“Believe what you want to believe,” Henry says, and something goes dead behind his eyes, jealousy or spite, I don’t know.
“I do,” I say. “I will. Marcus had no power; none of us do.”
I drop back for a moment, lean against the door, surveying him. I’d always loved the way Henry looked, from the first day I’d met him. There’d never been a lead on the 1 who ever looked like Henry, and so much the worse for it. He had a certain kind of slouchy, casual elegance, easy informal T-shirts paired with perfectly tailored jeans, and outlandishly expensive tennis shoes. Dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a slow, hard smile.
He looks at me wearily, then to his watch.
I wonder at the way Henry might hold on to someone, how he couldn’t, not really, even if he was. There’d always be a distance there, a distance between him and forever, and a distance between him and me.
It wasn’t even really that I was considering him; it was that I wondered if, in real life, he’d ever consider me.
“Henry,” I say, and I reach out for him, grab on to the front of his T-shirt, balling it into my hand and tugging him over to me, until our faces are inches apart, where our foreheads could touch, another moment of intimacy. “Now would’ve been the time to say, ‘Believe me, Jac.’”
“I don’t play losing games.” Henry’s voice is low, charged.
“That’s more my territory, isn’t it,” I say, waiting for Henry to go ahead of me and open the door.
Penultimate Episode of the 1 Season 31
[Shailene is sitting with Marcus in a modern-styled living room on a couch.]
Shailene, near tears: I don’t understand, Marcus. Why would you say that we slept together? And in front of [her voice drops] everyone.
Marcus: Don’t do this to me. Don’t you dare do this to me.
Shailene: How can I trust you? How can I trust you to keep intimate moments private? How can I trust you not to lie?
Marcus, with a sarcastic smile: So, now you’re calling me an untrustworthy liar?
Shailene, fully sobbing now: What we had was private. It was important to me that it was private.
Marcus: You’re being dishonest, Shailene. How can we ever move forward if we can’t be transparent about our intimacy? You’ve always known who I was.
[Marcus speaks to someone offscreen.]
Marcus: My stuff is already packed.
Shailene: Wait. Please wait.
[Marcus gets up from the couch and goes out to the balcony, overlooking a winter wonderland in Scotland. Momentarily, Shailene is crying too hard to get up. After she has somewhat collected herself, she looks to the same person off camera.]
Shailene: Can he do that? Can he just leave?
[No answer.]
[Marcus is outside, his head bent, staring out over the landscape.]
Marcus: I can’t believe this.
[He rubs his face, though no tears are on it. Shailene appears over his shoulder, slightly more collected, despite the mascara running down her face. She reaches for Marcus’s hand and he tenses.]
Shailene: Marcus, please. Let’s go back inside. Let’s talk about this.
[Marcus pulls his hand away from Shailene and goes to sit in a chair nearby. Face still buried.]
Marcus, voice choked: I never wanted this.
[Shailene kneels on the floor next to him, touching him slightly. She’s openly crying again.]
Shailene: Please. Please don’t leave.
Marcus: I don’t know if my dad is going to live through the next year, but he struggled through that to meet you. I left him, to be here, and all for what? For someone who can’t even give me honesty? Who can’t love me in a real way? In the way I need?
Shailene, sobbing: I can. I will. Please, let me try. Please stay. I’ll do better.
[Marcus looks up, shaking his head resolutely.]
Marcus: I wasn’t asking for that much.
Shailene: I’ll do whatever you need. I’ll figure it out, whatever you want. If this is really about physical intimacy . . .
Marcus, angry: It’s not about that. It’s about not even being allowed to have an open conversation about it.
Shailene: But we did. We did, didn’t we? Off camera? I thought we understood.
[Marcus gets up from the chair, going inside, leaving Shailene doubled over on the floor crying.]
15
