Acting The Part

Chapter 12: Caleb

I pulled the car to a slow stop in front of Megan's building, my hands tightening on the steering wheel as I took in the sight of her place. I'd been to some shitty neighborhoods in my time, but this? This was something else.

The building looked like it hadn't seen maintenance in years—cracked concrete, graffiti plastered across the walls, and a broken street lamp flickering on the corner. There were a couple of guys hanging around the entrance, smoking, their eyes following the car as we pulled up.

And the building itself? Hell, it looked like a stiff breeze would knock it over.

I shifted in my seat, my jaw clenching as I tried to rein in the frustration bubbling up inside me. This was where she lived? This was where she came home every day?

No fucking way. How could my fiance live in this dump?

Megan unbuckled her seatbelt, glancing over at me with a small, tired smile. She looked calm, like this was just another day, like she didn't notice the crumbling mess she lived in. But I noticed. I noticed everything.

"I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," she said, her voice soft, as she reached for the door handle.

"Wait." I stopped her before she could get out, my voice sharper than I intended. Her hand froze on the handle, and she turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised.

"What?"

I stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what I needed to say without pissing her off. But I couldn't hold it back. I couldn't let her stay here. Not even for another night.

"You're moving out," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. Her eyes widened, and she blinked at me, clearly taken aback.

"What?" she asked, shaking her head like she hadn't heard me. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean it, Megan," I said, gesturing to the building in front of us. "This place is a fucking dump. You can't stay here. It's dangerous. You're moving out, and it better be tomorrow."

She stared at me for a moment, her expression shifting from confusion to anger. I could see the fire building in her eyes, and I knew I'd delivered it wrong. Shit.

"Excuse me?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "You think you can just tell me to move out of my home? Where do you get off?"

"This isn't a home!" I shot back, my voice rising in frustration. "Look at it, Megan. There are gangsters hanging around the entrance, the building looks like it's about to collapse, and you're telling me you're okay living here? It's not safe."

She shook her head, her brows furrowing in anger. "This is all I can afford, Caleb! I don't have the luxury of living in some fancy penthouse like you. This is what my money gets me, so don't you dare look down on me for it."

I clenched my jaw, trying to push down the frustration that was threatening to boil over. This wasn't about me looking down on her. This was about her safety. But I could see how she'd think that. Damn it, I should've worded it differently.

"I'm not looking down on you," I said, forcing myself to keep my voice calm. "I'm just... worried, okay? This place is dangerous. I don't want anything happening to you."

Her expression softened a little, but I could still see the tension in her stance, the way her arms were still crossed defensively. She sighed, shaking her head.

"I can't just move out, Caleb," she said, her voice quieter now. "I have a roommate. And even if I didn't, I don't have the money to rent a better place. You know where all my money goes."