Escaping Perfect (21 page)

“Is that him? Where is he? I bet he's at some awesome Luke Ralston after-party. We should go!”

I hit the ignore button.

Fiona's eyes narrowed. “Did you just ignore him?”

“Fiona, enough,” Shelby snapped.

I saw Britta's eyes flick in the rearview to look back at us. I stared at Shelby.

“What?” Fiona asked. “I was just—”

“You're just driving everyone crazy with your nonstop commentary,” Shelby said. “Leave Lia alone. She's clearly
crashing. In fact, I think we could all use some peace and quiet for the rest of the drive.”

As if to contradict her sister, Britta turned on the stereo full blast. Thankfully, she chose an alt-rock station and not a country one. But while it wasn't the peace and quiet Shelby had asked for, it did have the desired effect. Fiona sat back down in her seat in a huff and faced forward. There was no way anyone could talk over the din.

As grateful as I felt toward Shelby for getting Fiona to stop, I wasn't about to show it. Instead I curled into a ball, as far away from her as I could get, and leaned my head on the door. I had no clue why she'd gotten my back just then, why she'd been so nice to me earlier in the dressing room, but she was not my friend.

I closed my eyes and prayed for sleep and that somehow when I woke up, this would all turn out to be one big nightmare.

Chapter Twenty-One

I was up all night
trying to figure out what to say to Jasper. How was I going to explain the fact that I was breaking up with him? He knew I loved him. He knew I was happy whenever I was with him. I couldn't walk in there and say, “Jasper, I have to break up with you because I can't be photographed with you,” so . . . what?

As I approached Daria's garage, I could hear the strains of his guitar music. My insides were tied into intricate, inextricable knots. He was going to hate me. He was going to hate me forever. And the thought of that was worse than anything else I'd ever dealt with.

This morning the Peach Street wall had proclaimed, in big red letters:

COURAGE IS BEING SCARED TO DEATH AND SADDLING UP ANYWAY.

But did that mean I should be brave enough to break up with Jasper, or brave enough to come clean and deal with the consequences?

Maybe I should just tell him the truth,
I thought, arriving at the exterior door.
Maybe he'll understand and we can run away together.

But I knew that wasn't even a remote possibility. Even if Jasper did forgive all the lying I'd done, he'd never agree to go on the lam with me. We'd only known each other two weeks, and he was just now grasping his lifelong dream. There was no way I could ruin that for him. I loved him too much to do that.

Chin up, Cecilia. Just get in there and get this over with.

Hand shaking, I pushed open the door. Jasper immediately looked up, and his face broke out in a killer grin. He was standing in the middle of the room in front of a mic stand, his guitar strap slung over one shoulder, his blond hair still wet from his shower. He took the guitar off, placed it on a nearby stand, and threw his arms open.

“How's it feel to be the girlfriend of country's newly minted Next Big Thing?” he asked.

All I wanted to do was run into those arms and let him
hold me. I wanted to tell him everything and have him say that we'd figure it out. That everything would be all right. But that just wasn't possible. I hugged myself but otherwise couldn't seem to make myself move.

“What's wrong?” Jasper's arms fell along with his face.

“I can't do this,” I croaked.

“Can't do what?” he asked.

“This. Us,” I said. Somehow I managed to look him in the eye. I owed him that much, at least. Jasper looked stricken.

“What?” He closed the space between us in three long strides and reached for my hand. I angled away from him, still clutching my own arms, afraid of what I might do if he touched me. “Lia . . . why? What's this about? Is it about last night? All those girls? I told you, none of that means anything to me. You're the only girl I want.”

I blinked. How had I not thought of this before? It was the perfect excuse for a breakup. Jealousy. Irrational, insane jealousy.

“Really?” I spat. “Have you talked to Shelby yet? Have you told her it's over?”

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “It's complicated.”

“How is it complicated?” His response had gotten right under my skin, and real anger bubbled to the surface. “You told me you'd talk to her. You promised me. If you won't even do that,
then how do I know you
won't
hook up with some other girl on the road?” I demanded, infusing my voice with venom. “You're going to be spending more time in Nashville, going to all these swank events, meeting more models and singers and . . .”

My throat tightened at the thought, and I realized that all of that actually would suck, knowing he was out there surrounded by girls who wanted a piece of him. It made it that much easier to sound believable when I said, “How am I ever going to be able to trust you?”

Jasper took a step back. His hurt was written all over his face. “How will you be able to trust me? Because I'd never cheat on you, Lia. I told you I loved you. You know how many girls I've said that to?”

I shook my head ever so slightly, not trusting myself to speak.

“Zero. Zilch. Not one,” he told me.

Not possible. Not. Possible. All that time he'd been with Shelby, all the faith she had in the fact that they were going to be together in the end, and he'd never said those three little words to her?

But when I looked into his eyes, I knew he was telling the truth, and my heart shattered all over again.

“It doesn't matter,” I said.

“How?” His voice broke, and the look on his face nearly
killed me. “How can you say that to me? It does matter. It matters more than anything.”

He grabbed me by my upper arms, gently but firmly, and pulled me as close as we could get with my elbows and wrists between us.

“I love you, Lia.”

One tear spilled over onto my cheek. What I wouldn't have given to hear him say that and use my real name. But he wasn't talking to me. He was talking to a lie. And it was my fault. I'd done this to him. To us.

“I know you think that, but it's not true,” I said. “Besides, your dream matters to you too. And you're right on the verge of living it.”

I managed, somehow, to squirm my way out of his grip and turn my back on him.

“You should go live it, Jasper. Go start the life you were meant to have . . . without any strings attached.”

My limbs felt heavy as I moved toward the door, as if uttering those words had added a hundred pounds to my frame.

“Lia.” His voice was strained. “Lia, don't.”

“Break a leg, Jasper,” I said.

Then I yanked the door open, leaving my heart on the garage floor behind me, and ran.

*  *  *

IT'S DONE.

I texted a simple message to Shelby and hit send, just as I got to the top of the steps on the Taylors' front porch. The sky was overcast, a blanket of swirling shades of gray, and as I reached for the doorbell, a warm wind nearly knocked me sideways. I was barely holding it together, gasping in breaths and hugging my hoodie to my sides, and when Duncan opened the door, I just started crying.

“Lia, what happened?” he asked.

I took a step toward him, he took a step toward me, and before I knew it my face was pressed into his shoulder and his arms were around me. My whole body was racked with sobs, and try as I might, I couldn't seem to get out a coherent word other than “Jasper.”

“Oh, man.” Duncan reached up and placed his warm hand atop my head. “He broke your heart, didn't he?”

I looked up at him through my tears. “No,” I managed to get out. “I think I broke his.”

Duncan blinked. “Come on inside before you get blown away.”

We walked into the house, through the foyer, and into the large living room. There was a NASCAR race on the large-screen TV. We sat down on the couch and Duncan handed me a box of tissues.

“It's gonna be okay,” he told me. “Honestly, as crappy as you feel now, you're better off in the long run. Jasper is . . . he's not good enough for you.”

I looked up at him, my eyes rimmed with wet. “Thanks, but don't do that. Don't talk bad about him. He didn't do anything wrong.”

Duncan shoved his hands down his thighs. “Yeah, not yet,” he said under his breath.

The front door slammed, and Fiona walked in, shaking out her denim jacket. “It just started to pour out there,” she said, and froze in the doorway when she saw me.

“Lia! What's wrong?” she asked.

“She and Jasper broke up,” Duncan informed her.

“What? No! Why?”

Fiona plopped down next to me and pulled me into a hug. As awful as I felt at that moment, this was kind of nice, having people to talk to, people to commiserate with. Maybe Jasper wasn't the only person who cared about me after all.

“I don't want to talk about it,” I said.

In truth I couldn't talk about it. None of it would make sense without all the details. Details I could never, ever share.

“Okay, then you don't have to,” Fiona said. “Duncan,
find us a stupid buddy comedy to watch. I'm going to go make the sickest ice cream sundaes you've ever seen.”

“No, that's okay,” I said, and blew my nose. “I'm sure you guys have stuff to do. You don't have to sit around and coddle me.”

“Oh, but we want to,” Duncan said, reaching for the remote.

Fiona paused halfway to the kitchen and looked back at me. “That's what friends are for.”

*  *  *

By the time the sun began to creep through my windows, my eyes were so puffy and dry I wasn't sure I'd ever see straight again. Fiona, Duncan, and I had spent all day watching stupid movies and eating junk food, and by the time I'd left their house late the night before, I'd started to feel like maybe I could do this. Maybe I could lead a Jasper-free existence.

Then I'd been alone, for hours on end, and my brain and my heart had gone to war. And there is no sleeping in wartime.

The pounding on the door sent me vaulting to my feet. I grabbed my phone and checked the time. It was barely five a.m. This time it had to be the FBI. Who else would be here that early? Clearly, one of the pictures from the
concert had gotten out. Someone who knew me had seen it and contacted the authorities. I stood there for a moment at the foot of my bed, frozen, my pulse racing a mile a minute and then, suddenly, I didn't care. I was too tired and too sad and too disappointed to care.

I walked to the door and opened it without even checking the peephole. Jasper took two steps into the room, grabbed me in his arms, and kissed me. He tasted of beer covered up by mint toothpaste, but it didn't matter. My whole body surrendered, until I heard Britta's footfall behind us.

“What's going on?” she asked.

Jasper pulled away and looked me in the eye. “What's going on is that I'm not going to let you break up with me,” he said. “I love you, okay? I told Shelby last night that I love you. That whole thing? It's over. And I am going to show you exactly how much of a choirboy I can be. I'm going to
make
you trust me. You got it?”

My chest heaved. He'd talked to Shelby? Really? Now? Finally?

And then I went weightless. If he'd broken it off with her, she must have been pissed. What if she'd decided to take revenge? What if she'd outed me?

“Lia? Are you even listening to me?”

I focused on Jasper. His blue eyes. The desperation and hope in them. And I forgot about everything else. I just wanted him. He was the only thing in the entire world that I wanted. I leaned in to him and he wrapped his arms around me and sighed.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I'm listening. And I love you, too.”

“Thank the good Lord,” he said into my hair.

This was going to work. It had to work. I'd tell Jasper the truth. If he really loved me, he would understand. Daria could back me up—tell him just how strict my mother was. He'd understand why I'd done what I'd done. And then he could help me talk to Shelby and convince her not to sell me out.

It was a thin hope, but it was hope.

*  *  *

Two hours later, at Jasper's house, I was curled up against his chest, content and half-clothed, while he gently combed his fingertips over my hair in a soothing, rhythmic way.

“What were you thinking yesterday?” he murmured, and kissed my forehead lightly.

“I don't know. Obviously I had some kind of psychotic break.”

My tone was light, but my chest felt heavy and full. At some point I was going to have to tell him the truth.
About who I was. About why I was here. At some point I was going to have to deal with Shelby, too. Convince her to let us be.

But not now. Not right this second. So I decided to enjoy this while it lasted.

“I love you, you know,” Jasper said, leaning back so he could look me in the eye. “No matter what.”

His gaze was so intense that for a brief, crazy moment I wondered if he knew. If maybe he was prompting me to say something to reveal myself. It was on the tip of my tongue, but then my meager courage dissolved.

“I love you too.” I took a breath. “No matter what.”

The front door opened and slammed, and Jasper instantly sprang out of bed. “What the—”

Suddenly Shelby appeared in the bedroom doorway, totally out of breath and disheveled in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Sitting up, I was about to explain what I was doing in Jasper's bed, but she didn't seem at all shocked. Just pale. Sweaty and very pale.

“Shelby?” Jasper exclaimed, grabbing a pair of shorts off the floor. “What the hell? Do you really think you can just waltz in here and—”

“You have to go,” Shelby said to me, cutting him off. “They're here, Lia. You have to get out of here. Now.”

My heart plummeted into my toes, even as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Jeans. Where the hell were my jeans? I fumbled my glasses from the bedside table and shoved them on.

“What do you mean?” I demanded. “Who did you tell?”

“I didn't tell anyone. I swear.”

She strode past me toward the window, and I heard the squealing of brakes. It was like a death knell. Shelby turned and looked me in the eye. “It's too late. They're here.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jasper said, his brow creased as he yanked his shorts up. “Who's they and why are they here?”

I didn't answer him. I couldn't. I ran out of the bedroom and headed for the back door, but I could see them through every window. Men in black, slowly approaching the house. I was surrounded. I stood in the kitchen, shaking, and brought my fists to my temples. Of course there was no escape. How had I ever thought I could get away with this? There was no possible way my mother would let me win. No way in hell.

There were heavy footsteps on the front porch. I slowly returned to the bedroom, where Jasper stood in his rumpled T-shirt and shorts, his hair matted on one side. I closed my eyes and braced myself for what was about to happen.