“You look like shit,” he said.

Yeah, it was a crappy thing to say. But it was so Martin. So thoughtless and candid. I did look like shit. And I realized that Martin wasn’t a very nice person, not even to me. He was honest first and foremost; sometimes his honesty meant he said nice things to me. But he was never nice for the sake of being nice, or polite because he wanted to spare my feelings. Not once.

I wondered if it even occurred to him that I had feelings…

“Have you been eating?” He shuffled a step forward, his tone nonchalant, almost friendly. “You need a sandwich, let me buy you lunch.”

I opened my eyes, affixed them to the floor, but remained silent. Seeing him had satisfied some fundamental—and likely unhealthy—need to witness how he was dealing with the breakup. Was he as tortured and ruined as me? I had my answer and now I couldn’t wait to never see him again.

Unexpectedly he blurted, “If you don’t talk to me I’ll go crazy.”

His words were quiet but rough, as though torn from his chest. They certainly had the effect of tearing at my chest. Searing pain flared in my stomach and I had to count to ten before I could breathe again.

I said nothing. Had this happened before today, had he approached me even one hour earlier, I likely would have burst into tears and begged him to take me back. But, for better or for worse, seeing him moments ago looking so well had flipped my off switch. I’d finally accepted we were over—mostly due to the fact that we never truly were.

“I love you.” He exhaled the words and I almost believed him. He was so close I could feel the breath fall over my face, a whispered caress that pierced my heart and stomach, ripping and shredding. He repeated, “I love you.”

Then he touched me, his hands cupping my face.

“Don’t.” I tried to jerk my head away but he held me tighter, stepping into me and backing me against the wall.

I lifted my eyes but couldn’t raise them above his neck as he tilted my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me. I didn’t kiss him back, holding onto my earlier resolve and numbness like a lifeline. His forehead fell against mine and he held me there, breathing my air.

“Please talk to me. Please.”

“There is nothing to say.” I was gratified by the hollow quality and steadiness of my voice.

“I need you.”

I shook my head in denial, because I knew he didn’t. If he needed me then he wouldn’t have let me go, he would have chosen us over revenge. If he needed me then he wouldn’t have been able to smile at pretty blondes and look exactly the same as he had three weeks ago after a vacation in the Caribbean.

“You need to leave me alone,” I responded through clenched teeth.

“I can’t.” He pressed his lips to mine again, taking another kiss, lingering there like he was afraid to move, like it would be the last time. He spoke against my mouth. “I can’t leave you alone. It’s been almost a month and you’re all I think about.”

“That’s a lie.”

“No, goddamn you, it isn’t! Haven’t you noticed me following you? Haven’t you seen me outside your dorm, waiting for you? Fucking hell, Parker, you never see me, you never have, but that doesn’t mean I’m not there.”

I gripped his wrists and pulled his hands from my face, twisting away and seeking to put distance between us. His words were confusing because I did see him, just moments ago, smiling at someone else and appearing completely fine. I didn’t want his words. I didn’t want anything from him.

Despite my certainty and earlier pledge, I felt the beginning of a chin wobble and a stinging moisture behind my eyes. “If I’m all you think about then are you ready to tell the world your father is an evil asshole and being with me is not an alliance between our families?”

This was met with silence and the silence fed my detachment.

I huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“Kaitlyn, there is no reason why we can’t be together in secret, if you would only—”

It was the same argument; nothing had changed, so I interrupted him. “If we’re seen together then all of this has been pointless. My mother—”

“Fuck your mother,” he growled.

I winced, stared at the floor because I didn’t want to see him, and when I spoke my voice was unsteady. “This is pointless. You need to let me go.”

“What if I can’t? Hmm? What if I don’t? What if I call the Washington Post and tell the reporter that we’re still together, that our families are closer than ever?”

I finally lifted my eyes to his so he could see how serious I was, and that—in that moment—I hated him a little. I looked at him even though it hurt like a motherfucker.

Somehow I managed to say, “That’s blackmail.”

“If that’s what it takes.” He punctuated this with a belligerent shrug.

I shook my head, mostly at myself for thinking we were ever a team. “Martin, there’s a time to fight, and there is a time to bow out gracefully.”

“You never fight,” he spat, his mouth twisted in an unattractive sneer, his eyes dark blue flames.

I fleetingly thought of how I’d fought for him in front of his father, how I’d fought for him and for us in his room three weeks ago. But what was the point? Arguing would get us nowhere. We didn’t exist.

Instead I said, “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to blackmail you? Issue threats? Call your father and tell him about your plan to sell his houses?”

He winced like I’d struck him, blinking several times in rapid succession. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“No. I wouldn’t. I respect your decision, even if I think it’s a mistake.”

“So you bow out gracefully, like a coward.”

“You’re wrong. You’re so wrong. I’m fighting for what I believe in, I’m going to do the right thing—”

“Self-sacrificing, martyring bullshit!’

“—and I’m not going to change my mind. So it’s time for you to find the self-control to bow out gracefully and let me go.”

Eyes flashing, Martin shifted on his feet, his stance telling me he was preparing to launch another verbal volley, so I quickly added, allowing a hint of pleading in my voice, letting it waver and shake, “If you ever had the slightest feeling for me, you will respect my decision. You will walk away right now and you will leave me alone. I need you to leave me alone. You are ruining me.”

His blue-green eyes were glassy and raw with pain as they searched mine. I recognized his hurt because it was an echo of the suffocating agony I’d been carrying with me every day.

After a long moment he nodded once, his mouth a flat line. His eyes fell away, searching but not looking at any one thing. I saw his chest rise and fall, heard the end of an unsteady exhale, before he turned and left.

His stride (as expected) was confident as always. Every step of his smooth gait just proved that Sam had been right. He was a universe of one and I wasn’t enough.

I watched him go, watched the back of his head until he turned a corner.

Then I ran home. I sat in my dark closet. And I cried.

~END PART 2~