WHAT VERSION OF YOU IS REAL!??
1279 Words
My chest heaved as I looked back at him. He stood a few feet away, pacing. Three steps each to his right and left. He looked at me, then away—and back again.
Like he didn’t know what to do with me.
”What the hell was that?” I shattered the silence between us.
He stopped his steps, eyes snapping to mine.
“You dragged me out here—why?” I stepped forward, anger flooding through me. My voice rose. “Do you think I’m that pathetic? That I can’t stand up for myself?”
His jaw clenched harder. “She was going to hit you.”
”So?”
”So?” He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “What was I supposed to do? Let her?”
”Yes!” I threw my hands up. “You should have watched her try. I don’t need you to rescue me, Zane. I was handling it.”
”You were handling it.” He repeated. Making the word feel small. Like he didn’t believe me.
My fists clenched at my sides. “Which version of you is real, Zane?” My voice crackled slightly. “The one who said I’d be forgotten? Or the one who just threatened his ex for me?”
Zane’s mouth opened—then closed. He looked away, towards the city, muscles working in his jaw.
Silence stretched between us.
I waited. For an answer, a scoff—anything. He said nothing.
”Thought as much.” I muttered, turning towards the door.
“There you are.” Priya’s voice cut through the air, appearing by the doorway.
I froze in my steps. She stood with her purse under her arm, phone in the other. Her eyes flickered between us—from my flushed face, Zane rigid posture and the distance between us.
I knew she could tell something was wrong.
But she didn’t ask.
”We need to leave.” She said instead, tapping something on her phone. “The earlier we go, the easier tomorrow’s shoot will be.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine.
“The car’s waiting downstairs.”
I nodded quickly, already moving toward the door.
Priya stepped aside lightly to let me pass. I didn’t look back at Zane—not giving him that satisfaction.
I walked through the gala—past the champagne fountain and past the alumni in their expensive suits. My heels clicked against the marble floors, hands trembling at my sides.
Pushing through the front doors—they were gone. The paparazzi, the shouting crowd. It was just our black limo parked at the curb, engine running.
The driver opened the door for me. I gave him a curt nod before I slid in, all the way to the far side of the backseat. Pressing myself against the window, and wrapped my arms around myself.
I stared out the window, at people already getting in their cars. Zane’s face replayed—how he grabbed Jade’s wrist. The way his voice shifted into something dangerous.
He’d blackmail her. Destroy her reputation. He’d get dirty.
For me—why?
The car door opened and someone slid in beside me, closing the door with a soft click behind him.
I didn’t need to look. Yet I could feel him on his side of the car. Heat of him, the tension radiating across the space between us.
Soon—the car pulled away from the curb. The silence between us got louder by each passing second.
I kept my eyes on the window, watching the city lights blur past while I counted each block and focused on breathing.
The car turned into our street after twenty minutes and it rolled to a stop. Without waiting another second, the driver opened my door.
My heels hit the pavement as I got out quickly. I didn’t wait for him. Just walked straight to the building entrance, pushed through the door and headed for the elevator.
I pushed the button, and it opened immediately. I stepped inside—Zane’s hand caught the door before it closed.
His gaze lingered for a second before he pushed the buttons—our floor number and stepped in beside me.
The elevator hummed. Numbers climbing from three to five. My heart pounded even louder. Then, it opened and I walked out first.
I fumbled for the keycard in my purse. Zane unlocked the door before I found it. Ignoring him, I walked in. The apartment was dark except for the dim lights we’d left on.
I kicked off my heels immediately—my eyes squeezing shut briefly in instant relief. I bent down to pick them up.
”Reeve.” His voice stopped me.
I froze in my steps—the heels in one hand and already close to the hallway. Yet—I didn’t turn around.
Silence settled between us—well, behind me. I could hear him breathing, could feel his eyes on my back.
Then he exhaled slowly. “Can you turn around?” His voice was quieter now.
I straightened—still staring at the dark hallway ahead of me.
“Please.”
The word was barely above a whisper but I caught something I’d never heard from him before.
I turned slowly. Dropping the heels on the floor beside me, my eyes scanning the room.
He stood near the couch, hands shoved in his pocket. His tie was loosened, hair messy like he'd ran his hands through it many times. His eyes met mine across the dim room.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m too tired to keep fighting, Zane.” My voice came out flat. “It’s taking a lot of effort to just look at you right now.”
His jaw tightened. “I know.”
”Then what do you want?”
He looked away, towards the window then back at me.
”This show—“ He started, then stopped. “Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. “I need this show to work.”
I stared at him. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.” My voice sounded bitter. “Before you hate me more than you already do, right?”
His brow furrowed. “Reeve—“
”On the red carpet.” I said sharply. “You said the world would forget me. I’m just an inconvenience in your quest to get your life back. So yeah, you made it very clear.”
Something flashed across his face. He looked down, muscles working even more in his jaw.
”Look-“ He forced the word out, then stopped. Like it physically hurt him to continue. He’d said my name—Reeve, not Callahan—and that almost never happened.
I blinked—waiting.
”What I said—“ He paused again, hands clenching at his sides. “It was uncalled for.” The words came out stiff—almost rehearsed. “It was tasteless.”
Tasteless? A sharp laugh escaped my throat.
”Is that your way of saying sorry?” I chuckled again. “Because it sucked, Zane.”
Zane’s eyes snapped up to meet mine.
”This is—I’m going to bed.” I turned towards the hallway—little laughs falling from me.
“I want you to be my girlfriend, Callahan.”
I froze—my heart slowed. Slowly—I turned back.
He was still in that same spot, his hands at his sides and his eyes locked on mine.
”What?” I whispered.
”I want you to be my girlfriend.”
- Writer
