Cross The Line

CHAPTER FIVE

"First of all, I follow the news. Sometimes. When forced." She fights a smile. "And, secondly, you should be excited. Brush with death, and all. It's like you had dinner with Jeffrey Dahmer and walked away without becoming one of the entrees. You deserve some kind of medal." Her eyes narrow. "Or at the very least, several sessions with a renowned therapist."

"Thanks, Lila." I roll my eyes. "That's so helpful."

She cocks her head to one side. "Just because he orchestrated a kidnapping and tried to ruin his cousin's life doesn't necessarily mean he's a sociopath. Maybe he's just... emotionally damaged and in need of a good woman to straighten him out."

"Now who's the dim-witted one? Are you really falling for the damaged bad-boy trope?"

"You know I have a weakness for pretty boys with secret pain."

"Lila!"

"Shhh." She sips her margarita and examines me like a lab specimen. "This is the part where I dispense more sage wisdom."

"Honestly, I think I've had my fill."

"Too bad." She rubs her hands together. "You ready?"

"No."

"Okay, here it comes." She shuts her eyes and pulls in a deep breath, like she's about to execute a particularly difficult yoga position. Before I can flee, her eyes snap back open and she turns the full force of her stare on me. Her voice is intent, her glossy brown eyes pin me to the spot.

"You want Nathaniel Knox. You've wanted him for as long as I can remember. True or false?"

I don't answer.

"True or false?"

"You're really going to make me say it?"

Her eyes narrow.

"Fine," I mumble noncommittally. "True. Whatever."

"That's what I thought." She smiles. "You've spent the better part of your life either gaga in love with the guy or out-of-your-gourd pissed at him for not loving you back. You can't get over him. You don't want to get over him. You won't even try to get over him. Frankly, it's a little pathetic."

"That's not true," I protest. "I want to get over him."

Lila's face contorts in a skeptical look. "Uh huh."

"Lila, I'm serious. I don't want to keep living like this — stuck in limbo, wanting a man who'll never love me back. Frankly, I hate him for doing this to me for so long, for reducing me to this weak little girl every time he's around. He walks back into my life and suddenly I'm fourteen again, gawky and awkward and unsure." I swallow. "I don't want to be that person. I'm not that person."

"I know you aren't, hon." Lila's face is suddenly concerned. "Why didn't you tell me you've been feeling like this?"

I shrug. "It makes me feel weak. He makes me feel weak. Why would I want to talk about that? Love is supposed to lift you up, not tear you back to your humiliating, orthodontic middle school years." I take a large sip. "I hate him. Officially."

She sighs. "Phoebe, I hate to break this to you, but hating someone and being over them are not the same thing."

Damn. I knew she was going to say that.

"You either spend all your time thinking about how much you love him, or all your time mulling over how much you hate him. Either way, he takes up all your mental energy. That's not healthy, hon. When you're over someone, you don't think about them. Period. Like my first boyfriend, Eric Sanders, who turned out to be gay and broke my heart in seventh grade. I don't think about him at all. And my second boyfriend, Bill Nelson—"