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“Fuck,” I said again.
“What’s wrong, hmmm?” Warm arms enveloped me and the solid heat of Caleb’s firm chest and stomach made me melt against him. He rested his chin on my shoulder and kissed my neck, and I got in one good, deep inhalation of his scent before I felt him stiffen against me and knew he’d looked down at the laptop.
“What the hell is this?”
His voice had moved from honeyed purr to sharp ice in seconds and I winced.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they were there. I swear, I had no idea.”
Caleb grabbed the laptop and peered at the picture, every muscle in his body rigid. He didn’t speak.
“I didn’t—I don’t know how—I wasn’t—fuck, I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Caleb dropped onto the couch with his face in his hands, shaking his head and muttering to himself. All I caught was “I knew it” and “terrible idea,” and a chill ripped through me at the thought that Caleb would think of me as a mistake.
“I…someone must’ve followed me from the studio. I left the car there because I was running late, so then when I came back here…I didn’t mean to, I swear. Caleb?”
He didn’t look at me.
I knelt down in front of him but when I caught a glimpse of his face, I wished I hadn’t. He looked stricken. Face pale, eyes distant, mouth tight. When he spoke, he was tightly controlled, like it was taking every ounce of effort he had not to freak out.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “I know this isn’t your fault. But this is my…my fucking sanctuary, and now these vultures know where it is. It’s…fuck, this is everything I was afraid of. What am I gonna do?”
This last was so plaintive it made me choke up. Seeing Caleb afraid…it shook me. I didn’t know what we should do. I really didn’t.
“See, this is why…” Caleb said to the floor. “This is why we can’t have a relationship.”
My head started throbbing with the beat of my heart, like the rush of adrenaline when I was wearing earplugs before a show.
“But, we do,” I said, and it came out thin and scared. “I mean, I thought we…don’t we?”
“We can’t,” Caleb choked. “Don’t you see? I can’t. Not with all this shit. How can I go outside to the garden if those fucking stalker groupies are here looking for you? How can I do anything? Fuck! I can’t deal with this.”
I heard Caleb’s words. I heard the way his anger was the thinnest veneer over an ocean of churning fear. I could recognize why he was so upset. Really, I could. But it all got twisted into the same refrain. It was simple and gutting, as familiar as breathing, since it was one I’d heard my whole life and written a hundred times.
I don’t want you. You’re not worth it. You’re too much trouble. I’m better off without you.
* * *
—
“Oh my god, Theo Decker! I love you! I love Riven!” The girl practically screamed it into my face and, though I tried to smile, her voice carried far enough that a whole pack of people turned around and made a loose semicircle around us. I smiled at her and said thanks, but people had their phones out, snapping pictures, and every click and giggle shot through me like a hammer on a mirror. My nerves were raw and all I wanted was the Thai takeout in the plastic bag hanging at my side, but I couldn’t quite figure out how to get home. The block and a half between me and my front door seemed to dilate indefinitely with every person who looked my way.
I should’ve gotten delivery, was all I could think. Over and over, as I smiled and murmured my thanks, as the food grew cold in my hand. I’d needed to get out of the house, clear my head, not think about how my obliviousness had fucked things up for Caleb and ruined the one good thing in my life.
“Sorry,” I said, and I could hear the thin edge of temper in my voice. “Gotta run.” I held up my food as if this were a logical group of people who would of course understand that I needed to go eat. But it still took ten more minutes to extricate myself and get back home. I dropped the food on the kitchen table and collapsed onto the sofa.
Sometimes it wasn’t so bad. It was gratifying that people liked our music. Hell, there was the occasional day when I could just flash a smile and keep walking, and it was vaguely fun, like I imagined being popular in high school might have been. But mostly it rubbed every nerve so raw that I started to see groups of people as packs of ravenous wolves, their presence inherently threatening.
