SKYE

Shit.

Here they are.

Feelings.

This whole time, I've been telling myself that I wouldn't fall too hard. That this was just a bit of fun. That I could handle a casual relationship with Jacks without wanting something more.

I've always been great at lying to myself. One of these days I'm going to learn to stop trusting my lying ass.

I close the door to my room, drop my bag onto the floor, and collapse onto the bed.

This can't be happening.

My throat tightens and I choke back a breath as I search my mind for an explanation.

How could Jacks have a girlfriend? He would have said something, wouldn't he?

I bury my face in my hands, roll over, and scream into a pillow.

Oh god. He did say something. He told me.

When he took the boudoir photos, he said he had someone in mind. He told me he was dating a girl that he had shown the photos to, and at the time I hadn't thought anything of it because I was with Greg.

I'm such an idiot.

All this time, he probably assumed I knew. And why wouldn't I? He literally told me he was seeing someone and here I am making out with him all over the place while his girlfriend is broken-hearted about it.

I'm a garbage person.

I knew I was in too deep. I knew the rumors about Jacks sleeping around. But I ignored them, because I couldn't imagine the Jacks I knew playing with people's hearts like that. I was so sure they had it wrong. But I got played.

Played.

Playboy.

That's what Sticks always calls him. Literally everything around me has been telling me this entire time.

I can't even be mad, really. He was honest with me. He told me up front that he was seeing someone. Heck—I was seeing someone when we met and he kept flirting with me.

What is wrong with me? Do I have a fucking lifetime supply of cluelessness or what?

I start to hyperventilate and my eyes fill with tears.

I knew better and I fell anyway. I got caught up in the whirlwind that is Jackson Ford and I succumbed to the charm. And I have no one to blame but myself.

I need to talk to him without letting my hormones run the show. I need to know if it's true, and I can't just believe a tabloid without hearing it from him.

After drying my eyes and doing my best to look like I haven't been crying, I make my way to Jacks's room and reach out to knock. Before my knuckles hit the door, I hear his muffled voice on the other side.

"I have always said red is your color," he says.

It seems like he's talking to someone, and curiosity has gotten the best of me. I stop for a moment and find myself eavesdropping. After a moment, he speaks again.

"You know I'd do anything for you, doll."

My heart sinks and my stomach churns.

Oh my god. He's talking to her.

If I knock now and she answers the door, I think I might just die right here in the hall. Tears prick my eyes and I bite my lips shut.

Who was I kidding? Did I really think someone like Jacks would seriously be interested in me?

I hear him say something else but I only catch every other word. I don't hear another voice, so he must be talking to her on the phone.

"I want to see you when I'm in town," he says. The next few words are a bit muffled, but I catch the tail end. "I miss you."

He might as well have just ripped my heart out and run over it with a tank.

Stop it, Skye. You knew what this was. Casual. You told yourself you could do casual.

I suck in a staggered breath, waiting on his next words.

"I love you too."

And with that, my heart breaks. It's not sharp and fast like the shattering of glass, but slow and torturous like meat being ripped from my bones. I feel it all. And then I feel nothing.

JACKS

As I hang up the phone, I hear tapping at my door. I peek into the peephole and see Skye standing on the other side, and I feel a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

I open the door and her eyes catch mine, but there's something in them that feels off.

"Hey Buttercup," I say. "What's up?"

"Hi," she says softly. "Could I come in for a minute?"

Her tone takes me by surprise—it's subdued and laced with unease. Her usual sparkle is dimmed.

"Sure." I welcome her inside and close the door. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, um... No, everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

My stomach twists. Those words usually don't accompany good news.

Is she getting back together with Greg?

"Of course. What do you want to talk about?

"I can't-" She pauses. Her eyes dart around the room and seem to land everywhere except my face. "I can't do this Jacks, I'm sorry."

"Can't do what?"

She's not saying what I think she's saying, is she?

"This friends-with-benefits thing we have going on? I don't want to keep doing it."

The air stings my lungs as I attempt to breathe in.

"Friends with benefits? Is that what we are?"

"Whatever you want to call it."

That's what this was about to her? Was she just looking to fool around with a rockstar? Has she been using me this whole time and I've just been too lovesick to see it?

"Are you getting back together with Greg?" I ask.

"No." She shakes her head. "This isn't about Greg, it's just about me."

"I just... Can you just tell me why?"

"You and I—whatever's going on with us—I thought I was okay with it, but I'm just... I'm not."

"Okay with what? With us? Skye, what is going on? What happened?"

"I'm sorry, it's hard to explain," she says, shaking her head. "I just changed my mind, okay?"

She just changed her mind.

I don't understand. Things have been going so well.

What did I do wrong?

"I'm gonna go," she says. She opens the door and looks back at me for a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The door closes and I lay down on the couch, trying to run through what just happened.

Is it a coincidence that she wants to break things off the day she gets a delivery of roses from her ex? Is she still in love with him and she just doesn't want to tell me?

My head is spinning and I'm desperately running through her words for clues.

Friends with benefits.

I thought I was okay with it.

I just changed my mind.

Why? I thought she had feelings for me like I had for her, Was it really that easy to just switch them off?

I hear the jiggle of the doorknob and, for a moment, I think it might be Skye, but Dré appears in the doorway with a large paper bag in his arms. I stand up and run my hands over my face.

"Man, you need to put a stop to these Angel rumors before they bite you in the ass," he says, setting down his bag on a table.

"Fuck, Dré, that's the least of my concerns right now." I lean against the wall and let my head fall back into it with a loud thump.

"What? What's going on?" His brows furrow and he walks over.

"Skye just ended things. She said she just 'couldn't handle it', whatever that means. I feel like my heart is being run through a shredder."

I clutch my chest and sink to the ground.

"Shit," he says, shaking his head. "It's not because of these Angel stories, is it?"

I look up at him.

"Why would Angel have anything to do with any of this?"

"Just bought this from the shop downstairs," Dré holds out a magazine. My ex, Angel, is on the cover next to a paparazzi photo of me walking down a street and the headline Angel: Crushed By Jackson's Cheating. "I know, I know—I shouldn't have given my money to a gossip rag, but I thought you'd want to see it."

I take the magazine from his hand and look closer.

Angel pleads: No more affairs

Jackson plays while away

'I can't stop loving him.'

He looks at me with questioning eyes.

"This was in the shop? Here?"

He nods and I look back to the magazine in my hands.

"Did Skye see this?" I ask.

"I have no idea."

"But she could have?"

He nods.

Fuck.

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