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Watching him, I realize that the Rhylan Matthews sitting next to me isn’t the celebrity that I’ve always known. He isn’t the same person I saw confidently and effortlessly walk the red carpet, waving to his fans with a smile that hid any single moment of insecurity. He’s bared raw, entirely vulnerable and exposed. He’s himself.
He’s himself aroundme.
SEVENTEEN
RHYLAN
What I told her is true. I don’t keep people close by. They’re always at an arm’s length. It’s an easy solution to not get hurt. But it gets excruciatingly lonely. The people that do wander into my life and stay have stuck around because I’ve made it feasible. It’s always been easy to keep them close from a distance because I’ve never felt this urge, this compulsion to completely be myself.
I haven’t let anyone in for a long time. Actually, ever. I’ve never let someone get close enough for them toseeme. To allow me to let my guard down and speak freely about how I feel exhausted. How I feel consumed by every morbid, bleak thought that crosses my mind.
When I talk to Ellie, I don’t need to explain myself. There’s no learning curve or adjustment period that most would need to fully grasp what I feel. No moment where I wonder if she’s put off by what I say, as twisted and unhealthy as it sounds. I’m able to talk without any explanation. She just understands. The thought that someone does, so plainly and simply, makes me feel weightless. And a little too good to be true.
She looks at me as I drink what’s left of my milkshake. “Do you ever miss home?”
“I do. More so now than I did when I first moved out here.”
“Why’s that?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I think I was just too busy to miss home back then, but now… I kind of have a moment to miss my family.”
“I would probably miss home,” she says wistfully. “I’ve never been anywhere else but here, and I can’t imagine dropping all that and relocating myself.”
“It wasn’t easy. And my brothers still give me a hard time about it,” I say, a smile teasing my lips thinking about them. “They say I’m missing out on my nieces and nephews growing up.”
“I bet you are, being away from home and all.” She smiles sweetly, her eyes turning into those little crescent moons.
“Yeah, but they send me pictures.”
“Still, that can’t beat the real thing. Holding them and spoiling them like every uncle should.”
“No, I guess not,” I agree. “What about you? Do you have any siblings?”
“Oh, no. I’m an only child.” I see her swallow, the knot in her throat rolling down the center of her neck. I can see it travel down her chest where it settles, taking residence and reminding her of the grief that she still feels. “It’s just me and my mom.”
She looks down at her lap, her fingers linked together and twisting around her cup. She doesn’t say anything before looking back at me. “I have Claire,” she finally offers. “She’s my friend that was at your premiere. She’s majoring in film production. That’s actually why I was there that night. She got invited by her boss, and she dragged me along with her,” she explains. “She’s the best friend I’ve ever had. From the moment we met, we just kind of clicked. No drama, no competition.”
“So she’s like your person?”
“My person?” She looks at me, confused.
“Yeah, like the person that you turn to for anything. To make you laugh, to hold your hand when you’re scared. To hug you when you cry.”
“Huh, I guess you’re right. I never thought of her that way.” She smiles a hint of a smile. “My person,” she whispers to herself.
She looks up at me, her small smile still curving her lips. “Do you have a person?”
I chew over her question. “No, I don’t. I mean, I have people. And I have friends but not really someone I would call my person.”
“Not even your brothers?”
“This sounds kind of weird, but I’ve never been that close to them. I’m the youngest, and they always seemed to have a close bond with each other. I mean, I love them to death, but…” I trail off. “I've always sort of kept to myself. Even as a kid.”
“Little introvert Rhylan,” she teases. “Who would’ve thought?”
I chuckle, finding her taunt endearing. “I have my group of friends though,” I continue to explain. “They’ve been there for me through a lot and kept me company, so I don’t feel so lonely. But I feel like they each have their own person. Like Charles, he has his wife. And my other friends, Chuck and Jackson, they have each other.” My hands move to my chin, scratching my jaw as I consider what my close-knit group of friends here in LA means to me. “I think we all keep each other company though. This can be a pretty lonely life, and it’s good to have friends that kind of get it.”
“Charles? Charles Bradley?”
