Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
This was bad. Very. Very bad.
That man was weaseling his way back into my life, and I was letting him like the pushover I was. It was no surprise. I let everyone walk all over me, so of course he’d be able to step right back into my heart like he owned the damned thing.
“It’s not that bad,” Emma said, lounging on the bed.
I’d pulled her inside and refused to let her leave after tonight’s elimination.
I needed to talk to someone. She’d checked behind her shoulder before hurrying inside.
It was almost like we were sneaking around.
Brady probably wouldn’t be that happy about it, but whatever.
Screw Brady. Screw this show. My emotions were real, and I was freaking out.
“Tell that to my heart. I’m about ready to pass out over here.”
“Breathe.” She demonstrated by pulling in a huge breath through her nose and shooting it out of her mouth.
I sucked in a few shallow breaths, practically hyperventilating, and paced the lofted bedroom.
“Great. Perfect. Exactly what I meant,” she said sarcastically. “You only have a few more days. Two more dates and the finale. You’re so close to being done.”
Finale. The word spun in my mind.
It was almost over.
“It’s getting so hard to fake it.” I sank into the bed, falling back so I stared straight up at the ceiling and sighed. “I should have sent Tripp home tonight.”
“What?” Her face wasn’t visible from this angle, but I could hear her disapproval. “And keep Grant? You weren’t actually interested in him, were you?”
“Of course not. But he knows that. He doesn’t expect anything. Tripp, on the other hand…” There it was winding its way in my stomach again. The guilt.
“Tripp clearly likes you, and you like him, too. He’s the obvious runner up.” She said it like she knew I’d already folded—that she knew Danny had me, the moment he bulldozed onto the show.
I grabbed a pillow and used it to hit myself in the face. “I don’t want to hurt Tripp when I know I can’t pick him! I was stupid for ever thinking an engagement was on the table.”
Emma plucked the pillow from my hands and tossed it back toward the headboard.
“Tripp understands that. Believe me. He might be hoping for a miracle, but he’s not a delusional optimist. He’ll be fine.” She sat up so that she could look back at me. “And who knows? If they do end up getting the greenlight to make another season, maybe he could lead it.”
“I thought it was supposed to be a c-list celebrity.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Ew. Did Brady say that? Screw him. Yes, the lead is supposed to be someone who’s known, but after this season, Tripp will be.”
Tripp being the next lead? Huh.
The idea of it made me feel a lot better. At least he might get something out of this. He’d been so genuine the entire time. He deserved a girl who was all about him.
“You really think there will be another season after this one?” I didn’t have the perspective the crew did. To me, all I saw was failure. But maybe that made for good TV.
She shrugged. “Ever since we announced you were the new lead, the show has been getting more buzz. I know Brady is expecting good ratings. That, paired with our see-through budget, is going to make the people up top very happy. I bet they’ll at least do a follow-up.”
“They? You won’t produce it?”
She groaned. “I hope not. But I’ll probably have to if Brady asks.”
I shifted my gaze from her to the ceiling where the fan was doing overtime.
As a kid, I could never sleep with the ceiling fan on, no matter how sticky and hot it was.
I had this irrational fear it would dislodge and crush me while I slept.
Now, I couldn’t take my eyes off the rapidly spinning blades. It was hypnotic.
My eyes quickly went dry from staring upwards in a zoned-out state.
“This doesn’t mean I’m picking Danny,” I whispered, blinking a few times.
Emma shifted on the bed. “You could always pick no one. This part is your call at the end of the day. Brady might pressure you into doing certain things, but he doesn’t have as much power as he wants you to think.”
“I can’t look stupid on TV again. That first break-up with Danny still haunts me, and now I’m setting myself up for a repeat. If I ever manage to release music again, people will be obsessed with examining my lyrics, always searching for Danny in them.”
She shrugged. “Who cares?”
“Who cares?” That had me jerking up to a seated position to gawk at her. “Everyone!”
She tucked a piece of her short hair behind her ear.
“They think they know you, but they don’t.
They pay for your concerts, and listen to the songs chosen for you by your label, and think there’s some kind of parasocial relationship there.
But they know nothing about you. So who cares if you look stupid?
Who cares if this results in some viral moment?
Do what you have to do. What you want to do.
If you can’t get Danny out of your head, then go for it. ”
I narrowed my eyes. “You realize that’s terrible advice.”
“Says who?”
“Says every friend in the history of girlfriends who’ve watched their friend’s heart get trampled on twice by the same guy, thinking he’d change!”
Her gaze shifted past me as she frowned.
“You know, I still think about my college boyfriend. Like, all the time. I know it isn’t healthy.
He didn’t step up when he should have. We had plans to move in together after we graduated, but he found a job in a different city an hour away.
He said it wasn’t a big deal and that we’d still see each other, but I broke up with him because I wanted to move forward.
“It wasn’t a clean break. I still drove out to visit him a few times.
And even to this day, when the relationship has been dead for years, I still can’t just switch off thinking about him.
What would it have been like if we were still together?
I romanticize it, y’know? But I can only pretend.
” She sighed and shook her head. “Maybe forgiving Danny is a mistake, but I’m a realist. And I know that if I were in your place—if the person I couldn’t stop thinking about was pining for me, trying to win me back—I’d give in. ”
I chewed on my lip. “You lost contact with your ex?” I asked, the romantic in me always rooting for a couple even if I had no clue what complex circumstances were involved.
“Yep. I remember the last time we spoke, so clearly,” she said. “He asked if he could come visit me and I just never answered. I still think about it.”
“You should reach out,” I offered.
“He’s married now.” She frowned and shook her head. “Which is exactly why I feel qualified to tell you, time is limited. You can’t waste any opportunity. Sometimes it’s not about being smart. They call it falling for a reason. You don’t have much choice.”
I crossed my arms, hating how much sense she was making. “I’d prefer not to get so banged up this time when I fall.”
She had a far-away look in her eyes and the corner of her mouth twitched. “Maybe this time, he’ll catch you.”