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  “So,” I say, drawing out the vowel for full effect. “I hear you think you can act.”

  And laugh in her face.

  The stunned, furious look she gives me is more than enough reward. I turn my back on her and, still laughing, walk away.

  Maybe it was cruel. But she had it coming.

  Funny, my revenge taken, I suddenly don’t feel like being around all these people anymore. The night seems complete—or close to it. There’s one more thing I want to do. I just don’t know if I have the courage to do it.

  I’m on my way to the door, looking for my shoes. Planning what I’m going to say to him. How I’m going to make things right between us.

  Knowing I’ll be okay even if I can’t, but hoping there’s still a place for me in his heart.

  So intent on my purpose, I almost run into Miller.

  It’s hard not to jerk back, to stare at him. Is my imagination working again? Or is he really here? He watches me, hesitant, as though he’s ready to run. The moment I pull away, he starts to turn, but I grab him, partly to stop him and partly just to touch him so I know he’s real.

  The moment my fingers latch onto his shirt sleeve, my insides tighten. Not make believe.

  I don’t hesitate, drag him back down the hall, through the press of people, and into the bathroom.

  Slam the door shut behind us, leaning against it, breath coming shallow, too quick.

  I turn to stare up into his eyes with a million words waiting to be spoken.

  Neither of us says a word, not even when someone pounds on the door, telling us to hurry up.

  Miller and I both speak at exactly the same moment.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “It’s all my fault—”

  We both lurch to a halt. Laugh together, quiet, low.

  “You came to the show.” I know the answer. I don’t have to see the little smile lifting his sad mouth.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” he says. “You were everything I knew you could be. More. You were truly incredible.”

  I swallow hard past the lump in my throat and the burning sensation racing over my skin. I want him to touch me. I need to throw my arms around him. But I can’t yet.

  Not until we heal this jagged tear between us.

  “Riley,” he says, taking the first step before I can. “I’m such a jerk.”

  “Miller,” I say. “I’m such a bitch.”

  Tears trickle from my eyes, though I’m laughing and he’s laughing, too.

  I lean in, kiss his cheek, the same one I slapped. “I didn’t think you’d forgive me for what I did.”

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t think you would, either.” His hesitation makes my breath quiver. “She just wanted to hurt you,” he said. “And I let her.”

  More laughter as I shake off my tears. “You helped me,” I said. “You loved me when I didn’t know what I needed. And you loved her, no matter what she did.” If only I deserved the kind of loyalty he showed Bianca.

  The kind, I suppose, I showed Ian.

  Miller grabs me, pulls me against him. “I love you, Riley,” he says. “I never thought I would love anyone but her. Until I met you. I finally understood it’s not really love when the other person just wants to use you and throw you away.”

  I nod, stroke his jaw with my fingertips. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” I say. “I have no idea what’s coming, but I promise I’ll do everything I can to never hurt you again.”

  Tears rise in his eyes, fall down his cheeks, one landing on the back of my hand. I kiss him gently, feel his body shake. I hug him, pressing my nose into his neck.

  “I love you, too, Miller Hill,” I say.

  Who would have thought, after how long my imagination sustained me, that reality is so much better than anything I could make up.

  “I need to tell you so much,” Miller whispers.

  I lean back, wink at him, hands sliding into his hair, hip leaning into his leg. “We’re actors, silly,” I say. “No more telling.” Roll my eyes for dramatic effect. “Surely you can do better than that.”

  Miller’s eyes sparkle as he bends and presses his lips to mine.

  And does his very best to show me exactly how he feels.

  ###

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  Patti Larsen. Purely Paranormal.