Chapter 13
13
Valerie
I forgot how much I love writing with Caleb.
By one a.m., we’re both hoarse from singing the same lines over and over, but it’s obvious we’re pleased with the progress on “Daydreams Like This” as we pack away guitars and notebooks until our next session. For a heartbeat, I wonder if he’ll crash on my bed like old times.
It really wasn’t sexual at first, the bed sharing. We’d work on songs until we were exhausted, so we’d fall asleep, so comfortable sharing a space that we didn’t give it that much thought. And then we were together and so tangled up in each other that we didn’t sleep apart for years, even though we kept our relationship as private as we could. We were always good at keeping secrets, even if people assumed they knew what was going on.
And sleeping next to each other always made sense. Even now, I probably wouldn’t stop him if he started to doze.
But he doesn’t. Ever the gentleman, Caleb treads sleepily into his own room once we’re finally done for the night. Because he was here for hours, the blankets are mussed from his spot at the foot of my bed, and I want to curl up in his phantom warmth.
Hurriedly, I smooth out the duvet, but Caleb’s presence in the room is still so palpable I can’t bear it. Every inch of my skin is buzzing with awareness, and the idea of sleep suddenly feels like nothing more than a distant possibility. As I brush my teeth, I can’t imagine how I’m supposed to just go to bed. I don’t know if I should eat a snack or get myself off or just take a fucking sleep aid, but I don’t do any of that.
Just like my therapist taught me, I make a list in my Notes app of everything on my mind:
working with Caleb again
finally talking about The Proposal
pretending I’m not still attracted to Caleb (because damn )
reuniting with the Glitter Bats and fixing those friendships
the fate of Epic Theme Song
hundreds of jobs on Epic Theme Song depending on my reputation
dealing with Label Records and their bullshit
the weirdness of Mom’s visit today
My mind tumbles as I stare at that last one, remembering what Wade said after rehearsal this afternoon. Mom sent the contracts to Ortega Management. I trust Wade’s legal team reviewing the contracts, but I don’t trust Tonya. If she had a chance to do something shady…well, I think she might have.
It’s just a feeling. But living with Mom taught me to never ignore my feelings.
Padding over the thick carpet to my bag, I pull out my laptop, then settle over at the desk. I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for, but I know where to start. Before I revealed I’d hired a real manager, I snuck into my mom’s home office and scanned all of her Glitter Bats records to the cloud. It’s not like seventeen-year-old me knew to keep track of my own legal documents, and by the time I wanted them a few years later, it was almost too late.
Mom acted so altruistic when she took care of everything. I just don’t want you kids to worry about the boring part. Just enjoy the fame! I had this strange hunch that she’d take it personally if I just asked for copies, even refuse to give me everything I needed.
Although I should never have had to outwit my own mother, that was just childhood at the Quinn house. She was so determined to show everyone how well she could raise me alone that she never actually did. I raised myself, with a little teenage guidance from Cameron Sloane when she was around, and the one thing I learned from Tonya was to always think ahead.
Good thing.
I pull up the digital storage, enter my password, and thank past Valerie for her efficiency. There are so many documents in this file, all those different contracts and press releases and financial statements without any recognizable organizational scheme. But I don’t care about the episode of Riverwood that featured “Midnight Road Trip,” or our first magazine shoot. I sort by date and there it is: the contract we signed before recording our first album, promising Label Records anything we produced for ten years.
For a moment, I think I’m seeing double.
My hand stills on the track pad. There are two of them. I blink, unable to make much sense of what’s on my screen. With different naming conventions, I didn’t notice the duplicate in my rush to copy everything and get out of the office unnoticed all those years ago.
It doesn’t add up. Why would Mom have two copies of the same document? Maybe it’s just her not being the greatest with technology, but…I doubt it. The contracts are long, and there’s no way I’m making any sense of them tonight, so I dash off an email to Wade with both files.
My heart pounds as I click send. There’s no way I can sleep now. Tonight’s as good of a time as any to check social media.
With a yawn, I pull on a hoodie, tuck up my legs, and dive in.
Wade would update me if there were positive changes on the Epic Theme Song front, but I scroll the tag anyway. My costar Lola Martinez just did a livestream, so most of the recent posts are about her. She’s promoting her new film, but fans ask her about playing Shadowgirl on Epic Theme Song , and there’s a nice sound bite I catch about my own side project: “Of course I heard about the Glitter Bats reunion—it’s super exciting! Valerie’s so talented—the whole band is—and I was a bit of a Glitterbug before I even worked with her. It’s going to be great to see them all together again.”
I send Lola a quick thank-you via DM, because she really didn’t even have to respond to that question. It was kind. We’re not super close, but we’re friendly. It certainly made the half a season we spent making out in front of the cameras more bearable. She smells good, she’s a respectful kisser, and she always has Altoids. Best partner for a romantic scene I’ve ever had on a set.
Not like Tyler Rowe, who tried to stick his tongue in my mouth without warning and got yelled at by our intimacy coordinator.
If we get renewed, I hope they write Tyler’s character off the show.
Despite all of my scrolling, I can’t find any clues that lead to the fate of Epic Theme Song . In the hashtag, though, my heart breaks at the determination of our fans:
Hey, Wonderfans! Let’s all stream #EpicThemeSong on repeat on July 30th to get it back in the top 10! The Network will have NO CHOICE but to #RenewETS. Tell your friends!
—56,192 likes —11,333 reposts
I JUST FINISHED #EpicThemeSong AND I NEED ANOTHER SEASON #RenewETS
—1,230 likes —428 reposts
#EpicThemeSong is the best show of all time and if @TheNetwork doesn’t #RenewETS I will show up at their corporate offices and demand an explanation. I’m not even joking.
—99 likes —12 reposts
HOW DO WE KNOW NOTHING ABOUT SEASON 3 of #EpicThemeSong YET?! #RenewETS YOU COWARDS @TheNetwork
—702 likes —258 reposts
My friend started a petition to #RenewETS so come on Wonderfans! If you want more #EpicThemeSong , help us get to 100,000 signatures!
—27,908 likes —8,992 reposts
Eyes stinging, I slam my laptop shut. They’re trying so hard, and it’s not enough. The fate of this show rests on my shoulders. Scrolling to watch them beg for something only I can give isn’t going to make any progress, but it’s sure as hell a good reminder of why I’m in this hotel.
I’ve been so distracted since we started rehearsing, but I need to focus on the prize: getting enough good press to renew this show. The fans deserve better than a fickle network and a messy lead.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shriek, way too loud this late at night. Sure enough, Caleb busts through the door connecting our two rooms that neither of us bothers to lock anymore. He’s shirtless, which is distracting enough without seeing his hair all rumpled from sleep. Because it’s two a.m. and I clearly woke him up with my outburst.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Please go back to sleep,” I say.
He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. Finally, he asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I just…couldn’t sleep, so I was torturing myself with social media.”
“Did that help?” he asks, his voice soft and rough.
I groan. “No.” I sink back against the chair and groan. “Ugh!”
Caleb blinks, obviously half-awake. “Want me to stay?”
Always , I think, and then I’m jolted back to reality. Starting this up again is a terrible idea. But god, why the hell not? It’s two a.m. What’s really going to happen?
Nothing.
Anything.
Everything .
Clearly I’m gaping, because he grins sleepily at me. “This would seriously be the weirdest booty call ever. I want to know if you want me to sleep with you. Literally. God, you know what I mean. We used to do this all the time.” His eyes widen, and I watch as the realization sets in. “And now by your deer-in-the-headlights look, I realize how inappropriate that suggestion was, so I’m going to go back and crawl into my own bed now and pretend this conversation never happened.”
He’s cute when he talks too much. It doesn’t happen often, because he’s usually so careful and reserved. But when he’s tired like this, I’m seeing past all of his walls.
“Honestly, I’d like it if you stayed. Being around you…it helps make all this feel somewhat normal,” I admit.
His lips twist. “Helps me too. Probably would never fess up to that in the morning, but here we are.”
I clear my throat, suddenly shy. “Right, well…I should probably wash my face.”
He nods. “I can set up the bed.”
Before I can tell him to forget all of it, I hurry over to the bathroom and stare at my greasy, day-old foundation in the mirror. As this impossibly long day hits me all over again, I scrub my face and moisturize, then brush my teeth again, forgoing a longer routine for the promise of sleep. When I get back to the room, Caleb is already in my bed like it’s no big deal.
Maybe it’s not.
As gently as possible, I slip into the sheets and turn off the lamp. I sink in next to him, letting that minty scent of his bodywash fill my lungs. For a moment, I don’t know how this is supposed to go—do I lie flat on my back? Shove a pillow between us? Surely he can hear my pulse thrumming in my ears, sense the heat of me between the sheets the way I can feel him.
“Want to stop freaking out and come cuddle?” he murmurs, touching my shoulder softly in a way that will guide me to him if I let it but isn’t forcing me to do anything. As always, he’s respecting my boundaries even without words.
But this isn’t a boundary I want to keep between us anymore. I’m craving the familiarity of his touch. Without it, I’ve been unmoored. Adrift on the sea of all the things I thought I wanted, floating helplessly on the things that pushed him away.
I need this.
So I let Caleb slip an arm around my waist and pull me to him, and I sink into the softness of his T-shirt. Because even though he’s exhausted, while I was getting ready to sleep, he grabbed a shirt. Probably to make me more comfortable.
I could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve Caleb Sloane.
Despite the T-shirt, my body remembers just how to fold into his. I know where my head fits on his shoulder, where my arm rests on his chest, where to hook my leg around his so I’m flush against his side but not on top of him. Maybe I’ve been touch starved, but I’m overcome with relief as the warmth of him envelops me. All at once, I remember what it was like to be in love with Caleb, falling into those thoughts like a dream.
Did those feelings ever go away?
My memories are like a photo album of emotions I’m revisiting one by one, but I can’t tell if they’re snapshots in time or places I can return to again and again. I’m too tired to decipher if it’s just all of this nostalgia getting the best of me. Or maybe he’s still got that soft, gentle grip on my heart, safe in his careful hands.
But maybe, just at two a.m. as I fall asleep, I can admit that my foolish heart never stopped wanting him.