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Ch. 30: Don't Read The Comments

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The world seemed to stand still.

Finn stared at me, an awful look in his eyes, like I'd just cracked him open and ripped out his heart.

I immediately ended the call, even as Louise was saying something, but it was too late, far too fucking late.

"Who was that?" Finn said. His voice was steady, but it was a forced steadiness, like he was fighting hard not to show me what he was really feeling.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I couldn't lie to him, but I didn't know how to tell him that I'd been lying and hiding things from him this entire time.

"You said Louise. I can guess which fucking Louise, but I want to hear you say it," Finn said, and his voice wasn't as steady this time.

I'd forgotten that Finn would know who Louise was, but of course he would. Clash was the biggest music publication in the UK and Finn was one of the biggest rockstars in the world. He'd have encountered her name one way or another.

"Say it," Finn repeated. "Fucking say it."

I closed my eyes, feeling everything that we'd built crumbling to dust. "Louise Hoffman," I said.

"Louise Hoffman of Clash?" Even now it seemed like Finn couldn't quite believe that I'd done this.

Fresh tears stung my eyes, and I furiously blinked them away. I had no right to cry, not now. "Yes," I whispered.

Finn actually recoiled a little. "You're just like all the others, aren't you?" he said.

"No, Finn –"

"I trusted you." His voice rose over mine. "I trusted you more than I've trusted anyone in a very long time, and all this time you were gathering material for fucking stories on me."

I tried to speak but the words still wouldn't come.

"I came to find you just now because I was notified about these rumours about the woman who was living with me, and I was confused as hell because how could anyone know you were here?" Finn looked me up and down, his lip curling with sheer contempt. "Now I know. You sold the fucking story yourself."

"No," I cried, finding my voice. "Finn, that's not true. I had nothing to do with this. That's why Louise called –"

"Don't." Finn held up a hand. "I fucking heard enough. A new angle, Louise said. That means you two already had a fucking angle, and it wasn't that interview, was it?"

"Finn," I whispered, and a couple of tears escaped. "Please, just let me explain –"

"Fuck you." The quiet defeat in Finn's voice was worse than if he'd shouted. "We're done here, Tasha. I don't want anything more to fucking do with you."

There was nothing I could say, nothing I could to stop him from turning his back and walking away.

My knees suddenly buckled and I reached for something to steady myself, but nothing was within reach. I folded to the floor, my phone still clutched tight in my hand.

There was a shaky, shuddery feeling in my chest, a tightness in my lungs like I couldn't get enough air.

The last time Finn had got angry with me, when he'd caught me in his bedroom, I'd got angry right back, even though I'd been in the wrong.

Now I was so fucking far in the wrong that there was no room for anything but bitter, searing regret.

Realistically, as much as I'd never wanted to admit to myself, this thing with Finn could never have lasted, but it wasn't meant to end with Finn absolutely hating my fucking guts.

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by Bella_Higgin
@Bella_Higgin
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