Chapter Fourteen
Robby
“Go harder next time.”
“You’re softening.”
“You keep your promises.”
How much more could she want? She was in rare form last night.
I wasn’t expecting that level of sass from her after I comforted her when she needed it, but she was testing pressure points I didn’t know I had because she wanted Rook’s roughness.
But I’m cracking. My true self is seeping into the fantasy, and I’m afraid the reins are slipping right through my fingers faster than I can manage. I rake my hand through my coarse hair.
She’s been in the power position the whole time and knows it.
I run my fingertips along the side of my head, over the faded sides.
Rook was never supposed to be physical. Just an outlet for me to show off the muscles I earned in the gym, and a way to connect to society without having to be me.
A girl like Appa was never supposed to find Rook or make her knowledge of him public if she did.
I wouldn’t cross that line and force fate with her, but then she liked Rook’s video.
I had to react, but she’s as unattainable as ever.
Close enough for me to touch, but still a universe away.
We’ve made no progress and never will.
It’s logic and self-inflicted masochism. I might’ve felt her and damn, was she good, but it’s Rook and Appa. Not Robby and Appa, and that’s what’s keeping me awake during sleepless nights and driving me to extremes.
I was prepared to watch Appa from a distance until I finally found someone to replace her presence in my life.
She’ll never be mine and is loved by so many.
She never needed me, but her life is one big fucking front.
That I can’t stop buying. Like every other influencer with follower counts in the seven digits.
I have no idea who the real Appa is now, and logically, I have to come to terms with the fact that the Appa I met six years ago isn’t the same girl now.
She’s sunny and unproblematic online but deep down, just as insane as I am.
Like my own little Harley Quinn. Chaos under a polished surface.
I just want that cute, naive girl back—did Rook corrupt her?
I should have suffocated her when I met her with my intensity when I had the chance. She’d be entirely mine. And I know we’d be happy.
But that’s not our story.
I walk into my filming room, and I flip the warm-toned overhead light on.
The blades of the ceiling fan start spinning, filling the quiet room with white noise.
It’s so empty in here aside from the tripods and lights, an old desk, and the tan couch that sits in the background of most of my videos.
I walk over to the desk from my first apartment and lay my palms flat on its cool, paint-chipped surface and lean.
“You, all of you.”
There’s a funny saying: If you love someone, let them go. It always sounded like bullshit to me, but she should find someone better suited for her…what am I thinking? I, Robby, am better suited for her. I thought she couldn’t survive me, but now, I’m left questioning whether I could survive her.
After what I’ve done, I can’t just drop the Rook persona and insert myself into her life.
Admit that I’ve known who she was these years, watching her every digital move.
Tell her how every time I saw the ring around her profile picture illuminated, my chest felt warm and fuzzy because there was something new to see.
For all she knows, she simply caught Rook’s attention.
No, there’s no easy way to get to her without blowing it and making her feel like I’ve been stalking her for years.
I slam the drawer of the desk open, pens rattling inside from the force.
The damn Polaroid is sitting on top of old papers and receipts.
The Polaroid I took of my junk for a Rook video.
I don’t remember seeing any comments from Appa on that video, but I’m sure she saw it and will know what the Polaroid is from.
The picture isn’t the best quality—grainy and dark, showing mostly the inside of my sweatpants, but part of me is visible.
I did only one take for that video, so it’s the only picture I have from whatever that stunt was.
But anything to keep that engagement rate up, right?
I shake my head. I’m so fucking sick of follower counts and engagement rates. It’s not fun anymore when felonies and dubious consent get involved. My throat burns as I swallow my feelings down and reach for a black permanent marker. I flip the picture over to write on the back side.
I’ll love you forever. Goodbye, Appleygirl.
I hold up the Polaroid as the ink dries.
The picture suddenly feels a lot heavier, or it’s every rational brain cell telling me I’m deranged for this.
I waited six years to get a few nights of fun, only to throw it all away.
But we both need to walk away. I know I wanted her in deep, but last night cracked something open.
She’s not eighteen anymore.
I’ll leave the Polaroid after the next time for her to find when she’s all alone.
And deactivate the Rook account right after to kill the monster I created.
It’s time to close this chapter, so we can heal and find some normalcy again.
I grip the oversized cross resting on my chest and slide it along the chunky chain, making the cool metal tickle my collarbones.
She asked for my worst, but maybe my worst is walking away.
Time to let you go so we can both be free.