The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara
Forty-Seven
“You hate me? Good to know,” he says eventually. “That’s fine with me, but I brought you here so I still have to get you back to Carmel.” Can this day get any worse?
“Let’s go,” he says, his tone curt. He starts walking toward the parking lot, and I follow. I messed up big time, and honestly, I don’t know if there’s any way to recover from this.
I look out the car window and don’t say a word. What could I possibly say anyway?
We’re halfway back when he turns his eyes to me for a moment, then back to the road.
“I’m sorry. What happened was a mistake. I understand there’s someone else—”
He continues driving in silence for a few minutes.
I don’t know what to say.
“Why did you do that, Ethan? Who were those people?”
“The main character in my upcoming novel is Maya June,” he says. “Cameron is a senior VP at my publishing house. They’ve been trying to get me to reveal who Max and Maya are for months, to use it as a publicity play because my stories are inspired by real life. When they saw us together, and I introduced you as Maya, they just assumed—”
“What? What did they assume?” I gasp. “That I’m Maya from the book. Wait, but we kissed; what will they think?”
He shrugs. “Who cares?”
“I care,” I bellow. “This will be all over the internet, won’t it? I should go back and find the photographer. I’ll pay him to not give anyone the pictures. Let’s just go back.”
“I already talked to Cameron,” he says. “I told him I didn’t want him to publish them.”
“And?”
“He said he’ll see what he can do but gave me no guarantees.”
My mind is racing.
“Who is he? You have to tell me who I need to talk to. I need to explain.”
“Who’s who?”
“Max!”
“Why? Why do you want to know?”
“Because I am Maya from your story. Isn’t that why you named her that? Because he told you my real name?”
He stares ahead.
“Ethan, you don’t seem surprised. Why are you not surprised?”
I feel a chill all over my body. “Did you already know it was me?”
“How could I?” he asks, eyes on the road.
“If you knew, that makes you the worst friend in the history of mankind. I feel sorry for Max. And if you didn’t, you just used a random person who happened to have the same name as your character… for what? To sell more books? You asked me to go with you today, so they’d see us together. You kissed me in front of them to give them ‘material’. Are you kidding me? Who gives you the right? Isn’t it enough that you wrote my story without asking if I wanted it out there? I wrote it first and my manuscript will never see the light of day because of you.”
“I didn’t steal anything,” he says. “And who’s stopping you from submitting yours?”
“What’s the point? Who would want to read the same thing all over again?” I ask.
“There are always two sides to every story.”
“This is not even about my manuscript. And, yes, there are two sides to every story. Two, not three. Yours wasn’t one of them. It was mine and his. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to up it and drag me into this mess. Lie to me. Use me.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing too, Maya? Using people? Celine, me?”
Tears roll down my cheeks. “Just tell me who he is. Have the decency to at least do that.”
“I don’t understand why you want to know who Max is. Why you keep insisting. If you hadn’t heard about my novel, you wouldn’t have returned to Carmel. You obviously didn’t come back for him, or you would’ve done it a long time ago, or better yet… never left in the first place. You’ve obviously moved on, if you ever even stopped. If that day even meant anything to you. Well, it meant something to him. A lot. Why do this and put him through it again?”
His nostrils are flaring, and I’m staring in shock at him. He’s so angry.
“I’m putting him through stuff? Look in the mirror. You are the reason photos of us kissing might be all over the media soon. I’m putting him through stuff? You have the nerve.”
“I know him better than you do. He’s moved on from you. He wouldn’t care.”
I feel tears pooling in my eyes.
“What is it that you want? Why are you even here? You want royalties too? I gave you publicity. Isn’t that what you were after? All you seem interested in is your writing. This should help. So why put on this ‘I’m a victim’ show? It’s not like anyone forced you to kiss me; you did it, and you did it on camera. What did you expect?” he asks.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”
“Of course not, because you have no answer. That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it? Fame. There, you have it. Enjoy! Just keep him out of it. He deserves better.”
“Why are you so cruel? You don’t even know me. Just because you wrote the story, you don’t get to pass judgments on what he or I deserve. And any reasons I have to find Max are mine and mine alone. I’m not discussing them with a middleman who’s set on ruining my life.”
“Ruining your life? I never meant to ruin anything,” he says, his voice calmer now.
“I find that hard to believe. So you’re not going to tell me his name? This is it?”
“Even if I did, I doubt he’d want to talk to you.”
“It’s not your decision to make.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not yours either.”
“Fine. Ask him then. See what he says. Does he even know I’m here?”
Ethan stares at the road, a frown on his face.
“Does he?” I push. “Ask him. After everything that happened, you owe me this much.”
“Do I?” His tone is mocking now. Sarcastic.
Pushing my buttons. Driving me crazy. He’s the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.
“Stop the car,” I demand.
“We’re on the highway; I can’t stop the car.”
“I want to get out.”
I’m boiling inside. Boiling.
“I’ll shut up if the sound of my voice is getting you this worked up.”
“I need to be by myself, and I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t like fighting.”
“You’re very good at it. You could’ve fooled me.”
He takes an exit for San Jose and drops me off in front of a Starbucks.
I get out without a word. Why is he not leaving? I want him to leave. But he doesn’t.