Page 58 of Don't Tell Me How It Ends
“I don’t need to hear it,” I remind her. “I lived it.”
“Then how don’t you get it?”
Whatever suspense she’s hoping to create with this dramatic pause is only building frustration.
“Fine,” she says, when it’s clear I’m not going to fill the silence. “I’ll spell it out for you then: Ro. Is. Into you.”
“That’s just Ro,” I say, rolling over, so she won’t see the questions written all over my face. “If you would’ve seen him yesterday, you’d get it. He left all of Manhattan feeling like they were the main character. He’s like that with everyone.”
This conversation and Zola’s insinuations need to end. I don’t know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing in a matter of weeks, but I do know that I’d like for Ro and me to not have blocked each other by then.That’swhat matters to me—not decoding a glance, or a vibe, or a text. And definitely not trying to convince Zola that Ro and I arefriends—nothing messier, nothing more.
“Kaia,” she says, reaching out for my phone once more. But this time, I’m quicker.
I leap up from the bed. Out of reach of Zo’s greedy hand and her judgments. Unfortunately, in my rush to put distance between us, my comforter tangles around my foot, so now I’m fighting gravity for my life, and doing it all in white cotton booty shorts.
That look on Zola’s face and the embarrassment of my near fall ignites emotions in me that I didn’t see coming. When I open my mouth, I’m shouting.
“Enough! Zola, I’m exhausted. Ro is my friend.”
The word sounds wrong, even to me, but I’ll be damned if Zola sees me hesitate.
She’s still in bed as I retreat to the bathroom, but she’s also not above yelling this early in the morning. “Well, at least stop telling him what a good friend he is! You’re just twisting the knife!”
Alone, finally, Zo’s words bounce off the bathroom tile along with the thoughts of Ro that she’s sparked—memories, strobing and dizzying in my mind. The tight dip of his dimple, the curve of his hand, his shirt, damp with sweat, clinging to his body under the studio lights.
No,I insist, even just to myself now, forcing Ro’s blinding light to go black. Because the truth is I do care about him. More than I’d meant to.
So, I’d rather keep him just out of reach, if it means I get to keep him at all.
18
Turns out the old adageis true: the best way to get over one guy really is to get under another. But after a week of faking interest in Zo’s mystery bachelor number two to distractherfrom her Ro fixation,I’mthe one left staring at another questionnaire, with Ro Jackson on the brain.
His popcorn should already be buttered, as his rapid-fire predate texts hit my phone, but my notifications have been disturbingly silent for days.
I hadn’t even wanted time away from him like this. I’d just meant to gently walk us back to the friend zone.
But walk gently, I did not:
Monday, 9:17am
Ro:E! What’s up?
Me:Life is life-ing as usual.
Ro:lmk when you’re ready to escape again
Me:I wish. Zo’s keeping me booked and busy with these dates.
Ro:Ah, I see.
Ro:Let her know I’m almost done with the site.
Me:I can’t wait to see!
Ro:Come through. I’ll give you a preview.
Me:She’d kill me if I saw it first.
