The Reality of Wanting My Bully (Love Without Labels #2)

Prologue

Jace

Present Day

I’m about to meet my future spouse.

At least, I hope I am.

Somehow, KD agreed to move in with me despite the fact that we’ve never met in person, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been this excited about anything before.

I have no idea what they look or sound like, how old they are, or even their gender, but none of that matters to me. I know who they are as a person.

We’ve been dating on Love Without Labels for the last week, which might not seem like a lot of time, but somehow the connection I feel with K seems more meaningful than any other connection I’ve had in the past.

I’ll be the first to admit I was skeptical about the whole process when I signed up for a “label-free dating show,” but I needed a change.

Something—anything really—to distract me from the pattern of failed relationships I’ve fallen into.

I know it’s my own damn fault that no one can ever live up to the version of him I’ve built up in my head over the years, but I can’t help making the comparisons.

For as long as I can remember, Kieran Delaney has been the ideal person to me, and I don’t know how to quit my obsession; I don’t know how to stop measuring everyone I date against him.

I watch every video, like every post, know about every public appearance, product launch, and endorsement deal.

Sometimes it feels like I still know him—even if I use a fan account he wouldn’t recognize—while he probably wishes we’d never met in the first place.

It’s been over a decade since I’ve seen him in person, and Kieran has probably forgotten all about me. I need to try to forget about him, too.

When my last girlfriend dumped me, claiming “I cared more about some stranger on the internet than her,” I knew I needed a dramatic change.

I tried to delete all of my social media apps and quit cold turkey, but that only lasted a few hours.

I’ve never had the best self-control, and after I’d updated myself on everything “Sparkles” that I’d missed, I was doomscrolling when I saw the ad for Love Without Labels.

Something, maybe fate, maybe because I was overtired and should have been sleeping hours before, made me want to know more.

I followed the link to the application and saw contestants would be isolated during the process, cut off from the rest of the world—and more importantly, their phones—to focus on dating other participants on the show.

It seemed perfect. They would literally force me to give up social media, and I could potentially meet someone without being distracted by whatever Kieran was doing that day.

Even if it seemed unlikely that I would actually get chosen for the show at all—let alone match with anyone I could spend the rest of my life with—I knew I had to try.

Maybe it isn’t fair for me to have signed up for the show when a part of my heart will always belong to him. It’s not like anything could ever happen between us anyway, especially given how I treated him and how things ended between us.

Now here I am, pulling my suitcase behind me as I follow one of the show’s producers, Jay, as he escorts me to the new apartment I’ll be sharing with KD.

This whole process has been kind of surreal, and there’s a part of me that hasn’t quite accepted that I’m actually a contestant on a reality show at all.

But I’m embracing this once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I’m so excited to meet the one person here who’s captured my interest.

I follow Jay into the elevator, leaving the anonymous part of the show behind, ready to jump into this next chapter.

I’m taking deep, measured breaths, trying to calm my racing heart as I wonder—for probably the last time—who it is I’ve been bonding with over the countless messages and hours talking through the show’s distorted voice technology.

What if it’s him? the annoying voice in my head asks for the millionth time.

I’m not proud of the fact that all I could think about during my first date with KD was that they share the same initials as Kieran. But I’m not a complete idiot, I know there are probably tens of thousands of people in New York whose first and last names also start with K and D.

This KD is by far the coolest person I’ve talked to in years.

We clicked right away, and despite the short amount of time we’ve been dating, I do feel like we have a real shot at a future together.

Talking with K has been so easy; they’re really fucking funny, kind, and there hasn’t been a single moment of awkward silence or tension between us like I experienced in some of the other dates early on.

I’m so relieved and excited they also like me enough to have agreed to move in with me and enter the next phase of the show together.

If the next week of sharing an apartment goes well, we might even be engaged soon.

I feel like I might actually be ready to build a life with someone without constantly wondering about what might’ve been if things didn’t end the way they did back then. K could be it for me.

Jay motions for me to get off the elevator first. “Apartment 13 on your left. KD should already be in there.”

Kind of an ominous number to include on a dating show, but thirteen was also my jersey number in high school, so what might seem like an unlucky sign to most feels like confirmation that I’m exactly where I should be.

I run my fingers through my unruly hair like that might somehow tame the mess of curls.

I push open the door, eager to meet the person who I could spend the rest of my life with… and my heart shatters.

It’s like I can feel it being ripped apart in my chest, splitting right down the middle as I’m torn in two. Half of me is elated, overwhelmed by the person standing in front of me, because I was right. We are perfect for each other, and no one else could ever compare.

But the other half of me, the more logical, rational part, is shattering in a way I know I’ll never recover from. It doesn’t matter what happens after this; no one will ever be able to help me fit all the broken pieces of who I was before this moment back together.

Because it wasn’t just a silly crush that turned into an embarrassing obsession—there really might have been a chance for something real between us. This moment proves it.

But I fucked that possibility up years ago.