Chapter 9
Marissa
Eight Years Ago
I sat in our secret spot, a hidden clearing deep within the woods that bordered our town. Lost in the pages of my favorite novel, I didn't hear Bryce approach until he was just a few feet away.
When I looked up, I was shocked by the anger and pain etched on his face. His hands were clenched into fists, and his jaw was tight with barely contained rage. I had never seen him like this before.
"Bryce, what's wrong?" I asked, setting my book aside and standing to meet him.
He paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with fury. "My father," he spat, his voice trembling with emotion. "He said if I don't give up on my dreams and do what he wants, he'll kick me out. He called my passion for acting a 'foolish waste of time' and said I'll never amount to anything."
My heart broke for him. I knew how much his father's approval meant to him, even though their relationship had always been strained. I reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm.
"Bryce, you know that's not true. You have so much talent, so much potential. Don't let anyone, not even your father, make you feel unworthy."
He looked at me then, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. At that moment, I realized I couldn't hold back my feelings any longer. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"Bryce, I ... I care about you. More than just as a friend. You're not unworthy, you're incredible, and I ... I love you."
The silence that followed was deafening. Bryce stared at me, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. I could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to process my confession. But instead of the joy or relief I had hoped for, I saw something else flicker in his eyes: panic.
Without a word, he turned and fled, leaving me standing alone in our secret clearing.
My heart shattered into a million pieces. I didn't understand what had happened or why he had reacted that way. All I knew was that I had poured out my heart to him, and he had rejected me.
He never came back.
Present Day
I shake my head, wanting to forget the memory before entering the art gallery.
As I enter the art gallery, the vibrant energy of Maeve's exhibition greets me. Her stunning creations adorn the walls, each piece offering a window into her soul.
Maeve is super talented, and I'm really proud that she has come this far. Cindy and I maneuver our way through the crowd, our eyes scanning the room for her. We spot her in the corner, a radiant smile lighting up her face as she chats animatedly with a group of admirers.
"Wow, Maeve really outdid herself with this one," Cindy remarks, her eyes wide with appreciation.
I nod in agreement, my heart swelling with pride for my talented friend. "She's always had a way with colors and shapes. It's amazing to see her work on display like this."
As we approach Maeve, she spots us and waves enthusiastically.
"Cindy, Marissa, you made it!" Maeve exclaims, enveloping us in bone-crushing hugs. "I'm so glad you could come."
Cindy grins, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Your work is always amazing."
I nod in agreement, gaping at the intricate details of her creations. "Seriously, you've outdone yourself this time. You deserve a treat after all your hard work."
Maeve laughs, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Oh, stop it, you two. It's just a small exhibition."
Cindy rolls her eyes playfully, "Yeah, small exhibition, big talent. You're a star, Maeve."
As we check out several pieces of the artwork, Cindy nudges me with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Marissa, check out that guy over there. He's been eyeing you all night."
I follow her gaze to a tall, attractive man standing across the room, his eyes locked on me with an intensity that I should find flattering, but I don't. And I think I know why that is. It's got something to do with a certain actor with a penchant for breaking hearts.
"Um, yeah, I ... I'm not interested."
Cindy raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Oh, come on, Marissa. He's hot, and he clearly has good taste. You should go talk to him."
I shake my head adamantly. "No way. I'm not here to pick up guys. I'm here to support Maeve."
Maeve chuckles, coming to my defense. "That's right, Marissa. You're a strong, independent woman who doesn't need a man to define her."
Cindy rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. We all know Marissa's just being shy. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to have a little fun."
I shoot her a playful glare. "Easy for you to say, Miss Flirtatious. Some of us prefer to keep a low profile."
But that's not it at all. The truth is that I've been hung up on her brother for as long as I can remember. It's difficult to let anyone else in. I mean, I've dated before, but all my relationships always ended due to flimsy reasons.
Cindy smirks, "Low profile? Please, Marissa. You're practically glowing with all the attention from Mr. Mysterious over there."
I blush, feeling a surge of self-consciousness at the thought of being the center of someone's attention. Yes, I'm flustered, but it's because I'm not used to such attention.
"Can we please change the subject? I'd rather focus on Maeve and her incredible artwork."
Maeve nods in agreement, eager to shift the conversation back to her passion project. "Absolutely. Let's talk about the inspiration behind my latest piece."
Maeve launches into an animated discussion about her creative process, and I don't fail to notice the look of fulfillment she has on her face. Despite the teasing and playful jabs, if there's one thing I love about my friends, it's our ability to support and be there for one another.
I'm so blessed to have such incredible women by my side, each of us forging our own path in a world filled with endless possibilities.
Soon, Maeve leaves us to engage with a potential client, and Cindy sidles up to me.
"So, what was up with you showing up at dinner last night with Bryce?"
A knot forms in my stomach at the mention of Bryce's name, my fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of my blue flowery shirt. "Oh, uh, it was nothing, really. Bryce just offered me a ride home, and I figured I'd take him up on the offer."
Cindy raises an eyebrow skeptically, her gaze piercing as she studies my reaction. "Just a ride home? Are you sure there's nothing more going on between you two?"
I shake my head adamantly, my cheeks flushing and betraying me. "No, of course not. We're just friends, Cindy. Nothing more."
Cindy's eyes narrow as she studies my reaction. "Since when did you two become friends? I didn't even know you were close."
I shuffle my feet awkwardly, staring down at the scuffed toes of my sneakers.
"Oh, you know," I mumble, my voice barely audible over the clinking of silverware and the hum of conversation around us. "We've just been talking more lately, with the project and all."
I shift in my seat, the weight of her stare making my skin prickle with discomfort. I know I should tell her the truth, but not until I figure out how to tell her about my crush on her brother without completely weirding her out.
"It's not a big deal," I say, forcing a nonchalant shrug. "We just realized we have more in common than we thought."
Cindy sits back, her expression unreadable. "Hmm, if you say so. But you know how Bryce can be. He's got a bit of a reputation."
I bristle at her words, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Bryce is a good guy. He's just misunderstood."
Cindy lets out a sigh, her tone tinged with concern. "You need to be careful. He's not exactly known for his stellar track record with women. You know about Bryce's rebellious past, right? He was always getting into trouble, skipping classes, and shutting everyone out. I remember Mom and Dad constantly arguing about his behavior and how it would affect his future."
I appreciate the fact that she's looking out for me, but I can take care of myself. Besides, Bryce isn't a vicious animal. "I appreciate your concern, but Bryce isn't like that. He's just ... complicated."
I remember back to that secret spot in the hidden garden, where Bryce's earnest eyes locked on mine as he shared his deepest dreams and fears. In that moment, I saw a side of him that no one else did—a vulnerability and depth that belied his rebellious exterior.
Cindy gives me a pointed look, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Complicated, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"
I roll my eyes, feeling a twinge of frustration at her insinuation. "Yes, Cindy, complicated. Can we please drop it?"
Cindy sighs, relenting at my exasperated tone. "Fine, fine. But just promise me you'll be careful around him, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."
I nod solemnly, grateful for her concern despite my insistence that everything is fine. "I promise I'll be careful. Besides, he's got a good heart, despite what everyone else thinks."
Cindy snorts, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "Yeah, right. And I'm the Queen of England," she mutters under her breath.
"I'm serious, Cindy," I deadpan, and she raises her hands in surrender.
There's more to my feelings for him than I'm willing to admit, even to myself. But I would rather die than let it out again.
Not after that stinging rejection that left my heart in shreds.