Sticks & Stones

I still didn't call Parker the next morning.

Or the morning after that.

Violet had stayed over both nights, making sure I ate and slept and didn't spiral into complete self-destruction. But when it came to actually talking to Parker, actually addressing what I'd realized, I froze.

"You have to tell him," Violet said on Sunday morning, watching me stare at my phone for the hundredth time.

"I know."

"So call him."

"I will."

"When?"

"Soon."

Violet gave me a look that said she saw right through me. "You're scared."

"I'm not scared, I'm just..." I trailed off because there was no good way to finish that sentence. "What if he doesn't feel the same way? What if I've already ruined everything by suggesting we end things? What if telling him just makes it worse?"

"Or," Violet said gently, "what if he feels the same way and you're both just idiots?"

Before I could respond, my phone rang. Parker.

I stared at it like it was a live grenade.

"Answer it," Violet hissed.

I answered. "Hey."

"We need to talk." Parker's voice was clipped. Professional. Nothing like his usual warm tone. "About the announcement. For ending the relationship."

Right. Because I'd said we should stop. Because I'd been jealous and irrational and suggested ending the best thing in my life without thinking it through.

"Okay," I managed.

"I'm coming over. I'll be there in twenty minutes." It wasn't a question.

He hung up before I could respond.

Violet and I stared at each other.

"Well," she said. "At least you'll have to talk to him now."

"I'm going to throw up."

"You're going to be fine. Just tell him the truth."

"What truth? 'Hey Parker, remember when I said we should end our fake relationship? Well, turns out I'm actually in love with you and have been for months but didn't realize it because I'm emotionally oblivious'?"

"Yes. Exactly that." Violet grabbed her bag. "I'm leaving before he gets here. You two need to talk alone."

"Don't leave me—"

"You'll be fine. Just be honest." She hugged me quickly. "And text me after so I know you're both alive."

She left, and I spent the next eighteen minutes pacing my apartment and trying to figure out what to say. By the time Parker knocked, I'd rehearsed and discarded at least fifteen different opening lines.

I opened the door.

He looked tired. Worn down. His hair was messier than usual, and he was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie—his comfort clothes, not his "I'm about to see people" clothes.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi."

The tension in the air was thick.

"Parker—"

"I've been thinking about how to word it." He pulled out his phone, not quite looking at me. "Something simple, right? 'We've decided to focus on our individual careers and remain close friends. Please respect our privacy during this time.' Standard stuff."

"Parker, wait—"

"Or we could go more personal. Talk about how much we've grown and how we'll always care about each other. That might play better with the fans." His voice was getting tighter. "What do you think?"

"I think we shouldn't—"

"Or maybe we don't say anything at all. Just stop posting together and let people figure it out themselves." He was scrolling through his phone now, still not meeting my eyes. "That might be easier. Less messy."

"Parker, stop."

"Stop what? You're the one who wanted it.”

"I didn't mean—"

"What did you mean, then?" His voice rose slightly. "Because from where I'm standing, you watched one episode of my show and decided you were done with me."

"It wasn't like that—"

"Then what was it like? Explain it to me, Cee, because I've been trying to figure it out for three days and I can't." He shoved his phone back in his pocket. "Was it the kiss? Because that was acting. You know that was acting."

"I know that!"

"Then why did you shut me out? Why did you stop answering my calls? Why did you decide, out of nowhere, that we should end everything?" He was pacing now, energy crackling off him. "Do you know what the last few months have been like for me? Working sixteen-hour days, missing you constantly, trying to build something real while knowing it was all supposed to be fake?"

I froze. "What?"

"Nothing." He ran a hand through his hair, looking away. "Forget it."

"No, what did you just say?" My heart was pounding. "Something real?"

"It doesn't matter."

I felt my voice start to crack. "Why wouldn’t it matter? Of course it matters. If you’re hurting, if you’re feeling awful, of course I’m going to care. I would always care. Because I love you.”

Silence.

Parker stared at me. "What?"

There was no taking it back now. “I’m in love with you. I want you. I need you." I almost laughed because of how silly it was to keep saying slightly different phrases that all mean the same thing. “I really can’t make it any more obvious, you know.”

The silence was deafening.

"Please say something," I whispered.

"You're in love with me."

"Yes."

"How long?"

"I don't know. Weeks? Months? Maybe the whole time?" I fidgeted in my seat. "I'm not good at this, Parker. I've never been good at romantic feelings. You know that.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my rapidly beating heartbeat. “And I know it took me a long time to realize. I’m sorry…I’m sorry for being so clueless."

He took a step closer. "You're in love with me."

I laughed nervously. "You keep saying that."

"Because I'm trying to process it." Another step. "Are you being for real? Because if this is a joke, or a prank, or—"

"No, you idiot!” I was starting to relax. I’ve been worrying so much about stupid things. Both of us, really. “Why would I joke about this?”

“I love you too, Cee.”

My stomach did a cartwheel. It’s silly, because in this awkward conversation we were having, it was getting kind of obvious that we felt the same way about each other. But still—I was just so happy. Hearing those words from him made me feel like jumping over the moon, or dancing in the rain, or I don’t know, whatever it was that the romantic heroines did in their stories. Whatever it was, I wanted to do it.

Parker leans over, closing the gap between us. I had never seen him like this before. He was so close. His voice was soft, but I could still hear his words clearly. “I really want to kiss you.”

“Yes, please.”

He quickly pulled me in and I closed my eyes, focusing on the feeling—It felt like warmth, safeness, and of being home. It was also a little exciting. I could feel my heart beating loudly, and I wondered if he heard it too.

I’m sure he couldn’t have been kissing me for more than a few seconds, but it almost felt like the world had slowed down for just us two.

"So," he said. "Does this mean we're not breaking up?"

"We were never actually together, remember?"

"Well, we should probably fix that." He pulled me close, and I rested my head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat steady and sure. "Celeste Okawa, will you be my actual, real, non-fake girlfriend?"

"That's the worst proposal I've ever heard."

He pouts. "Answer the question."

I tilted my head up to look at him. "Yes. Obviously yes."

He kissed me again, softer this time, and I felt something settle in my chest. Something that had been anxious and uncertain for months finally finding solid ground.

"We're going to have to tell people," I said eventually. "About the fake dating. About this being real now."

"Or," Parker said slowly, "we don't."

I pulled back to look at him. "What?"

"We don't tell anyone. We just... keep living our lives. Together. Privately." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm tired of performing, Cee. I want this to be just ours for a while."

The idea sent warmth through my chest. No cameras. No performance. Just us, figuring out this real relationship without the pressure of public opinion.

"Okay. Private relationship. Just us."

"Just us," he confirmed. "No more fake dating. No more plans. Just... seeing where this goes."

I smiled. "I can work with that."