He trailed off. His jaw worked, chewing on words he didn’t quite know how to spit out.
“…do you want to come in?”
The silence that followed washeavy.
I could see it in his face — the uncertainty, the hope, the tiny,flickeringplease.Not a grand gesture. Not a speech. Just a door, open. A chance to step through it.
And maybe that’s what scared me the most.
“I can’t,” I said, because it was true. Even if I wanted to. Even if every cell in my body screamed otherwise.
His hand dropped. He didn’t argue.
I turned back around and walked out the gate. Didn’t slam it. Didn’t run. Just walked, slow and deliberate, pretending it didn’t matter. Like my heart wasn’t trying to tear its way out of my chest.
Back in the car, I gripped the wheel with both hands. Stared straight ahead.
I hated that I’d worn the stupid Figments sweatshirt. I hated that I’d checked my reflection in the mirror before I left. I hated that I still knew how he took his coffee and that some part of me had wondered — hoped — he’d ask me to stay.
And Ireallyhated that he did.
But I think what I hatedmostwasthat I couldn’t drive away. Tears burned in my eyes and threatened to stain my cheeks as I clenched the steering wheel.
God.
This was so fucking embarrassing.
One drunken night, and we didn’t evendoanything.
One stupid convention where he pretended to kiss me.
And a handful of Instagram DMs.
Fuck.
A yelp punched out of my mouth as a loud ‘rap’ came from my window. Ansel was standing there, looking perhaps evenmoreshaken up than I felt. He lifted a brow, a quiet plea for me to acknowledge him.
I cracked the window.
“Can you please talk to me?” There was a hint of desperation tugging at the end of his words, a plea.
“I have to get back to work.” I couldn’t meet his eyes, stillbeating myself up for my stupid bleeding heart and my stupid aching soul.
“I’ll have the production team call and give Figments a donation. Fuck —I’llsend in the donation, June. Please just talk to me.”
“Why, Ansel?” I finally managed through gritted teeth. “I’m—” I let out a groan — louder than I had anticipated.
“Ilikebeing around you, kid.” He leaned against my car, palms pressed against the frame.
My stupid cheeks betrayed me as a flush licked up my spine. “I won’t be a fucking stepping stone, not again.” I could feel the tears sticking in the back of my throat.
“How about a friend, Juniper?” He ducked his head, trying to meet my gaze — the gaze I wasabsolutelyavoiding. “I’m in town for several months, filming a role that Iknowyou are connected to.”
“Stalker.” The word came out of my mouth before I could stop it, and the laugh that came from him settled warm in my chest.
“Everyone in my life holds me at arm’s distance, Haddock. Kellogg, my director, is convinced I can’t act for shit. The rest of the world thinks I can’t act for shit. Maybe I can’t.” He stopped, and I stole a glance at him.
Rookie mistake.
