Page 57 of Crashing Into You

“The whole list?” Joss’s eyes are wide.

“It’s not a very long list,” I say, shoving it at her as the customer exits the changing room.

“I’ll have to think about things to add to it, then,” Joss says, giggling again.

I ring up the customer’s purchase, trying to ignore Joss making kissy faces at Bryce’s poster in the background.

Once the customer is gone, Joss comes and gives me a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Claire-bear,” she says. “Truly. And also jealous to my bones. Please find out if he has a friend who likes pharmacists.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say, laughing. “But you cannot share that list with your co-workers!”

“I make no promises,” Joss says, as she sails out the door.

I’m still laughing a few moments later when my phone rings. It’s Sal. The shop is still empty, so I answer it.

“You lucky bitch!” she shrieks. “Joss showed me the list! I love this for you, so fucking much.”

Like I say, I love these girls.

After having an almost identical conversation with her to the one I had with Joss, I hang up. It’s almost lunch time, finally. I close up the shop and duck down the street to grab a snack, though I’m too excited to eat much. Just a few short hours and I’ll be in Bryce’s arms again.

But after what feels like about twenty hours, when it’s finally time to close the shop and I’m standing outside, there’s no sign of him. I frown, looking up and down the street, scanning the cars for his station wagon. I check my phone, but there are no messages.

Maybe he meant he’d meet me back at my place, though he won’t be able to get past the electric gates. I need to give him a key fob, I think, the idea fizzing in my chest. There’s something unbearably intimate at the thought of him being able to come to my home whenever he wants. I wouldn’t have it any other way. He has entwined his presence around me, filled me with it as surely as he filled me with his body, made it so I can’t imagine life without him. The thought buoys me during the drive home, but my mood changes when I get to the gates and he’s not there.

Maybe he picked up the extra fob from the dish in the kitchen, I think, though he doesn’t seem the type to do that without asking. But there’s no sign of his car when I pull up next to the house. Disquiet begins to curl in the base of my stomach. I check my phone again, but there’s still nothing apart from the message he sent me last night.

I don’t make promises I can’t keep.I remember him saying that to me, before we came back here and he made love to me in a hundred different ways. He promised me he’d meet me today. But he’s not here.

I hurry inside, just in case he’s decided, for some reason, to come up via the cliff path. But the house is deserted. It feels even emptier than usual. The disquiet turns to full blown panic. What if he crashed on his way back here? Is he lying by the side of the road somewhere, right now? Tears prickle my eyes, horror cold in my chest. I can’t bear the thought of losing him.

I try to call him, but there’s no answer. I try again. I don’t bother leaving a message, because there’s a lump in my throat and I can’t speak. I swipe through my phone to get to my messages, and my finger accidentally hits the Instagram icon. My feed pops up.

A photo of a petite pretty girl, standing outside the smiling mouth entrance of Luna Park in St Kilda, is at thetop of my feed. The girl, who looks a similar age to me, has pink hair and is holding pink candyfloss. Tattoos climb up one slender arm, disappearing beneath the sleeve of her tight black T-shirt. She’s gorgeous. Beneath the photo is a single sentence.

Love this girl.

It’s Bryce’s account. And he posted the image last night.

ChapterTwenty-Five

Claire

I’ve dealt with pain before– losing my parents is the worst thing that has ever happened to me and I’ll grieve their loss forever– so it’s not that I didn’t know my heart could hurt this much.

But this is a different kind of pain. The pain of betrayal. And of a broken heart.

I feel so used. So ashamed. What was I thinking, agreeing to being his fake girlfriend? It’s probably a move he puts on all the girls, telling them a sob story about his image to charm his way into their beds. I ignore the more rational part of my brain telling me that a guy who looks like Bryce doesn’t need to lie to get laid.

As if he could be bothered dating a girl like me. A virgin, for fuck’s sake. It was all probably some sort of twisted game to get him off, with the added bonus of being the first to fuck me. And now that I’ve given him that, so easily, he’s gone. On to the next girl. Couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye.

Again, the rational part of my brain rears its head, reminding me of how he looked out for me, how he defended me against Simon. His kindness. His tenderness. How he let me set the pace. He didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t ask him to do.

Yet I still feel used. And to go along with it, there’s the painful fact that I still love him. I hadn’t even really admitted my feelings to myself, unwilling to entertain the idea I could call for someone after spending a week with them. But Bryce captured me from the moment he first spoke to me. And I fell for every single word. More than that, I fell for the deep connection I felt with him, the rightness of having him next to me, in my life and in my bed.

Maybe I was just kidding myself. Maybe I just wanted something other than Simon. But I remember Bryce in the surf, telling me he couldn’t deny there was something between us. I felt the same way. I still do.

So why would he do this to me?