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“It’s not, but speaking of that, did you not ever reach out to him? This was all just a big surprise?”
She asks me as though it’s not a coincidence, and it makes my heart race and my hands go numb. I never wanted to see him again when the visions of that night disappeared. I didn’t want the reminder when I thought my life was normal once again. “I didn’t. We thought it was best …”
I swallow thickly and lick my lips, trying to pull myself together.
“I’m sorry dear, you must be exhausted from such a long day of work. And it looks like you didn’t get much sleep,” she adds with a bit of humor and a wink. I let out an uneasy laugh although I know what she’s implying. I don’t care though, I just want to get out of here and go hide.
“What was it like to go to school together?” Margo asks, maintaining her questioning about the relationship rather than the actual production, which is what Nancy assured me this would be about.
“I didn’t know that was known,” I answer as I tug my dress down a little farther and cross my ankles, but keep my knees touching. It was more for me than her, but before I can respond with any more she asks, “Oh, you don’t want it out there? Is there a reason?”
My body heats. It feels like a fucking inquisition. I simply shake my head no, keeping my lips pinned shut. There’s no way I’m giving this woman any more ammunition.
“Do you mind if I ask what was it like the last time you saw Nathan? Before filming?” She’s seemingly sweet and unassuming in her questioning, but there’s a vulture behind her eyes, waiting for the perfect time to swoop down and claim its kill. I can see it.
I bite the tip of my tongue for a moment before answering, “The last time I saw him was back in high school. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.” I feign a sense of easiness, but the memory of him walking away steals the small smile from my lips. I can’t help that it hurts. The emotions are etched so deeply and entrenched in my memories; they refuse to be ignored.
I shrug and say, “He was a year older, so I had another year to go before I could leave.” I try to make it lighthearted and joking, but her next question destroys my attempt to sway the questioning.
“What happened that drove you two apart?”
She asks the question I didn’t want to hear. But I’m prepared for it. I open my mouth to repeat the words, the script I’ve drilled into my brain for this particular moment.
My lips part and I take in a small breath, but the words are absent.
Fuck. I forget the lines.
“He did something that really hurt me.” I shake my head no, closing my eyes and trying to remember anything about our past except that night. “That’s not it, I’m sorry,” I say and press my fingers into the lines creasing my forehead. “We didn’t go well together. Always fighting and then I thought …” Damn it. I wish I could just think of something. I open my eyes and see everyone watching. What did I already say? Shit, I can’t remember.
“We broke up because we just weren’t meant to be,” I tell her and it shatters my composure. I don’t lie. At least I try not to. But that’s the worst lie I’ve ever told.
“Oh dear, I can tell this is hard for you,” Margo says and plucks a tissue from the box beside her chair, passing it to me. “Take your time, Harlow,” she says as she tilts her head with sympathy. Of the two of us, she’s the better actress right now.
I was a dumbass to think this interview would be anything other than a predator prying for information to gossip about.
I shake my head and breathe out deeply before saying, “We were oil and water back in high school. All we did was fight. I can’t remember what the last one was about.” I shrug and add, “But we didn’t get back together like we did all the times before.”
“Oh, so you were on-again, off-again?” she asks and I nod, thankful that she’s letting the question go. “I imagine that’s the way it is dating the bad boy in high school.”
I huff as I roll my eyes. I never thought of him that way. Not once. There was something else though. Something that crackled between us and drew me to him.
“He wasn’t really a bad boy, to be honest. He was quiet and kept to himself,” I say as I remember the first time I looked behind me in class. I can still feel his eyes on me and how he refused to let my gaze go. “There was an air about him that told me he was bad, but he didn’t really get into trouble. He was just from the bad side of town; you know?”
