Bad Romeo Christmas: A Starcrossed Anthology (Starcrossed #4)(55)

"You hungry?" I ask.

"No."

"Thirsty."

"I'm fine, Liss."

"I don't think you are."

He stays silent and hugs me. I hug him back. I never fully understood his paranoia about people following him before, but I sure as hell get it now. When the pictures came out of us kissing in New York, I felt stupid, because we’d let our guards down in a public place. But this? You can't get more secluded than an uninhabited island off the coast of a foreign country. This is a place where we should be able to feel safe and open. Instead, I feel violated. Vulnerable. More shaken than I'm letting on.

Scott took a beautiful, private moment between us and turned it into filthy tabloid fodder. There's no way someone could ever get used to that type of abuse, and poor Liam has been dealing with it for years. How is it legal that lowlifes like Scott can get away with this behavior? Worse still, how are they allowed to profit from other people's suffering?

Liam gives me a squeeze then pushes me back so he can stand. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

After he walks into the bathroom and closes the door, I sink onto the edge of the bed and drop my head into my hands.

How could I have been so stupid? If I hadn't been such an insecure idiot, I wouldn't have felt the need to brag about Liam to those girls in La Perla, and Scott wouldn't have found out we were together. I'm the one who practically led him to us.

Guilt squirms in my stomach. As angry as I am with Scott, I'm furious with myself. Liam has enough people intent on manipulating and exploiting him. He doesn't need me helping them.

I flop back onto the bed and close my eyes. Christ, what a mess.

Listening to the ocean should be soothing, but even it sounds angry with me. When Liam hasn't emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, I figure he is, too.

I suck up my courage and knock on the door. There's the sound of running water. "Hey. Everything alright?"

"Yeah. You can come in."

When I open the door, I find him shirtless in front of the sink. Chunks of long hair lie strewn all over the floor, and his head looks like it's been run over by a lawn mower. What's more, his face is practically bald. He tilts his head up and scrapes the razor over the few remaining whiskers on his neck.

"I figured looking like my old self might be a handy disguise now that those pictures are out." He sighs. "I decided to torture myself and checked the damage from my phone. Did you know there are already memes of us? And some * has opened a twitter account called The Stallion, where he pretends my penis is tweeting. What the hell is wrong with people?" He finishes shaving before running his hand over his face and neck. When he's satisfied he didn't miss a patch, he washes his face and pats it dry with a towel.

"Liam?"

"Hmmm?"

"You cut your own hair?"

He rubs his hand over the uneven mess on his head. "Had to. I couldn't stand it a second longer. Did I do a good job?"

"Not at all."

He hands me the scissors. "Then by all means, Vidal Sassoon, fix it."

When he sits on the closed toilet seat, I stand between his legs and assess the damage. Can I fix it? I at least have to try. I've never given a haircut before, but I've watched enough of them to fake it pretty well. I even up the sides and back before tackling the top. By the time I'm done, it's not perfect, but I've definitely made it better.

Pity I can't say the same about our situation.

Liam just keeps staring at the floor, hands clasped together. It's weird seeing him clean cut again. It's even weirder that he's so quiet.

"Liam?"

He looks up at me as if he was deep in thought and had forgotten I was there. "Yeah?"

"I'm so sorry."

He shrugs. "I'm sure you did your best. Don't worry. It's only hair, right? It'll grow back."

"No, not about the hair. About this whole mess. I should have just kept my mouth shut. "

"Jesus Christ, Liss." He jumps up and brushes chunks of hair off his shoulders in quick, angry movements. "This isn't your fault."

He throws the towel on the ground and strides into the bedroom. I take a breath and follow. "Yes, it is. If I hadn't lost it with those girls in La Perla, none of this would have happened. I just got so damn angry about how they were looking down on me. They didn't believe there was any way you and I could be—"

He spins to face me, and his expression is hard. "Elissa, stop it. Don't you dare try to take the blame for this. It's on me. All of it. I knew it would happen, but I was too f*cking selfish to save you from it. I should be the one apologizing, not you."

With a grunt of frustration, he stalks over to the window and stares out at the ocean. His posture suggests he's bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I decide I should give him a second to calm himself. After running his hands over his freshly cut hair, he takes in a deep breath and slowly lets it out. When he turns back to me, he seems calmer but no less upset.

"I want to tell you this scandal will blow over and nothing like this will ever happen again, but I can't. It will happen again. And again, and again, for decades to come. I've accepted it, but as long as we're together, you're going to be a target, and I can't f*cking bear that." He drops his head. "This is exactly why I didn't contact you for all those years. Because I knew that if I gave into my feelings and brought you into my life, you'd end up paying the price for my fame. But I did it anyway, because I'm a selfish prick who wanted you at any cost."