“So, what if I did?” He shrugs. “We all did a line after the premiere. It’s not a big deal.”
“Maybe not to you. But it is to me.” I move toward the door. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, Reeve.”
“I could say the same thing to you.”
“Then I guess we both know what to do.” Without saying another word, I exit the room, feeling like someone has taken a machete to my heart.
19
I wake the following morning, after a sleepless night crying into my pillow, determined to end things with Reeve permanently. Pain eviscerates every part of me even thinking the thought, but I don’t see how we can continue with the way things are.
Reeve shows up that night, with flowers and apologies, promising me he’ll do better. He swears he’ll stop taking drugs and make more time for me. When he begs me not to break up with him, to give him a chance to make things right, I concede. I still love him so much, and I can’t bear the thought of losing him, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that bitch played a part in my decision-making process. If I break up with Reeve, I’ll be making things easier for Saffron. She’ll be waiting in the wings to console him, and he’ll get sucked even deeper into her orbit.
I don’t want that for him, because she’s poison and she’ll only bring him down.
But I’m also not going to let her steal him from me. We have invested years in one another, and I’m not letting some psycho bitch trample over our history and destroy our plans for the future. I need to trust Reeve loves me and believe our love is strong enough to withstand the next couple of years and come out stronger for it.
The months pass, and I throw myself into college life to avoid confronting the gaping hole Reeve’s absence leaves in my heart. He is crazy busy between auditions, promotion, and filming, and we barely talk more than a couple of times a week. I haven’t seen him since January, and we weren’t together for our birthdays again, which sucked. Pictures of Reeve, with Saffron, blowing out candles on his birthday cake made the front page of almost every magazine and newspaper, forcing me to confront the fact the world believes they are dating and that he and I are no more.
It sickens me, and my heart physically aches all the damn time. Yet, I don’t voice my fears to Reeve anymore, because I’m sick of sounding like a broken record.
Freshman year of college ends, and I vacation in Europe with Audrey for the entire summer break. Reeve’s career is on the up and up, and he has landed another couple of high-profile roles. He’s filming a new movie with established actors all summer in Australia with no break, which means I won’t get to see him.
At least he’s not with that conniving bitch. Saffron is occupied filming in the US, so I am able to relax a little. Speculation about the state of their relationship is rampant online, along with anticipation for the next Rydeville Elite movie. Reeve now has forty million followers on social media, according to Audrey. I avoid looking at any posts or media commentary. I prefer to languish in ignorant bliss, even if my overactive imagination loves torturing me on a near constant basis.
I return to my parents’ house in August for a week, before college resumes, and Reeve makes a surprise appearance, much to my delight. We stay holed up in his house for the week, catching up. Paparazzi follow his every move these days, and fans turn up in the most obscure places, so hiding out is our only option. We can’t be seen together, but I’m not complaining. Having Reeve to myself is something I’ve desperately craved.
I’d like to say it helps, but there’s a massive void between us, and even sex can’t bridge the gap. For the first time ever, there’s a disconnect in our relationship, and it’s breaking my heart. Everything I believed I had mapped out for my future is in flux, and I’m drowning in a sea of uncertainty. I should talk to Reeve about it. The old Vivien would’ve had no qualms in broaching the topic, but I can’t form the words to open such a conversation, and I think Reeve is the same. We avoid talking about the elephant in the room, but I wonder how long it will be before one of us cracks.
“What’re you going to do?” Audrey asks when we meet up at our new apartment a few days before classes resume. Neither of us could bear to return to the dorms, so we found a plush, spacious, two-bedroom penthouse that is only a ten-minute walk from campus.
“I don’t know.” I sigh, flopping down on our new leather couch. “I’m in limbo, and it feels like my life is on hold.”