Page 154 of Let's Kiss and Tell

“Then we don’t say anything.” Marsh takes a step closer. “We’ll wait until after your promotion.”

“You know we couldn’t be together even afterward.” I look at him. He knows as much as I do that it putsbothof our jobs at risk. I don’t even need to tell him about Shanna and Sam. Marsh has been working in this industry long enough that he knows what’s on the line. “And that’s beside the point.” I let go of his hands.

“Then what’s the point, Lucy?” Marsh says. He waits for me to answer but I don’t know how to answer his question. “I’m not buying it’s because of a promotion. Because if you really cared aboutwhat we should and shouldn’t do, you wouldn’t have asked me to help you with your stories in the first place. We’vealwaysworked together.”

“It was different then.” I feel a break in my voice.

“How?” he says, and I stare back at him wide-eyed. I don’t want the conversation to go here but he’s forcing it to.

“It just was,” I say.

“How?” he insists. “Tell me.”

“Because I was using you, Marsh,” I force out, but he just shakes his head. “Because you were new and you werenice,and I knew that I could convince you to help me and that nobody would ever find out because once I finished my stories, we would never talk to each other ever again, okay?”

“I don’t believe you,” he says.

“Marsh, look at me.” I open my arms out, half shouting. “I’m jaded, I’m messy, I have commitment issues. Who are we kidding? This would never last. I would find a reason to run…You would find a reason to hate me.”

“Is that what you really believe? Or is that what years of assholes you’ve dated tell you?” Marsh says. “Because I don’t see someone that’s jaded, or all those things you said. I see someone that sits with my niece and asks her about all her dolls. I see someone that goes on a Ferris wheel even if they’re afraid of heights because they want me to experience it. I see someone that believes I deserve good things even though I probably don’t.”

“Marsh, please.” I shut my eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” Marsh repeats and I see the tops of his cheeks redden. “I wantyou.I didn’t think I could, or that I was capable of—” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want this to end, Lucy. I want to give this a shot.Reallybe with you. And I know you want to be with me. You’re just making up excuses,” he says. “You’re scared and that’s okay—”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” I say. Suddenly, I’m a teenager again and my mom is telling me that I’m overreacting. My dad is telling me I don’t understand. Like I’m some naïve child who doesn’t realize the weight of their father having a whole other family behind their back. That how I think I feel isn’t actually how I feel. “Don’t act like you know exactly what’s going on in my head.”

“I’m sorry.” Marsh draws back. “You’re right, I don’t know.”

“I don’t want to love anyone because I don’tneedto love anyone,” I say. “I don’tneedanyone to love me either.”

“Why?” Marsh looks at me. “Why are you so against needing someone? Being in love doesn’t take away your independence.”

His words only strengthen my resolve.

“You know what, Marsh?” I rasp. “I thinkyou’rethe one that’s scared. Not me.”

He stops short. “Excuse me?”

“Whatare you even doing?” I finally say. It’s something I’ve wanted to ask him since the day I met him. “When I watch you work, you’re one of the most confident and self-assured people I know. Yet, when it comes to your personal life, you’re so scared of having people look at you like someone that’s pathetic,” I say, the words falling out of my mouth. “You’re so scared of ruining this stoic persona that you’ve managed to portray to everyone that you can’t even bear the thought of showing up to this wedding without a date. You aren’t attending this wedding to be the bigger person; you’re attending this wedding because you’re terrified to show people that you’re now alone. In fact, you’re sodesperateto show people that you’re okay, you took the first offer that came your way.”

“Lucy,” he responds, his voice lowering, “you’re not thinking.”

“No, you’re the one that’s not thinking, Marsh,” I say, my mouth running a hundred miles a minute, a distaste to my tonenow. “I don’t need any of this.” I look around the garden, the party in the distance. “You’re the one that can’t even tell his own family what happened. You can’t even defend yourself to someone that cheated on you, because you’re a coward.”

My thoughts are coming out fast, hot, and hurtful. I can sense in Marsh’s eyes that my words have found their way under his skin, penetrating and sticking.

“I’mthe coward?” he spits back in disbelief. “You’re the one that neededmeto write a few stories about being in a relationship, Lucy. I know what you’re capable of, and the stories you’ve published over the past few weeks were fluff pieces. You’re so scared to open yourself up to someone that the only way you can justify getting close to another person is by telling yourself it’s fake. I thinkyou’rethe one that has built this cold shell around themselves and are afraid to let people see the real you,” he says, and I look away in refusal. “You tell people that you’re so against falling in love, but I think you’re the biggest believer of them all. Otherwise, why would you feel so strongly about letting someone in? You think protecting yourself will keep you from getting hurt? All that’s going to do is push away the people that really care about you. It’s like you’re so mad at what happened with your parents you think cutting yourself off from a relationship will somehow make up for what happened. All that’s going to do is leave you alone and miserable.”

“Fuck you,” I say instinctively. My vision begins to blur behind the tears that I’m fighting back. I don’t know if I say the words to him because I hate what he said or because I believe it.

“You tell everyone you’re so open and sex positive,” Marsh adds. “You make people think you’re this open book, but being open is different than being vulnerable. And having sex with as many people as you want is different than being intimate. You keep using the excuse that you’re asex writerfor why people treatyou differently. I think you use that title as a shield…to keep people away.”

“I am the way I am because I’m not romanticizing my life,” I respond, raising my voice.

“And you think I am?” he says incredulously.

“I live in the reality where relationships are just two people who don’t want to do life alone. You know what that turns into? Resentment,” I say. “Cheating. Fights. Wondering ‘what if ?’ when you’re one day feeling stuck with the life you chose. So yeah, maybe I live my life pretending to be strong and close myself off,” I admit. “But I read your stories too, Marsh. You write about news because you’re afraid to tell people your own opinion. You don’t know how to write about yourself, so you write about other people. At leastIhave a voice.”