Page 62 of The Love Interest
“Night.”
He takes his shirt off, then rolls over and, after a couple minutes, falls asleep. I stare at the wall with my body turned away from him.
Caden?
Yeah?
I’ve seen this happen before. He thinks you’ll back away from Juliet out of kindness to him. And then, as soon as you do that, he’ll pounce. You need to cut him loose.
I wish I could be that guy. I wish I could be ruthless and sever all connections with him. I wish I could let him die and then continue with my life like nothing had changed.
But that’s not who I am.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
I’m standing in front of my mirror dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. The belt around my waist is unclasped, so the ends poke out above my crotch, and the top three buttons of the shirt are undone, showing my smooth chest.
I raise my hands to do up a button and realize they’re shaking. I fumble with the button a few times, but my fingers feel puffy and useless.
Awww, look at you, all nervous before your big date. It’s sweet. Juliet will like it.
And that’s what’s making me nervous.
Caden, don’t feel guilty now. I’m sure he wouldn’t if he were in your position. End it quickly and then let it be done.
I take in a deep breath, which slows the shaking in my hands, then I bring them up and button the last few buttons. I pop my collar and wrap a black tie around it. Once it’s done up properly, tied in a perfect full Windsor, I look at myself one last time. I look like a perfect Nice, with flawlessly styled blond hair, dreamy ocean-blue eyes, and a heroic jawline. Even though I’ve looked like this for a while now, I can’t help but be taken aback by how picture perfect I look. The disconnect between the textbook Nice boy staring back at me and the messed-up guy I really am is staggering.
I grab the jacket that’s resting on the end of my bed and put it on. The suit is tailored perfectly, making my shoulders look broad and my waist look trim. I fiddle with the knot of the tie, moving it up so it sits right against my Adam’s apple. It feels like I’m being choked.
A bouquet of tulips is on the kitchen counter. They’re her favorite. Make sure you don’t forget them. And Caden, I decided to let you take control of this date. I’ll be listening, obviously, and will be there if you have any questions, but you’ve shown you can handle it on your own. So I’m going to make some popcorn and just watch you do your thing. I’m actually looking forward to it.
Thanks, Kaylee.
Don’t sweat it, man. Go crush it out there.
I brush a few wispy golden strands of hair up and away from my forehead. So I’m on my own for this date. This means if I screw it up it’s my fault. Also, if it goes well and Juliet starts to fall for me, I’m the one responsible for what happens afterward.
Can I do something that could kill Dyl? I’m not sure I can anymore. Not without destroying all the parts of me I like. I miss the old me. He would’ve breezed through this date and celebrated as Dyl was marched away by a Stalker. Stupid feelings, making me all soft.
I push the tie up farther. I’ll go on the date. It’s what Dyl would do if he were in my situation, so he’ll understand. That said, I won’t aggressively go for her heart, I’ll just act the same way I always do around her. The date will still be a win for me, but not so drastic a win that she forgets about Dyl entirely. That’s the best I can do for him.
I leave the room. In the kitchen, M is staring at a vase filled with pink flowers.
“They’re lovely,” she says, looking at the flowers, not at me. She runs her fingers along one of the petals, gently brushing it. “So they’re obviously not for my benefit.”
I pause in the doorway to the kitchen. “No, they aren’t. But I can probably get you some if you want.”
She laughs a soft laugh, and pulls a single flower from the bunch and presses it to her nose.
“That’s a very nice offer,” she says as she makes her way back to the TV. “But that’s not what I want.”
She’s staring at the TV now, so I know she won’t respond. I scoop up the bouquet; a thin stream of water drops from the green stems. Once the stream turns to a trickle, I pull them out of the vase and walk toward the door.
“Good luck,” says M. “Don’t end up like me.”
I stop in the middle of the doorway and look at her. But I can’t think of anything to say to that, so I duck outside and walk to the truck. I swing the door open and gently lay the flowers on the passenger seat.
