Good at Being Alive(100)

    Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,

To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,

Awake for ever in a sweet unrest



I wasn’t an English major. I don’t like poetry. But if I were forced to draw a conclusion, I’d say Keats has chosen to remain with her in spite of the risks.

And even if Bex remains a mystery to me, the one thing I’m certain of is that beneath the jokes and the tears and the threatening to punch a horse, there’s a loving little heart, just waiting for someone to see and adore everything she is.

Which I do. And I’d be content to worship at her feet, to lie beside her for as long as she was willing to have me if I can only convince her to give me the chance.

I hated the way Kieran shouted what he felt to the world, the way he allowed himself to look like such a fool. But when you love someone, that’s what you do. Bex deserves all that and more.

I pick up the phone and return Lars’s call. I cut him off as he launches into a tirade about how I’ve fucked up everything.

“Lars,” I tell him, “I have an idea.”





Bex


On the day before the marathon, I enter the hotel lobby with my stomach in knots.

There hasn’t been a word from Theo, who was due here yesterday. He didn’t swing by. He didn’t even call.

Clearly, he’s not planning to appear on my doorstep ready to proclaim his love. Instead, he’s going to slink away with a wince and an apology, yet here I am, searching the lobby, hoping for a glimpse of him—his finely wrought face, that lovely soft mouth. Here I am, already saying, It was unreasonable to ask so much of him, Bex. You can’t demand he declare himself when you’ve only slept together for a couple of months.

But that’s bullshit because it was so much more than that. Maybe we only started sleeping together in July, but we’ve been together in every other way since March. It was more than enough time for me to choose him.

If he doesn’t feel the same way, there’s nothing more to be said. I’ve spent enough of my life pretending I’m something I’m not in order to be loved.

Katrina waves from across the lobby and jogs over to where I stand. “Our final shoot!” she squeals, giving me a hug. “I’m just on my way to set up our dinner.”

Yeah. Our final shoot. I’m far less jubilant about it than she is. I have no idea who I’ll be once this is done. I thought I knew…but now I’m back at square one. It’s hard to imagine how the show will even air—multiple articles are quoting a “source” behind the scenes saying that Theo is a violent guy and that he and I weren’t even together when filming started. I’m fairly certain I know who that source is.

I take the room key from the front desk clerk, forcing a smile as I turn to Katrina again. “Save me a seat. I’m just going to run upstairs and change.”

She frowns. “Have you heard from him at all?”

I hoist my bag over my shoulder and take a few steps away from the check-in desk, leaning against a red velvet chair. “It was just more of his vague bullshit. I told him to figure out what he wants. Given that he hasn’t contacted me since, it’s pretty clear what he wants…or more accurately, does not want.”

She sighs. “He watched things backfire pretty dramatically for his brother, you know? And he’s a private sort of person.”

That’s exactly the problem, though. I’m someone who’s never been sure where she stands with anyone, who’s never been put first, and he’s someone who’d never admit it even if it were true. Try to get him to say he loves his own mother and he’d only admit to regarding her with fondness.

I can’t go through the next twenty years of my life uncertain that the most important person in my world even cares.

“He made no effort, Katrina,” I reply. “That probably says plenty, right there.”

I’m admitting it mostly for my own sake, in the hopes it’ll start to sink in.

She pulls me into a quick hug. “It’s going to be okay, Bex.”

I nod, but I don’t think that’s true.

In my room, I comb through the two outfit options I brought for tonight. There will be no more assistance from Mindy, unfortunately, but I’ve cobbled together a Mindy-like outfit: a beige lace skirt, paired with a white blouse.

I like the woman I see in the mirror. She looks healthy, but also certain of herself in way I wasn’t before. My self-assurance, in the past, was mostly bravado, fueled by the fact that I had nothing to lose. This is different: I know I bring something to the table, even if I’m not entirely sure what it is. That won’t make tonight and tomorrow easier, however.

I take a deep breath as I walk to the elevator and head down to the restaurant—will he look at me and glance away? Will I see the end written on his face before he’s ever said it aloud?

The hotel has placed us in a private room for our dinner. I press a hand to my stomach as I enter and search the table for Theo.

He isn’t here. And there’s only one seat left at the table, the one Katrina has saved for me, which must mean he’s not planning to come.

“Where is he?” I whisper to Katrina as I slide into the seat beside her.

She bites her lip. “He had something else to do tonight. Don’t worry, though. I mean…I know he’s here somewhere. He’ll be at the race.”