Chapter 32
Lila
The lights in my apartment were off, but there was nowhere to hide from any of it.
I sat in my old chair, legs curled beneath me.
The silence was punctuated only by the intermittent buzzing of my phone, notifications lighting up again and again, daring me to confirm the damage. The Epic Fail Girl was back.
I let it buzz and chirp, the alerts creeping through the stillness, each one twisting the shame a little deeper.
Omg is this the same girl from the hockey game???
Someone tell @MasonCallahan his new gf is #EpicFailGirl!!!
DEAD. That spanx reveal will never not be funny
I didn’t have to read a word to know what they were saying. I was intimately familiar with it all. The shares and the mockery. The GIFs and the remixes. The cruel comments that picked apart every second of my humiliation.
The video was burned into my memory. I could relive each cringeworthy second as if it were playing on loop in my head, right through to the confetti cannon.
God, the confetti cannon.
Whoever had hit that button in a panic had sealed the disaster. A fallen beauty queen, legs akimbo, ridiculous underwear on display, being licked by a stray dog while confetti rained down. The perfect storm of embarrassment preserved forever in high definition.
What was I thinking? I should’ve known better. Going to that hockey game was a mistake.
The memory of those girls at Mason’s game shoved itself front and center, the sting fresh enough to taste. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head, scolding me. “You made a spectacle of yourself, Delilah Mae.”
And it wasn’t just her. My friends. My clients at Samantha Grace Interiors.
Had they seen it yet? Were they connecting the poised, professional Lila Prescott with that sprawled, humiliated girl?
How long before someone sent the link to Sam?
Would she still want me representing her company when clients could Google me and find… that?
And Mason.
How could I ever face him again? It was only a matter of time before he saw the video. Was he laughing about it with his teammates right now? Were they passing phones around the locker room, howling at my expense? Check out Callahan’s new girl. Guess he’s into clowns now.
My friends had mocked me. My brothers. My classmates. Even one of my teachers. I was nothing more than a viral joke.
My mother didn’t laugh. She was too ashamed.
A sob caught in my throat, and I curled further into myself, wishing for a moment to escape. Why had I ever thought I could have someone like Mason? Someone whose life was lived in the public eye, whose every move was dissected by fans and media alike?
I crossed my arms tightly around myself, as if pressure could hold me together. No one really cared about me. They only cared about the spectacle. They’d remember the fall, the spanx, the punchline. That’s all I’d ever be to them.
“This is who you are,” I whispered to myself, the words tasting bitter. “Epic Fail Girl.”
I was a fool to think I could outrun it. A fool to think I deserved more.
Another sob escaped, and this time I didn’t try to hold it back. In the darkness of my apartment, I finally let the tears come, feeling small and insignificant and utterly exposed.
The knock startled me from my spiral. Three firm, measured taps that could only belong to one person.
I froze, wiping at my tear-stained cheeks. Maybe if I stayed quiet, he’d think I wasn’t home. Maybe he’d leave and I could let numbness take over in private.
The second round of knocking shattered that hope.
“Lila?” Mason’s voice carried through the door, quiet but unmistakable. “I know you’re in there. Please open up.”
I didn’t move, my heart hammering in my chest. How could I face him knowing what he’d seen? The memory of those banana-printed spanx flashed through my mind, and bile rose hot in my throat.
“I’m tired, Mason. I don’t want any company right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he called, his voice lowering but no less determined. “I’ll wait out here all night if I have to.”
I tucked my chin to my knees, torn between the instinct to shut down and the ache for Mason’s arms around me. To have someone tell me this nightmare would pass.
A soft thud suggested he’d leaned his forehead against my door. “Lila, please. Just let me in so I can see that you’re okay. Then I’ll go if you want me to.”
We both knew he was lying. Mason wasn’t the type to walk away when he thought someone needed him.
With a resigned sigh, I uncurled from the armchair. My stiff muscles protested after hours of being folded in on myself. I shuffled to the door, not bothering to turn on any lights. Let the shadows hide the worst of my red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face.
I opened the door a crack, keeping the chain latched. Mason’s face filled the narrow opening. His blue eyes searched mine, the worry etched across his features.
“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”
I hesitated. My hair was a mess, my face a disaster. Not exactly how I wanted Mason to see me. “I’m not really in a state for visitors.”
“I know this is hard, Lila.” His hand settled on the doorframe. “But I’m not leaving. I’m here for you.”
Something in his tone, the certainty of it, made my eyes sting again. I blinked hard. “It’s been a long day. I just want to be alone right now.”
“No, you don’t.” His voice stayed level. “Nobody wants to be alone when they’re hurting.”
The way he said it nearly broke me. I pressed my lips together, fighting the quiver that threatened to give away how close I was to crumbling.
Part of me wanted to throw open the door and collapse into his arms, to let him absorb some of the panic and shame suffocating me. But another part, the part that had spent five years rebuilding and protecting myself, screamed at me to keep him out. To protect what little dignity I had left.
“I saw it, Lila.”
I couldn’t breathe. I could only stare at him through the crack in the door.
“What?” I forced out, even though I knew.
“That clip.” No smirk. Just concern. “I’m not gonna lie. I watched it. But it doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you.”
I felt lightheaded suddenly, the hallway seeming to tilt around Mason’s face. “Gideon showed you. I told him to give me some time.”
“Gideon cares about you, and he was concerned,” Mason said, calm. “I was going to come across it eventually. I did, and I’m still right here. With you. I’m not going to let a stupid meme get in the way of what we have.”
“What we have,” I echoed, hollow. “What exactly is that, Mason? A few weeks of dates? Some good sex? Is that worth becoming tabloid fodder?”
The words were cruel. Part of me hoped he would flinch. To retreat. To see the impossibility of us. But he only looked at me, like he’d already decided.
“What we have,” he said, deliberate, “is something real. Something honest. At least, it was for me.”
I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, any hint that he was saying what he thought I needed to hear.
But all I found was that same unwavering steadiness that had drawn me to him from the start.
I pressed my shoulder against the door, suddenly too tired to hold the wall between us.
“I didn’t want you to see that side of me,” I admitted, barely getting it out.
“What side? The human one?” Mason didn’t budge. “The side that had something embarrassing happen and handled it with more grace than most people could manage?”
I looked up, startled. “Grace? I fell on my ass with my banana spanx showing while a dog peed on me and confetti rained down. Where exactly was the grace in that?”
A hint of a smile touched Mason’s mouth. “The grace was in getting up afterward. In rebuilding your life.”
Something warm unfurled in my chest, a dangerous flicker of hope. I wanted so badly to believe him, to believe he could see past the punchline to the person I’d become. But years of protecting myself made trust feel like a risk.
“I’m embarrassed,” I whispered, finally admitting the truth that had been choking me all night. “That you saw it. That the whole world has.”
“I know.” No hesitation. No pity. Just him. “But you don’t have to feel that way with me, Lila. Not ever.”
We stood there, separated by the door chain. The silence between us wasn’t strained anymore. It was intimate. I studied his face, the earnest blue eyes, the worried furrow between his brows, the stubborn set of his jaw, and felt something inside me begin to crack.
Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the raw sincerity in his expression. Or maybe I’d been holding myself together for so long that I couldn’t do it anymore.
Whatever the reason, I unlatched the chain and opened the door wider.
The darkness swallowed us both as Mason stepped inside. I reached for the nearest lamp, bracing myself as warm light flooded the room.
Mason settled into the worn-out chair opposite me and the space between us turned charged and quiet. He leaned back, shoulders easing, like he could wait forever. I stayed wound tight, afraid that if I loosened my grip for even a second, everything I’d been holding in would spill out.
“So,” I said, aiming for casual and failing miserably. “You watched it.”
Mason nodded, unfazed. “Yeah. I did.”
“And…?” I couldn’t help asking, bracing myself for whatever platitude he might offer.
“And nothing,” he said simply. “It doesn’t change a damn thing for me, Lila.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s easy to say, but we both know it’s not true. Once you see something like that, you can’t unsee it. Every time you’re with me now, part of you is going to remember me sprawled on that stage, the dog pee, the explosion of confetti.”
Mason’s lips twitched, and I glared at him. “It’s not funny.”
“I’m not laughing at what happened,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “You have to admit, the confetti was overkill.”
I hated that it worked, but my mouth betrayed me with the faintest smile. “The universe has a sick sense of humor.”