He's Come Undone by Theresa Weir Read Free Book Online

fall, and the moment felt like something profound, something that made my heart swell. And then I remembered my deceit, and the beauty of the day dimmed.
    “So, have you been beating up any more drunks?” he asked, smiling at me in an almost shy way. Or was that part of his thing? This shy, kind of sweet guy? Was that an act? Were we both acting? Because the shy sweet guy didn’t match the creep I’d signed up to trick. The heart I’d signed up to break.
    I couldn’t do this. I had to stop. I had to tell the girls.
    “I have a confession to make,” I said.
    “Oh?”
    “I just started jogging.”
    “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re doing it. That’s the important thing. How many miles are you up to?”
    “Five blocks.”
    He burst out laughing. Like tossed his head back and let go. Then he looked at me with a smile and shake of his head. “I’ve never met anybody like you.”
    “You don’t even know me,” I pointed out.
    “I don’t know any female who’d jump on some guy’s back like you did the other night. And to rescue me.”
    “I just saw the need.”
    “That’s the thing. Most people would see the need and ignore the need. You never hesitated. You just dove in. That was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. And you even did it in a dress. They say you never really know someone until you see how they respond in a crisis. That told me pretty much everything I need to know about you right there in the space of a few seconds. And not only that-—” He pointed to my chest.
    “You like my boobs?”
    “No, well, maybe. Yeah, but I’m talking about Catcher in the Rye . You like it enough to wear a quote on your chest. I’m taking a class on Salinger right now. Love it. I’m thinking of writing my term paper on fame and how it destroys some people.”
    If he only knew.
    “Do you think that’s why Salinger became a recluse and never published another novel?” I asked. “I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Catcher in the Rye hadn’t done very well. Would he have published more books?”
    “I don’t know. Think about how different things were back then. No social media. No paparazzi, at least not the kind we have today. But at a time when people were used to a lot more privacy, he was put under a microscope. And not only that. Think about the praise that was lavished on him for years. For the rest of his life, really. How does a person cope with that? He vanishes.”
    I nodded. Fame was a hard and weird thing. And it was another thing to have fame taken away. To go from being the center of everything, to being the center of nothing. You get used to the praise until it’s almost an addiction, until you need it more than food. “I think he became a recluse because he was smart. He knew he needed to remove himself from the adoration because that’s abnormal.”
    “I think so too.”
    I suddenly realized it was getting late. I needed to get back to where I’d stashed my bike before hitting the trail. “I’ve gotta go,” I said, getting to my feet.
    “How’s the leg?”
    I looked at him blankly, then remembered and took a few test steps. “Seems to be fine.”
    “That’s good. Drink a lot of water when you get home.”
    “I’ll do that.”
    “I’d offer to give you a ride, but…” He smiled that smile again. “No car.”
    “That’s okay. Thanks.” I was walking away when he called after me. I stopped and turned.
    “Coffee? Sometime?”
    He was persistent, but I remembered the script. Play it cool. Play hard-to-get. “I don’t think so, Julian—that’s your name, right?”
    Small nod, mixed well with an expression of hope.
    “I just got out of a relationship,” I lied, “And I’m kind of enjoying my freedom.”
    “I don’t want to put you in a cage or anything. Just coffee.”
    “Thanks, but…” My words trailed off. I gave him a smile, then turned and walked in the opposite direction. A bit later, I glanced over my shoulder to see him