Chapter 1 #2
“You’re nineteen.” She arches an eyebrow. “No fillers. No veneers. No fake boobs. Your contract doesn’t allow it. You can do Botox, but personally I’d wait. You do frown a lot, but you can just learn to move your face less. We can run it by your coach—”
“Chill. I wasn’t planning to.” I nudge her playfully. Marissa cares, but sometimes she cares too much. Her hazel eyes look like melted caramel, but there’s a sharpness to her gaze when it hardens, like she’s about to cut you open.
“I have them,” she says. “Veneers.”
“Are your teeth all right?” I turn to look at her.
Her pale cheeks are colored pink by the night breeze sneaking in through the window as she flashes a practiced grin.
I’ve never noticed, because they look so natural, and Marissa’s smile is so effortless.
But if you look close enough, there’s an unnatural shine about them, like they’re too symmetrical, too perfect. “Man, everything is an illusion.”
Marissa studies me, as if she’s worried about my mental health.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m just sleep-deprived.
” I shift my gaze out the window and unbuckle my seatbelt when she pulls up to my house.
It’s not a lie. I’ve been sleep-deprived since I signed the record deal.
Every day it’s been go-go-go. Which is fine; I’m a go-go-go person, too, when it comes to doing what I love, but it’s catching up to me.
The past few months have been a series of trips for music videos and press events.
This is the first time I’ve been home for more than a few days since the album released, which is weird.
The last time I actually lived here, I wasn’t even famous.
As Marissa parks in front of my driveway, I take a good look at my house, making sure that it hadn’t changed in some way while I was gone.
The outside is weathered and in need of paint, but I like how it adds a homey vibe, as if letting you know it’s been lived in.
My sister’s bike is strapped to the porch, and a bunch of heat-resistant plants add a splash of color.
Through the kitchen window, the faded yellow curtains with duck prints have lost their luster, but Mom would never replace them because it was the first thing she and Mamá bought for the house.
“Want me to come in?” Marissa asks when I don’t show any signs of vacating her car. “I know your moms aren’t back from their trip yet. We can rehearse your speech for tomorrow and keep watching that show we started on the plane.”
“I’m okay.” I’m not, though. I hate the fact that my house is the only one without any lights on inside.
Marissa says I should look into buying a bigger place in a better neighborhood, but I’ve been putting it off.
Humans are the heart of a house. To leave this place would be like ripping out its heart.
Marissa kills the engine and steps out. I give her a look when she unearths the spare key from one of the cactus pots. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you eat dinner and brush your veneer-less teeth.” She opens the door and motions for me to get in. “It’s my job as your manager, so come on. Dinnertime.”
How she knows where the spare key is, I don’t know.
She pretty much knows everything about me, even though I don’t know much about her, except that she’s sort of corporate America–coded, and she decided to become a manager after serving as her sorority’s president.
When my label introduced me to her, I wasn’t sure we were going to vibe at all, but I can’t deny she’s good at what she does.
She’s taught me so much about this industry that I don’t think I could have survived the last year without her.
She’s like my guardian angel, if guardian angels had two smartphones and a caffeine addiction.
A few months ago, this famous YouTuber wouldn’t leave me alone at a party, so I punched him when he tried to put his hands on me.
Marissa showed up ten minutes after I panic-called her and threatened to have him blacklisted if he so much as sent me a DM again.
Inside the house, the living room feels frozen in time.
The couch is a mess of blankets because everyone in my family gets cold while watching movies, and the kitchen is spotless but littered with electronics—the noisy toaster, an air fryer we’ve never used, and Sonia’s school laptop that she always leaves in the most random places.
The faint smell of something sweet still lingers in the air, enveloping me like a ghost hug.
It’s home. It just feels empty without them.
“Are they having fun in Spain?” Marissa asks. She doesn’t take off her shoes when she comes in, and I’m too tired to nag her. I guess this makes me a people pleaser, and I hate it, but no matter how hard I try, I don’t know how to be anything but nice.
“Yeah. They should be back home soon.” I show her the picture Mom sent me this morning. She, Mamá, and Sonia are currently visiting la Alhambra de Granada, standing in front of a dazzling palace as they smile at the camera.
Mamá grew up in Spain—she’s from León, but she lived in Málaga during middle school and high school before moving to the US.
She and Mom have taken Sonia and me to visit a few times over the years.
We didn’t have the chance to travel much growing up, so now that I can afford it, I want to spoil them as much as I can.
This trip was my idea, actually. Mamá hadn’t seen her childhood friends in a long time, and I wanted to surprise her.
I would have come with them had it not been for the Grammy nominations.
Suddenly it became really important for my label that I film a music video, and before I knew it, I had multiple talk shows and interviews lined up.
I didn’t want my family to miss the trip, so I told them to go without me this time.
We can always travel together some other time.
It’s not a big deal.
Really, it’s not. It comes with the job.
Doesn’t mean I’m not sad, though.
“Are we cooking or are we ordering?” Marissa plops down on the couch and turns on the TV.
“I could go for some pizza.” The tightness in my chest eases a little. At least she’s here.
I muster the will to take a shower while Marissa orders food, allowing the water to wash the exhaustion off my body.
I’m halfway through putting on some lotion and moisturizing when I see three missed calls from Mia, and I remember that I promised her we’d FaceTime today.
But I’m so tired from doing press that I don’t think I can manage more than monosyllabic responses, so I collapse onto my bed like a corpse in a murder scene and shoot her a text.
ME
i’m officially deceased. a zombie. raincheck?
MIA
oh, okay. don’t worry! was gonna text you to reschedule anyway.
Oh. I guess I don’t need to feel guilty then. We’re both busy these days.
MIA
you’ll never guess what happened today
ME
did you trip while carrying poop samples at the lab again?
MIA
AHHH. Sash. don’t remind me. it was an accident.
I wait for Mia to send another message and tell me about her day, but she’s a caller, not a texter, and after five minutes I realize she must have gone away and forgotten.
A breeze slips through the window, brushing against my skin, and jolts me back to reality. I should dry my hair and do my skin care, but it’s too late. I made the mistake of grabbing my phone, and now I’m melting into the bed, sucked into a black hole where I’m unable to do anything but scroll.
I hate this. I just have to get up and meet Marissa in the living room, but I’m too exhausted. I think about calling my moms, but they’re probably still asleep.
Instead, I search the veneer question (they have pores, so I guess your teeth don’t decay) before inevitably going to my social media.
My new music video comes out in a few weeks and people are counting down the minutes until its release.
They think it’ll contain clues about the boyfriend’s identity, and my current relationship status.
I don’t like reading these, but I always cave.
Even though I know it’s not good for me, I just have to know what they’re saying.
@sassysnailpolish she must be the one who broke up with him. in midnight moonlight, sassy mentions she made a difficult choice and left someone behind. that means she initiated the breakup.
Yeah, no, “Midnight Moonlight” was inspired by the journey of a character I like.
@sassyseyelash and they didn’t get along at all at some point … like, the lyrics “tell me, was this fate or war? I go to sleep and I’m still chasing dreams through bloodstained streets.” HELLO? Enemies to lovers.
Yeah … that one’s about a fantasy book.
Sometimes I feel like my fans are treasure hunting, although I’m not sure what the prize is if they figure it out.
If they figure me out.
It’s like we’re friends, in some weird, parasocial way. Whenever I feel alone, I remind myself that there are thousands of people who like me, just a click away. Their love echoes so loudly it reaches me through the screen … even when it feels a little smothering.
I used to reply to every comment under my videos, until it became impossible.
Now my label has to approve what I post, so I try to connect with my fans in other ways.
I go live as often as I can, and when I see someone saying something nice about my music, I scroll through their posts to catch a glimpse of who they are.
I hate being a lurker, but at least it doesn’t feel so one-way.
Some of them create amazing art and covers, so I try to support them by making anonymous donations if they have a link in their bio.
I love that they try to see me through me. Even if they miss.
But maybe I’m a kaleidoscope. Maybe everyone who looks at me sees a different girl.
leviackermanscravat okay, am I the only one that thinks that sassy is aroace-spec? she’s left us many hints. a thread.
I sit up on the bed, a gasp clawing its way out of my throat. What? Is this … are they joking? My thumb hovers over the screen, heart thudding, hesitating for a moment before I muster the courage to open the thread.
leviackermanscravat what do we know about Sassy? she loves books, TV, and anime. the lyrics in MM, SB, and TMoYaI are all consistent with character plotlines in some of her favorite stories.
leviackermanscravat in one of her first videos, you can see the edge of what looks like an aroace flag in the corner of her room. see screenshot.
leviackermanscravat also remember when she went Live and we all watched Saiki K? (that’s how she ended up dying her hair pastel pink, but I digress). in this video she jokingly mentioned she related to him because of the way he approached relationships. Saiki K is rumored to be aroace-spec.
leviackermanscravat also, notice how she always avoids talking about her relationship status in interviews? even though her album is about love, she’s never once stated that it’s based on personal experience, that’s just what we’ve *assumed*
sashasdiscardedtoenails we’ve also assumed her songs were about a guy. she could be gay. in her song YHIM she says “not a single word was heard, I regret leaving you,” but if you think about it for a second, “I regret leaving her” rhymes better. it’s a clue.
leviackermanscravat why not aroace?
sashasdiscardedtoenails she writes love songs. what are the odds that she’s aromantic and asexual?
Except that’s exactly what I am. I’m an aromantic, asexual girl who loves romance. Just not when it’s about me.
I crack my knuckles, rereading the words if only to make sure I haven’t imagined them. Someone has seen me. Not Sassy. But Sasha, the real me.
Heat shoots to my face. I don’t know if I should be terrified or relieved.
Maybe it’s both, I wonder, as I tap on the like button, hiding behind the anonymity of my private, anonymous account I use for lurking.
I’m not sure what moves me to do it. Maybe it’s my own way of telling myself that it’s okay to be me, even if people don’t get to see it.
I like being aroace, but sometimes I feel like the world won’t love me back.
I’ve heard some aroace people have a period of mourning once they realize they might never fall in love, but I’ve never craved it in the way I saw my friends crave it, as if being single were a disease to be cured.
I don’t know if that makes me weird—to love romance while simultaneously not wanting it for myself.
I’m not sure when I first realized it. Well, I do, but I don’t like to think about it.
It just became impossible to ignore when everyone around me became sex-crazed and partner-crazed during high school. I wasn’t, but compulsory heterosexuality fools everyone, and I was convinced that I needed to give it a try to keep up. It being relationships and sex.
So I did. But no matter how long I waited for the butterflies, they never came.
There are a few people who know, like my moms, my best friend Mia, and Marissa.
My fingers trace the outline of a friendship bracelet that no longer sits around my wrist.
And Kai.
It’s not like I’ve tried to keep it a secret. It’s just … with how crazy things have been since I released the album, it never seemed like the right moment to come out publicly. There was always something to announce, something to release, and it felt like my sexuality didn’t fit into the mix.
Why should it even? It’s my personal life. But now everyone has assumed I’m straight because of the guy everyone thinks the album is about.
“You’re still not dressed?” Marissa breezes into my room and leans against the threshold, the smell of cheese and tomato sauce wafting up from downstairs.
She raises an eyebrow, a quizzical expression on her face as she finds me huddled in bed, draped in a bathrobe while water trickles from the towel around my hair and onto the sheets.
“Guess what. I’ve found a new K-drama to watch. ”
I yawn. “I’m actually kinda tired…”
“It’s enemies to lovers.”
“Okay, I’m listening.” I lean on my elbows and sit up.
“No phones allowed. You’ll read the spoilers.
” Which, fair. I tend to panic and look at spoilers when we’re watching stuff together, and I accidentally end up telling her.
“Hey, I ordered three-cheese pizza in the end. I didn’t feel like having pineapple.
Is that okay?” She disappears downstairs, her voice echoing through the walls.
She knows I don’t like three-cheese pizza, but she does.
It’s okay. She drove me home after all. I fish for some sweatpants and a T-shirt before following her to the living room.
A notification flashes across my screen when I lock my phone, then the battery dies.
I’m too distracted to charge it or check what it was.
That is my first mistake.