Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,112
band. And now they were after me too; they even implied that it was my fault, because I’d been the one who broke the band up and maybe if I hadn’t—”
“Bullshit!” I jumped up, and sat down next to him. “You know that’s not true. You know they only say things like that to sell papers and generate clicks.”
He didn’t look up at me. “Sure. I know. But still, it gets to you. I had to get away. So I came here. It was either here or a small town in America that is also a radio silent zone. But it snows there and as an Australian who hates the cold . . . it was here.”
“And your parents?” I asked. “Don’t they miss you?”
He shrugged. “I mean, I’m sure. But my sister is still there and they have three grandchildren who keep them busy and distracted, and they understood how much I needed to get away. Here, I can be myself. If people knew who I was, they would treat me differently, and it would start all over again. I needed anonymity.”
“Sounds familiar,” I said, crossing my legs uncomfortably.
“Did you also come here for that?” he asked.
“You could say I know a thing or two about people turning on you. I’ve also lived my life in the public eye, not nearly as much as you, though. I mean, tens of millions of people around the world know you, I’m only known by 350,000, so it’s not quite the same.” I looked up at him and our eyes met.
“But the same kind of experience,” he said.
“I guess. Who would have thought?”
“We’re both on the run,” he said with a small smile.
“Looks like it.”
“And we seemed to have run right into each other,” he continued.
I nodded. “With a little help from Harun.” I smiled at him as his eyes drew me in. I felt like my body was betraying me as it started to lean in. I think he was leaning too. He must have been, because suddenly I was sure his body was closer to me.
“Please,” he whispered, low and desperate. “Please don’t tell anyone who I am. Can you do that?”
I nodded. “I can.”
He smiled again at me, and I found myself smiling back. Falling into his smile in a way that felt warm and right.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Mark said, pulling away from the lean a little.
Come back, come back, I screamed in my head.
“Me too,” I said, even though I wanted to reach out and grab him by the shirt and demand he come closer again.
“Life is funny.” He folded his legs and sat up straight.
“It is. Although I’m not sure I totally understand its sense of humor.”
He looked at me and gave me that melt-in-my-seat smile again. How had I not known that smile? How had I not known that he was M.J.? Because now it was all I could see.
“You really signed your name with my surname attached to it?”
“Oh God.” I face-palmed. “Forget I said that. Please.”
He shook his head. “No way I can forget that.”
“Sorry, it’s so embarrassing.”
Mark got up and walked into the house. Moments later he came back and gave me a pen and piece of paper. “Show me.”
“No!” I pushed the pen away.
Mark laughed. “Come on. You can’t be as embarrassed as I am right now. You know how I used to dress.”
I laughed. “It was very fashionable back then, you know. I also had a pair of glasses with yellow lenses. I thought they were very cool.”
“Did you now?” He leaned in again, and my body immediately reacted to it. “Show me your signature.”
His voice and smell were pretty intoxicating and I found myself relenting. “Fine!” I signed my made-up signature that I’d signed so many times before and then handed it to him.
“I like how you put a heart above the ‘I,’ ” he said, looking very amused.
I nudged him. “Hey, don’t mock my little teenage heart!”
His smile faded a little and then he looked at me seriously. “I think it’s cute. I wish I’d known you back then.”
“No, you don’t. Trust me. I was nothing like I am now. I hated the person I was back then.”
He nodded at me. “I also hated the person I was back then.” His voice was soft and thoughtful. “That’s sad, isn’t it?”
I thought about it for a while. “It is sad,” I said.
“I’m actually glad someone knows who I am,” he said, catching me off guard.
“Why?”
“It’s hard keeping a secret