Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(33)

“And yet, you’re about to abandon me.”

“Totally different.”

“I know. But it still sucks.” Thinking about it makes an unexpected lump form in my throat.

“Yeah, it does.” He’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “Will you miss me?”

I want to say no, because admitting how much I’m going to miss him is crazy. Instead, I force a smile. “I’m sure we’ll both be so busy we won’t have time to dwell on it.”

He nods. “Yeah. Sure. Dwelling would be bad.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the wall, a deep frown furrowing his brows. The openness from earlier has vanished. “Maybe I’ll bomb in Hollywood and be back here before you know it.”

I’m an asshole for wishing that would happen, but I know very well it won’t. “Liam, Hollywood is going to lose its mind as soon as you arrive. I have no doubt. And when you’re a big star, I’ll be able to say I knew you when.”

He doesn’t answer, but his frown deepens. When I climb out of bed to gather my clothes, he doesn’t try to stop me. I quickly retreat into the bathroom.

Okay, Elissa, get it together.

You’re fine. He’s fine. Everything’s fine.

He’ll leave, and you’ll forget about him, and everything will go back to normal. Stop freaking out.

After a warm shower, I exit to find him sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, wearing only his jeans. When he sees me, the look in his eyes almost makes everything not-fine.

“Elissa, listen—” But I’m sure if I do that, I won’t get out of here in one piece.

“Liam, I really do have to go. Thanks for . . . everything.” All the orgasms, and kisses, and deep, longing gazes. Thanks for screwing with my mind and heart as much as with my body.

I finish pulling on my socks and boots and grab my messenger bag.

When I stand, he walks over and puts his arms around me. Such a simple gesture, but the affection with which he does it makes me sigh.

He drops his head onto my shoulder and squeezes me in a tight hug. “I don’t want this to be the end for us.”

I grip his arms, and try to bring him closer. “I don’t either, but we’re going to be on opposite sides of the country. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t cope with that if you were my boyfriend. It would be torture.”

He pulls back and gazes down at me. “True. If I were your boyfriend I’d definitely need to not be away from you. Ever.” He cups my face and slowly leans down. “I’d need to be close enough to do this, every . . . single . . . day.”

He kisses me, soft and slow, and I’ve never wanted to live in a moment more than I want to live in this one.

“Liss, tell me not to leave. Please. I’d stay if you asked me to.”

“You know you can’t. And if you gave up this opportunity for me, I’d never forgive myself.” Fingers graze over my arms, and I shiver. “Anyway, there are thousands of beautiful women in L.A. I’m sure you’ll forget about me in no time.”

“Not going to happen. Ever. Trust me on that.” He kisses me again, but this time, it’s hard and desperate.

After a few more frantic minutes, we pull back, and we’re both breathing heavily. It would be so easy to let things get out of control, but we both know there’s no point in taking this further. The kiss, or the relationship.

Standing on my toes, I give him one final hug before pulling away. I hate how the distance between us suddenly makes everything feel cold.

I walk to the door and open it, then turn back to him. He looks at me with a conflicted expression, and I know exactly how he feels.

“I’m not saying good-bye,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Because this isn’t over. One day, fate’s going to fix this. Bring us back together. I believe that.”

I smile. “Yeah. One day.” My smile is too fake, and my heart is too sore, and I can’t begin to cope with how he’s looking at me.

“See you soon, Liss.”

I nod. “Bye, Liam. Travel safe.”

I clench my jaw against the tears that threaten as I close the door behind me.





EIGHT


NO EXCUSES


Eight Months Later

Central Park

New York City

I used to think missing someone was a choice, but that was before Liam. Now I realize all you can do is choose to ignore missing someone. The actual longing never goes away. It stays in your body like a toothache, deep in your bones, and every time you forget to deny it, the hum of it builds into a roar that’s so loud, it’s the only thing you can hear.

He’s been gone eight months now, and I still have to concentrate to stop thinking about him every day.

It doesn’t help that Josh is also gone. He got his acceptance letter to The Grove the same time I did, but decided to accept an offer from the UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television instead. For years he’d fantasized about living in L.A., and even though I suspected his decision was fueled by his obsession with all things young, hot, and actressy, I tried to be as supportive as possible.

The result is that the two people I want to be with most are both thousands of miles away. This has worked out well.

I sigh as I cross the road and head into Central Park. Stupid Liam. Making me feel things. Forcing me to miss him. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d hate him.