Page 41 of All That Glitters

My heart thrashes in my chest, protesting my actions with each step I take toward my car. The more time I spend around Jameson, the more I fall back into my old patterns. I can’t let him in again. He’ll hurt me, just like he did before.

“Goldie!” Jameson calls out behind me, but I don’t look back. I jump in my car and start it. My hands tremble as I adjust the settings to blast the heat.

I’ll have to face him again, but by then I’ll have fortified my heart again. My vision blurs as I force myself to go through how I felt the day I found out about the internship. A painful but necessary task. Each recollection puts another brick in the wall.

Something smacks against my window, making me jump. Jameson is standing next to my car, soaked with rain and regret. I shake my head. It’s difficult to make out his expression through the rain, but I don’t need to see it. I need to leave.

“Go away, Jameson,” I shout through the glass, unsure if he can hear me.

He doesn’t move. Deep sadness clings to my bones the way that my wet clothes cling to my skin, but anger begins to heat my blood the longer he stands there. With a frustrated growl, I open my door, hitting him and forcing him to step back. I get out and cross my arms over my chest.

“What?” I demand. “What do you want from me now? You’ve got my internship, my cover page, and now a place beside my name in every article. I’m forced to spend even more time with you. Why can’t you just let me be?”

The words pour out. I’m not sure if they even make sense at this point, but I can’t think straight right now.

“Why did you run off?” he asks in return. “You were having a good time.”

I shake my head in denial.

“You were smiling and laughing,” Jameson accuses.

“Because for a second I forgot!” I shout over the rain. “You brought up the past, and I wanted to pretend I was back there and not this mess you put us in.”

I’m thankful for the rain, because it should mask the hot tears streaming down my face.

“Why can’t we go back to that?” he asks, his voice hoarse. “Why are you so set on hating me? I know I made a mistake—”

I cut him off. “You betrayed me. There are some things that can’t be undone.”

He rakes a hand through his drenched hair.

“I’m not trying to undo it. I just want to move past it.”

“Of course you don’t want to undo it, because you got the internship,” I say with a sardonic laugh. “You want to have it all. But you can’t.”

His expression turns severe.

“You know that isn’t what I meant. Stop twisting my words to suit your narrative.”

“I don’t have to twist anything,” I spit back. “You’re the one who stabbed me in the back.” I yank open my car door. “I’m done, Jameson. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better off we’ll be.”

I get in my car. Before I close the door, I hear a faint, “Please, Goldie.”

Every time I think I’ve glued the pieces of my heart back together, he takes a hammer to it. I’m forced to start over, cutting my hands on the jagged pieces and struggling to find the motivation to care enough to try at all.

I leave Jameson standing in the rain. The tears come faster the farther away I get. A thought bursts through my fragile defenses.

If this is for the best, why does it hurt so much?

Chapter twenty

Start Swimming

Jameson Sinclair

My jaw aches from clenching it the entire drive back to campus. I was tempted to go to the arena or gym instead, but my knee can’t take another workout. So now I have to take all of my pent-up frustration home and prop my leg up when I feel like hitting something.

It’s not that I’m angry with Marigold—though her hatred stings—but more so that I’m mad at myself for not trying harder, sooner. When I found out Marigold asked about ice cream floats, I thought we had begun a two steps forward, one step back sort of dance. It was easy to stomach the sarcastic jabs and emotional distance when I thought we were making progress. Maybe my hope was foolish. I’d said it was a thing of feathers, but maybe it’s made up of wax too. The kind that melts when you get too close to the sun. Now I’m barreling toward the sea, destined to drown just as Icarus did.