offer me varying looks—sympathy, concern,pity.
Something is very, very wrong.
At this point, I’m sprinting to Mateo. I hear the tail end of his conversation with Jett when I reach him.
“…before Charlie sees.”
The pit in my stomach grows, a deep, endless abyss of anxiety capable of drowning me.
“Before I seewhat?” I ask.
The guys turn, both wearing looks of shock and discomfort. Mateo moves first, taking a step toward me. Jett slips his phone in his pocket, but his face is frantic.
“It’s nothing,” Mateo rushes out.
I know every one of his smiles—cataloged every one he’s ever offered me into my mental storage. This isn’t one I’ve seen before; it’s forced and uncomfortable.
“Tell me,” I demand, anxiety clawing its way to the surface as they exchange a glance.
“Charlie.” Mateo says my name with an air of caution, like speaking with a cornered animal. “It’s not worth it. Trust me.”
He exhales deeply when I shake my head. I want to know.
Silently, Mateo hands me his phone; the video I recorded for Jett plays in the background, but that’s not what he was trying to hide from me.
There are thousands of comments, each one worse than the previous.
The other chick was hotter.
Scargirl is an appropriate nickname.
Some people shouldn’t show their faces online.
A handful are kind, and I try to cling to them, but for every positive one, there are three that comment on my appearance. Each one slices like a knife, flaying me open.
Mateo’s hand covers the screen. “They’re wrong,” he says, full of conviction. “None of those comments are true.”
Good thing she’s smart. She’ll get nowhere with looks.
Keep her in a lab and away from a camera.
