Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND
“ Y es,” I say, my voice small.
It’s the truth. No matter how much I wish it wasn’t. No matter what feelings I don’t have for James, he’s part of my messy life.
“Then you are seeing him,” he says, a hard edge coats the accusation.
“No, I’m not.”
“But he says you are.”
“He’s lying. I’m not seeing him.”
“But were you?”
“I…” I release a hard breath. “Sort of. But not really. We never dated, but we had a plan to go on a date. A plan I ended because I don’t want to be with him. I want to be with you. I choose you.” I step closer, taking his hands.
“Choose me?” he scoffs, yanking his hands away. “So, it is what he said it was. That this is just a game with you as the bachelorette and us as the besotted suitors.”
“It wasn’t a game!” My voice cracks. “At least, I never meant for it to be.”
“You didn’t mean to? But you did. Were we just options so you weren’t alone?” he demands.
“No!” I grab his hands again, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “I would never do that to you. To them. It wasn’t like that.”
“Then how was it?” His stare is cold, but he hasn’t pulled his hands from mine, which emboldens me to continue.
“I’m messy. It’s messy. They appeared. Then Jackson thought of this Just Write competition, and I went with it.
I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t a game, but I see how this looks…
how this must feel for you. You’re right to be angry.
I am sorry. I, of all people, know better,” I say, realization thickens my throat.
“Just Write? Jackson?” His face pinches.
“Oh god, don’t blame him. Don’t fire him. This is all my fault. I made the wish. I should have stopped this. Jackson was just trying to help.”
“Wish?”
“Your grandpa gave me a lucky penny—although I question its luckiness—and I made an ill-advised wish and tossed it into the fountain at SPN. Next thing I knew, Lars, Owen, and James appeared, and they were all, ‘We’re here for you, Georgia.’ And I’m like, ‘ What? ” —Releasing our joined hands, I gesture wildly—“The whole thing is farcical and unrealistic, but it’s real.
It’s my messy life. The messy life I wanted to keep you from…
But here it is, all over you because, according to Lars, I’m all over you. ”
“Lars? What?” The furrow deepens on his brow.
“His werewolf super smell power detects my scent all over you because of our mating-adjacent activities and my inability to stay away from you like I should. I should leave you alone, but I don’t want to, not in the least. I don’t want to be friends with you.
I want more. To let myself go after what I want, rather than letting the fear that it may not work out hold me back. ”
I vomit out all the sordid details. Everything that has happened in the last week spills from my lips.
How our not-so-cute first date led me to make a wish.
The appearance of my book boyfriends and their belief that one of them may be my happy ending.
My willingness to choose one of them. My failed attempt to stay away from him.
My ultimate decision to choose my own wants.
How much I want him, despite knowing that I’m no good for him.
I even blather on about my choice not to attend the wedding.
Davis just stands there, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline, and his mouth slack.
When I finish, I rub my temples. “God, this all sounds unreal.”
“You think Lars, Owen, and James are book characters?” His question is hesitant, as if approaching a wild animal.
Perhaps, I am. Between my rapid speech and wild gestures, I’m the opposite of cool, calm, and collected.
“It’s all unbelievable. At times, even I have trouble believing it, but they are real,” I implore.
I’m not entirely sure what I’m asking for. For him to believe me? For him to forgive me? For him to still want me despite everything I’ve done? All of the above .
Even I know that’s too much to hope for. This all may be over with Davis. That knowledge snarls inside me. Despite the ache, I don’t regret telling him. I may regret my actions, but not my honesty with him.
“I should have told you sooner. You deserved to know this before I started something with you,” I murmur.
“But we didn’t start anything. Not really.” He slumps with a long breath. “We’re just friends. You didn’t owe me anything, and I shouldn’t be angry. Like you said, I wasn’t technically part of your little dating competition.”
“I’m still sorry. For my actions. For hurting you.”
His brows link, seeming to mull over something. “You pumped the brakes. Even if you didn’t tell me all this, you were honest that your life is messy and that you couldn’t do anything.”
I blink. “You believe me?”
He motions between us. “None of this makes sense. Not how this happened. Not that this happened at all. Above all, the fact that I believe you makes no sense. I don’t believe that you believe , but that I believe this is all real.
It may be early, but I know you. You may love happy endings, but you’re not prone to fantastical thinking.
Somehow, you wished characters in your books into real life…
Characters I’ve had ice cream with and played pickleball with.
God…” He wrinkles his nose. “This really is happening.”
I let out a strangled laugh. “It’s so ridiculous, and I should have told you sooner. I just worried that you’d think I was a few chapters short of a novel or making up the worst excuse for not wanting to be with you.” I take his hand. “Because I do want to be with you… If you’ll have me.”
He releases it. “I can’t. Like you said, your life is messy. I can’t do messy, not again. I’ve already had someone tug me along with promises of wanting me, only to have them prioritize other things over me.”
I bristle. “I wouldn’t?—”
“But you already did,” he cuts in, his tone somber but hard.
“You may choose me now, but who says you will make that same choice tomorrow? Who says that tomorrow you won’t wake up and decide that whatever responsibility you have to someone else is more important than me?
I won’t let my heart be played like that.
It took too long to put myself back together. ”
Every protest dies in my throat. He’s right. His heart deserves better.
“I understand,” I whisper.
“I am sorry, Georgia,” he says, curling his fingers around the strap of his bag. “It may be best if we don’t see each other anymore… even as friends.”
Even though it feels like my heart is shattering, I nod. If I try to speak, I know tears will come.
Turning, Davis moves down the long corridor. The quiet squeak of his sneakers against the tile mocks the painful throb in my chest.
“It is for the best, Georgia.” James’s smooth English accent causes me to whirl. He stands there, his smug grin casting a sardonic expression on his face.
“Why did you do that?” I glare.
“It needed to be done.”
“Why?” Teeth gritted, I stalk closer. “Because you hate to lose, so you ensured you could fix the game. That you could win at any cost, no matter whose heart gets hurt. Even though this isn’t a game. It’s real life. My real life. My heart.”
“I play to win, and if Davis truly cared for you, he would too. Instead, he sulks away like a petulant child. If he were worthy, he would fight.”
“He is,” I hiss. He is, but I’m not.
“And yet he walks away.”
I say nothing.
“If he were worthy, he would be here. He would do every underhanded thing to get what he wants. That’s what a man does when he loves someone.”
“And I assume you’re that man.” Fire rages in my veins.
“You have no idea what lengths I would go to”—he prowls closer, causing me to move backward—“in order to get back to the woman I love.”
“Back?” I breathe as my back hits the wall.
“Yes, back,” he snarls. “I would walk through fire, face any foe, and even pretend to care for you , if it got me back to Cecily.”
“But you?—”
“Pretended.” Smirking, he lets out a dark laugh. “Silly Georgia, so desperate to be loved. You are but a means to an end. I would do anything to break this curse. In no world—either mine or this one—do you compare with her .”
The venom in his confession stirs memories of Will, his caramel smooth voice dripping with pity the last time I spoke to him after Lena’s confession.
No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get Lena out of my system.
She’s not just in my bloodstream, but who causes my heart to pump.
The memory of whimpering, “What was I?” and his indifferent, “Not her” hits like a knife plunged into my heart alongside James’s admission.
James towers over me, his hand lifted to my cheek. His soft strokes contrast with his icy stare. It’s coolness causing me to shrink inward.
“You are pretty enough, pet, but you don’t compare to any of the women we were forced to leave behind because of your wish. Not Selena. Not Ivy. And certainly not Cecily.”
“You read the books.” My voice is shaky.
“In hopes they would help me find a way to break this curse. They were rather educational.” He mindlessly twirls a lock of my hair around his finger.
“Owen believes there are pieces of you in each heroine, and he is not wrong. Though I believe each woman is more aspirational than reflective of you. You pale in comparison to each.”
You’re not her. Will’s words and James’s insult play together like playground bullies taunting me. That somehow all of this is my fault, because I’m not who they want.
But this isn’t about what they want, it’s about what I want.
I swat his hand away. “If that’s true, then why go for me. Even if you’re pretending, none of this makes sense. How would making me fall for you—which I didn’t because you disgust me—how does this help you? How does what you did to Davis help you?”