Chapter 13
TALON
Ishould’ve gone to bed an hour ago. Two, maybe. My body was wrecked from practice, chlorine still clinging to my skin even after a shower—the downside of being a swimmer—but shutting my eyes wasn’t happening.
Not when Livvi’s laugh was still echoing in my head.
Okay, so it wasn’t exactly her laugh. Just the way she typed—sarcasm layered with emojis, words pointed enough to keep me on my toes but soft underneath if you read them the right way.
I’d told her I couldn’t keep fish alive, and she’d given me crap for it.
Which was fair. The large empty tank glowing in the corner of my living room did look pathetic.
But she hadn’t dropped it, just kept tossing jokes back like we were sitting across from each other instead of hiding behind phone screens.
And dang if I didn’t like it.
I raked a hand through my hair, leaning back in the leather chair where I’d snapped that dumb picture for her. Upside-down book and all. I wasn’t sure why I’d done it—just this urge to make her laugh, to see if I could break through that calm, collected thing she always had going.
She had. I’d bet anything she had.
My phone buzzed again, but it was just some group chat with teammates. I ignored it. None of them were the person I wanted to be talking to.
I hated how much I was waiting on her reply.
It occurred to me then how long it had been since I’d cared this much about a reply. I wasn’t the guy who got hooked on someone’s attention. Usually I was fine being on my own, keeping things light and surface level. That was easier. Safer.
But with her? It didn’t feel like work. Didn’t feel like effort.
Although, I didn’t even know what this was, if it was anything.
She was … different. Smart. Funny in a way that didn’t feel forced.
She pushed me in all the right ways. And the craziest part?
I didn’t feel like I had to play a part with her.
I didn’t have to be the swimmer, didn’t have to be the guy who acted like nothing got to him.
With her, I could just be … Talon.
The thought unsettled me enough to stand, stretching my arms overhead until my shoulders popped.
Across the room, the aquarium glowed blue, empty and hollow.
It should’ve felt like a metaphor, something about loneliness or whatever, but instead all I could think about was how she’d teased me for not filling it.
Her voice was in my head again.
I shook it off and grabbed my water bottle from the counter, but the truth pressed in anyway.
I wanted to hear her voice.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, finally forcing myself to my room, where I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and killed the light.
Sleep didn’t come quickly, but when it did, she was still there—in half-dream thoughts, the kind I couldn’t quite shake.
The morning came too fast, sunlight dragging me out of bed earlier than I wanted. My muscles protested with every move, still sore from yesterday’s sets, but routine didn’t wait. By the time I’d forced myself through another round of laps and showered, I was running on autopilot.
Except I wasn’t, not really.
Because every time my phone buzzed, my pulse jumped.
Every time I caught my reflection in the mirror, I remembered the way I’d leaned back in that chair for her picture, wanting—no, needing—to know how she’d react.
I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted her attention until last night.
The locker room was humid with steam when I walked in, water still dripping down my neck. Ledger and Ridge were both sprawled across the benches, towels wrapped around their hips, easy grins plastered on their faces.
“Dude,” Ridge said, squinting at me, “you look like you got hit by a bus. What’d you do, pull an all-nighter?”
“Yeah,” Ledger added, smirking. “Our boy’s dragging. Didn’t think you knew how to look tired, Everhart.”
I pulled my bag out of the locker, rolling my eyes. “I’m fine.”
Ledger tipped his chin at me, eyes narrowing. “That wasn’t a denial. What’s up?” He paused for dramatic effect. “Ooh, does it have to do with Library Girl—Livvi?”
I didn’t answer, which was apparently all the answer they needed.
Ridge let out a low whistle. “I knew it. No guy zones out that hard unless there’s someone involved.”
“You’re imagining things,” I muttered, tugging a shirt over my head.
But Ledger leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grinning like a shark. “So how are things going? You’ve been on your phone more than usual. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”
I thought about brushing it off, laughing it away, but both Livvi and ReadToLiv flashed through my mind.
Not that they knew about ReadToLiv, but up until yesterday she had been the one I had been glued to my phone for.
Now I was adding Livvi to that, with the way her texts had stayed with me.
The way I’d felt like an idiot staring at my screen for her reply.
“I don’t know how things are going. She’s different,” I said finally, the words slipping out before I could catch them. Although different wasn’t a good enough word to describe it, to describe her. “She’s not the typical woman I’m used to.”
Ledger raised his brows. Ridge grinned like he’d won a prize.
“That’s because she’s too smart and beautiful to be giving the likes of you the time of day,” Ridge said, flicking his towel at me.
“Shut up,” I muttered, but they only laughed harder.
I didn’t stick around for more questions. Grabbing my bag, I headed out, phone already in my hand before I even cleared the doors. A message notification glowed across the screen.
BookPad.
My breath hitched.
I swiped it open, and there it was—her username. ReadToLiv. Finally.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted her to answer until I saw the words waiting for me.
ReadToLiv
Sorry, long night. Just saw this. And I think your question deserves more than a quick reply.
I sank onto the nearest bench outside, heart hammering harder than it had in the pool. My message from yesterday had been half a risk, half a test—asking her if she ever felt like she hid parts of herself from people. I hadn’t known if she’d answer at all.
And now … she had.
I typed quickly, before I could overthink it.
TheWriteGuy
I’m glad you responded. Take your time. I meant what I asked, though. I feel like I’ve been pretending for so long, I don’t know how not to. Maybe that just means I’m too scared to actually try for real.
The dots blinked on the screen. Stopped. Then blinked again.
I held my breath, waiting.
Finally, her reply stretched across the screen.
ReadToLiv
You’re not the only one. I hide too. But maybe in a different way than you. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I pretend I don’t care that I’m a loner, that I’m too scared to let someone see more than a first impression.
But over the last couple weeks I’ve realized that pretending isn’t living. It’s surviving. And I don’t want to just survive. I want to feel like I’m actually here. Even if that means messing up. Even if that means people see the parts I’m not proud of.
I stared at her words until the edges of the screen blurred. Pretending isn’t living. It’s surviving.
It was like she’d reached into my mind and said something I hadn’t been able to say out loud.
My fingers moved before my brain caught up.
TheWriteGuy
You just put into words everything I’ve never been able to.
The three dots blinked back almost instantly.
ReadToLiv
That’s why I like talking to you. You’ve helped me not feel stupid for admitting my feelings, and for being okay to let all of who I am come out.
I read her last message three times, warmth curling low in my belly, my thumb hovering uselessly above the keyboard.
No one had ever told me I helped them feel like they could just be themselves.
Usually, I was the guy people expected to perform—to play the role, keep up the confidence, never let anything crack through.
But not her.
My reply came slower this time, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I didn’t want to ruin it.
TheWriteGuy
You’ve done that for me too. Maybe more than you realize.
I hit send before I could second-guess it, and when the screen lit again, her dots blinking, my pulse picked up, thudding in my ears.
ReadToLiv
Maybe we both found the right person to stop pretending with.
My chest tightened, not in a painful way, but in a way that made it impossible to look away from her words. I read them again and again, each time the meaning sinking a little deeper.
For a long time, I just sat there on the bench, phone balanced in my palm, staring at it like maybe her message would disappear if I blinked.
My muscles were tired from practice, my hair still damp, but all I felt was this strange lightness pressing against my ribs.
Maybe this was what it felt like to breathe for real.
The thought scared me almost as much as it calmed me. Because if she was the right person to stop pretending with, then it meant there was no going back. No slipping into the easy version of myself I showed the world.
And the truth? I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to keep pretending.
I locked my phone and shoved it into the pocket of my hoodie, pushing to my feet.
The world around me was already moving forward—the low buzz of traffic, the sun climbing higher over the rooftops—but I felt like I’d just stepped into a different version of it.
One where maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to hide in the way I always had.
But the more I let myself feel this connection with ReadToLiv, the more tangled everything became.
I wanted to tell her she was right, that she’d become the one person who made me stop pretending, but then my mind drifted to Livvi.