Chapter 14
I glance at my mom over the kitchen counter as she stirs her tea, looking a little too observant for comfort.
“So, how are things with you and Colin?” she asks, a hint of curiosity creeping into her voice. “I barely see him around here lately. Busy, I suppose?”
I shrug, trying to sound casual, like it doesn’t matter. “Yeah, we’re fine, Mom. Actually, he was over yesterday. We just hung out, played some card games.” I try to keep my voice steady, as if I don’t have a care in the world. “Same as usual.”
My mom gives me a small, approving smile, and for a second, I think she might drop it. But then, her eyes narrow just slightly. “You’re glowing, you know that?”
I feel a blush creeping up, praying she doesn’t figure out exactly why I’m glowing. “Mom, c’mon. I’m just... happy, I guess.” I fumble with the mug in front of me, hoping the heat from the coffee hides my face.
She sips her tea, thankfully moving on. “So,” she says, changing the subject, “the new hours at work are actually great. And did I tell you? They’re opening a new wing at the hospital. State-of-the-art stuff.”
“That’s amazing, Mom! Really proud of you.” I give her a quick hug, the relief washing over me as she talks about work instead of my relationship. “Hope you get some sleep tonight,” I say as she heads out.
The second she’s gone, though, I’m left alone with... well, all of this. I drop into the couch, sighing. Today’s been a total mess. I wanted to talk to Colin, clear things up, but he got all nostalgic on me instead.
We spent the afternoon walking down memory lane— him going on about old trips, our first date, even how he’s kept that stupid concert ticket from our first night out. And here I am, practically zoning out as he talks, my head somewhere else. Somewhere... with someone else.
What the hell am I even doing? I shake my head, feeling a twist of guilt settle in. I think about Zane. It’s embarrassing how much I miss him right now, how much I want to see him, right now.
I grab my phone and send a quick text.
Remy: Can we meet tomorrow?
Nothing. I watch as the message turns “read,” but no reply. I bite my lip, feeling stupid for hoping he’d answer. Maybe he’s with his friends. Or maybe...maybe he got what he wanted and doesn’t care anymore.
Zane wouldn’t be the kind of person to throw a fit because I missed our date, would he?
Then I remember him flirting with that blonde girl just because I said I wanted to be friends with him, and that is when I feel bile rise in my throat.
I feel anxious and I am not sure why.
Still, it doesn’t stop this weird ache from sticking around. God, I hate this.
I wake up, tangled in sheets and already hot. My mouth’s dry, and every nerve is still on edge from that damn dream. Zane’s mask, the hard edge of his jaw under it, and his hands. Everywhere. I squeeze my eyes shut, my body still thrumming, aching from the memory, and it doesn’t help that my sheets still smell faintly of him.
I roll over, reaching for my phone. No new texts. Typical. Last night I had this faint hope that maybe he’d check in, even if it’s just a half-assed message. But no. Not a single text from him since… I don’t know, days. Zane’s pretty good at disappearing when he wants to. I should be used to it by now.
Instead, there’s a message from Colin.
Colin: Can I come over this morning?
My thumb hovers over the reply button, my brain still fuzzy with images from the dream. He’s probably here to talk about... how I’ve been dodging him. Not that he’s innocent either, but still. Whatever. We’ll just have coffee and talk about it. And then he’ll be off to whatever he’s doing, and I’ll be going to class.
Remy: Sure, 8 AM? I leave for class at 9.
He replies right away with a simple thumbs up.
I sigh and toss the phone on the bed, forcing myself up. Every step to the shower feels like I’m dragging lead weights, probably because the shower is just going to make it worse. I crank up the hot water and step in, letting the steam roll around me. But my mind’s immediately back to Zane. His stupid smirk, the low rasp of his voice, and God, those hands.
And this knot’s building in me— tight and impossible to ignore. I could take care of it, but the whole thing feels... wrong, like some messed-up betrayal. After all, Colin’s coming over in an hour, and here I am thinking about Zane like he’s got any right to be here. Like he owns my mornings or something. I groan, scrubbing my scalp as if that’ll knock some sense into me.
Out of the shower, I towel off and pull on something casual but cute—fitted jeans, a loose gray sweater that slips off one shoulder, and my black Converse. I braid my hair, swipe on some tinted lip balm, and take one last look in the mirror. Simple, effortless… safe. Just enough to look like I’m not still thinking about Zane.
In the living room, I grab a random book off the shelf and flop down on the couch. How to Fake It in Hollywood . I crack it open, settling in, but my brain’s on everything except the words. This is the same couch where I lost my virginity, where I found Zane cleaning up the mess we’d made, in just his boxers, hair mussed, and that stupid grin on his face. I’m smiling to myself when I hear a knock at the door.
Weird. Colin doesn’t knock.
I open the door, and Colin’s there, looking… rough. His shirt’s wrinkled, hair a mess, and he’s got this look on his face that’s somewhere between exhausted and defeated. Not exactly the Colin I’m used to seeing, polished and put together.
“Hey,” he mutters, stepping inside.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask, frowning a little as I close the door. He’s not looking at me, just wandering over to the kitchen table and sitting down, elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands.
I grab a couple of mugs and start the coffee. “So… what’s going on?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”
He shrugs, not answering right away. Just staring at his hands like they’ve got the answers to the universe written on them or something.
“Colin?” I sit across from him, pushing one of the mugs toward him. “Talk to me.”
He looks up, finally, his mouth set in a hard line. “We need to talk, Remy.”
“Okay.” I force myself to hold his gaze, trying to read him, but he’s giving nothing away. “Is this about the other night? Because, yeah, I know I’ve been—”
“No, it’s not about that.” He cuts me off, voice flat. “It’s, well, it’s everything. Us.”
Something cold settles in my stomach. “What about us?”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ve been thinking a lot, actually. About you, about us, and I just I don’t think this is working, Remy.”
I blink, my mouth going dry. “You… what?”
“I don’t think it’s working,” he repeats, almost like he’s convincing himself too. “We’ve been at this funk for, what, two years now? And I feel like I’m constantly chasing you, trying to make this work, trying to be enough.”
“Enough?” I echo, something like guilt twisting in my chest. “Colin, you are enough, it’s just—”
“No,” he interrupts again, holding up a hand. “No, Remy, I don’t think I am. I mean, come on, how often do we even see each other anymore? You’re always off doing your own thing, and when we do hang out, it’s like you’re not even here. You’re checked out.”
I swallow, looking down at the table, tracing the edge of my mug. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” He leans back, crossing his arms. “Be honest with me, Remy. When’s the last time you really wanted to be with me? And I don’t mean, like, just out of convenience. I mean actually wanted to be with me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the words get stuck. He’s not wrong. I’ve been drifting, not fully committed, and yeah… maybe I’ve been hiding from him, hiding from this.
He takes my silence as confirmation. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve been holding onto something that’s not there. I think… I think I’ve been holding onto the idea of you more than the reality.”
My throat tightens. “So, what are you saying? You’re breaking up with me?”
“Yeah,” he says, almost softly, like he’s realizing it himself. “Yeah, I am.”
I sit there, numb, staring at him, my mind trying to catch up. It’s not like I didn’t see this coming; I knew things were rough, but this? Hearing him say it out loud? It’s a punch to the gut.
“But we’ve been through so much, Colin,” I say, my voice coming out shaky. “I mean, we’ve had good times, right? It’s not like we haven’t–”
“Yeah, we have,” he agrees, his voice softer now. “But good times aren’t enough, Remy. You know that. I can’t keep pretending that things are fine when they’re not. And honestly?” He looks down, letting out a long breath. “I think you know it too. You just don’t want to admit it.”
I bite my lip, guilt gnawing at me. Because he’s right. I have known, I just didn’t want to face it. “So, this is it, then?”
He nods, not meeting my eyes. “I think it’s better for both of us if we let go now. Before we end up hating each other.”
Something in me snaps, and suddenly I’m angry. “So that’s it? You just made this decision without even talking to me about it? Without even giving us a chance to fix it?”
“Fix it?” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “Remy, I’ve been trying to fix it for months. I can’t keep doing this, pretending that we’re happy when we’re not. It’s not fair to me, and it’s definitely not fair to you.”
“Not fair to me?” I snap, my voice louder now. “So, you just decide for both of us? That’s pretty damn selfish, don’t you think?”
He sighs, rubbing his temples. “Maybe it is. But I think we’re past the point of trying to be fair, don’t you? This isn’t about being fair, Remy. This is about being honest. And honestly?” He looks at me, finally, his eyes tired. “I think you’ll be relieved.”
“Relieved?” I echo, heat rising to my cheeks. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means,” he says, his voice low.
I stare at him, my heart pounding, and it’s like all the excuses I’ve been telling myself come crashing down. He’s right. I’ve been lying to myself, pretending that I care, pretending that I’m fully invested in this when I’m not. And maybe part of me is relieved. But that realization just makes me feel like an even bigger asshole.
“So, what now?” I ask, my voice quiet. “We just… what, go our separate ways?”
He shrugs, looking defeated. “I guess so. I mean, I don’t know what else there is to say.”
There’s a long silence, both of us just sitting there, letting the weight of his words sink in. I want to be angry, I want to fight him on this, but deep down, I know he’s right. We’ve been holding onto something that hasn’t felt real in a long time. And now, standing on the edge of it, I feel this weird mixture of sadness and relief.
“Are you…” I hesitate, not sure if I even want to know the answer. “Are you going to be okay?”
He gives me a sad smile. “Yeah, I think so. Eventually.”
I nod, looking down at my hands, and for a second, I want to reach out, to hold onto him one last time. But I don’t. Because I know that would just make it harder.
We sit there in silence for a few more moments, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Finally, he stands up, grabbing his jacket.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “Guess this is goodbye, then.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, barely able to meet his eyes. “Bye.”
He hesitates, like he wants to say something else, but then he just nods, giving me a small, sad smile before walking to the door. I watch him go, the sound of the door closing echoing in the quiet apartment, and suddenly, it hits me. The finality of it, the empty space where he used to be.
And maybe he’s right. Maybe this is for the best. But as I stand there, staring at the closed door, all I feel is this hollow ache that I can’t quite shake.
I sink onto the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself cry over Colin and the mess I have made of things.
I glance around campus, hoping for a glimpse of Zane. I scan the hallways between classes, the cafeteria— anywhere he’d usually be smirking or lounging with that cocky swagger of his. Nothing. It’s like he’s disappeared.
After class, I walk to the student lounge to meet Maya, thinking I’ll have a distraction, but she barely sits down before she’s checking her watch.
“Sorry, babe,” she says, sliding her bag over her shoulder. “Caleb’s waiting. Dinner plans.”
“Caleb?” I try to sound casual, but she’s already standing. “Can we talk for like ten minutes?”
She gives me an apologetic look. “Rain check?”
I watch her leave, feeling this hollow, sinking sensation. I could call Zane, but I know how that’ll end. And anyway, I don’t want to seem desperate… do I?
I do it anyway. It rings once, and then straight to voicemail. “Zane,” I whisper, clutching the phone. “Hey, call me back.”
But he doesn’t. The next three days are like this. No texts, no calls, no sign of him anywhere. I replay everything in my head, trying to remember why I ever thought this was a good idea. I threw away my relationship with Colin for what? To be ignored by a guy who can barely show up? Pathetic.
I bury myself in books, anything to distract me, but even then, my mind drifts. After class one night, I’m at the library, trying to lose myself in something— anything. That’s when I hear a few girls nearby, giggling as they talk about the Reaper party happening tonight.
“Should be insane,” one of them whispers.
“Oh yeah, the whole team’s gonna be there. And I heard it’s going to be wilder than ever.”
My pulse spikes, and I strain to hear more, but they’re already gone, chatting as they leave the library. I grab my things and head home, practically racing. If he’s going to be there, I have to go. Finally, an opportunity to talk to him, to see him.
I yank open my closet, pulling out the only dress that screams ‘don’t mess with me’— a tight black slip that barely covers what it should. I pair it with thigh-high boots and an oversized leather jacket. My hands shake as I line my eyes with thick black eyeliner and gloss my lips. I check my reflection. Perfectly reckless. It’s exactly how I want him to see me tonight.
I dial Maya, just to see if she’ll go with me, but it goes straight to voicemail. Fine. I grab my bag and step out, slamming the door behind me.
The Reaper mansion’s only a few blocks from campus, and I take every step like it’s going to get me closer to him. The house is already lit up, the bass of the music thumping, laughter and voices spilling out the front door. My heart races as I walk up the steps and step inside, scanning the room.
For once, I’m here for only one reason.
And I can finally admit it to myself.