“Reeve.” I fling my arms around him and we hug each other tight. “You can’t do that. Your career would be over before it’s begun.”
“You matter more than my career, and maybe I had begun to lose sight of that, but not anymore. I’ll give it all up for you, if that’s what you want.”
One part of me screams yes, but I know I can’t ask him to do that. I can’t ask him to give up everything for me. That would drill the final nail in our coffin some day when he came to resent me for forcing him into a life that is less than what he desired. “I would never ask you to give up your dreams for me, Reeve, but I am asking you to consider my feelings before you make decisions that impact me. Don’t shut me out. Let me be involved. No more secrets.”
I press my mouth to his, and he readily opens for me. So many emotions are swirling through my veins as we kiss, but for the first time in twenty-four hours, I have some clarity. I can’t lose Reeve. He is the other half of my soul, which is why the pain cuts so deep.
Reeve deepens our kiss, holding my body flush against his, as he reassures me with his lips and his tongue. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this, but I’m not giving up without at least trying, and I’m not going down without a fight.
17
Audrey and I have settled into our dorm, and we’re making new friends and coming to grips with our classes and assignments, so I don’t have too much time to pine for Reeve. He spent most of September and October auditioning for other roles, and buzz is definitely building for him in Hollywood. November sees the start of filming the second Rydeville Elite movie, but they begin heavy promotion for the first movie in early December. You can’t turn on the TV or open social media without something popping up about the impending release.
“Have you seen this?” Audrey looks at her phone as we’re gathering our stuff to head home for Christmas break.
“You know I shut down all my social media accounts, so no.” Since stuff started appearing online about Reeve and Saffron potentially “dating,” the level of hatred toward me from the Saffhards—Saffron’s die-hard fans—escalated to such an extent I had to remove myself altogether from social media. While some of Reeve’s fans came out in support of me, most were shipping Reeve with his costar and trolling me like crazy. All that shit is depressing, and I’m taking what steps I can to protect my mental health and my sanity.
“Reeveron,” Audrey says, in a scathing tone, and I stop folding my sweaters to stare at her. “That’s what the fandom is calling Reeve and Saffron.”
“Great, they have a ship name. Totally awesome.” Sarcasm drips from my tone.
“This sucks.” She slings a comforting arm around me.
I rest my head on her shoulder. “It does, especially when I barely get to speak to him these days.” Reeve is on an international tour at the moment, so between our busy schedules and the time difference, it’s virtually impossible to find time to talk. We’re communicating mainly via messages, but he’s coming home for three days over Christmas, and I can’t wait to see him.
“Are you holding up okay? Will you see Alex at Christmas?”
“It’s harder than I thought it would be, and I don’t know.” She chews on her lip as pain flares in her eyes.
“What’s happened?”
Tears flood her eyes. “I think he’s already found a new girlfriend.”
“No way.” I shake my head. “I can’t see Alex in a new relationship already. I saw his face the day you two said goodbye. He was devastated.”
Her fingers fly over her screen. “Look.” She thrusts her cell in my face. “See that blonde? She’s in a few of his photos, and she’s hanging off him in every single one.”
I scroll through the photos, examining them closely. “All this proves is Alex has groupies. See how she’s draped over him?” I point to the image on the screen before flicking to the next one. “Sure, he’s smiling at the camera, but he’s not touching her. She’s touching him.” She’s a fuck buddy, most likely, but I’m not saying that out loud because I don’t want to upset my bestie, and Audrey has been a rock for me this past year.
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” She wipes her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. “We broke up, so he’s free to date, and I can’t get pissy about it. I just didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
I bundle her into a hug, and she sobs into my shoulder. “We’re a sorry pair,” I admit when we break apart. “And I know exactly what we need. Movie night at my place with ice cream. Your parentals aren’t home until tomorrow anyway, right?”