Chapter 10 #2
The sound of keys startles me, distracting me for a second, then the door slams open. I search Asher’s face—I thought he lived alone—but he’s facing a corridor I can’t see from where I’m standing.
“Ashy, guess who’s engaged! She said yes!” says a woman’s voice. There’s a thud, like she just took off her shoes unceremoniously. “Tara says you’re officially on best man duty—”
“Rosa—” Asher scrambles to his feet, a panicked look on his face.
Rosa? His ex, Rosa?
“I brought you a box of things that you had at our place.” Rosa emerges into the living room. When she spots us, she goes still and drops the box she’s holding. Balls of yarn roll across the floor. “Oh.”
Her eyes settle on me, then Kai. All color drains from her face when she recognizes me.
Rosa López, twenty-two, Asher’s costar and his ex-girlfriend.
The girl Asher keeps a picture of in his bedroom.
Except, the Rosa from the tabloids was in love with Asher until their work schedules ruined their relationship.
The Rosa in front of me is wearing a diamond ring on her finger, and she’s talking about a girl named Tara.
I freeze, unsure of what to do next. I don’t know what’s going on, but my theory about Asher wanting to date me to make Rosa jealous was definitely wrong.
“Hello, random stranger,” Kai says from the couch. “What’s with all the balls of yarn?”
“Uh.” Rosa crosses her arms over her sweater, her deep brown skin painted golden rose by the lamp in Asher’s living room.
She’s wearing pajama pants, casual enough to make me wonder if she’s used to stopping by Asher’s place at this hour, or maybe lives nearby.
“You have guests?” She shoots Asher a sharp glance. “You never—”
Asher picks up the scattered balls of yarn and crochet tools before Muse can claim them. “Rosa, this is Sasha and Kai, my…”
“Friends?” Kai scoffs. “We’re not friends. But I’m friends with Muse.”
“Kai had an accident,” Asher says. “It was my fault, so I had my doctor check in on him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I was just stopping by to, um, run my lines with Asher.” The look on her face is panicked as she turns to me. “We’re introducing a plot twist later in the season and … it’s…”
She knows it’s futile. I’ve read the script. There’s nothing about a girl named Tara or a wedding. She and Asher exchange a look, as if looking for a plausible explanation that will justify her presence. According to the press, their breakup is fresh, and they’re avoiding each other.
“It’s all right. I trust them,” Asher says. But his hands clench at his sides, betraying his anxiety. “Or at least I think I can.” I give him a long look. Does he? Trust us? Or is it because he has no choice? When Asher faces me, his eyes are pleading. “Can I?”
I nod.
“My relationship with Rosa was a PR move,” he says.
“It was my idea. I asked Rosa to do it. Thought it’d benefit our careers, since we’re the leads in our show.
And it worked. The show’s doing great, and we both got more exposure.
” He and Rosa share a look. He places a hand on his heart.
“But it was all me. She had nothing to do with it.”
Rosa’s eyes slide to the floor. Something on her face, the way she balls her hands into fists, tells me that she carries a similar weight, the same guilt as me. Like people want her to be someone she’s not, and she’s terrified of disappointing them.
“I get it,” I blurt out. “I really do. Don’t worry.”
“You do?” Rosa blinks, snapping out of her shock, a tinge of curiosity in her eyes.
My stomach sinks. “Um, we should probably get going. It’s late and we have a fundraiser tomorrow.” I turn to Kai on the couch, letting him use my shoulders as support as he stands.
We need to get out of here.
“The Homes for Change event?” Asher asks. “We’re going, too. We donated some items.”
Great.
“Cool.” I flash my best attempt at a genuine smile, but it falls flat.
We’re all in the same industry. We can sniff out fake niceties.
Rosa still looks tense when I brush past her.
She clutches her phone in a death grip, her screen open to a Pinterest wedding page.
She’s saved a few things—types of flowers and their meanings, and the search bar reads fun wedding ideas.
Something in my chest warms. On my way out, I squeeze her shoulder, managing a real smile.
“Congratulations. Um, my moms had lilies at their wedding, too, and they smelled amazing. You can’t go wrong with them. ”
I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I want to believe that I feel her shoulder drop, relaxing under my hand. Then Kai and I are out the door, and, hopefully, out of Asher’s life forever.
“Oh, wow. You look…” Kai gives me a once-over as I stroll out of my room and into the living room. He hobbles to the doorway, careful not to put any weight on his injured foot. “Uncomfortable.”
Behind me, my stylist, Belinda, puts the finishing touches on my hair and steps back so I can look at myself in the mirror.
I’m wearing a silver dress, fitted up top, with a deep neckline that accentuates the contours of my body.
It transitions to a princess gown made from a flowy material that slits up the side, revealing a glimpse of my leg.
“Thank you, Bee. Are you sure I won’t step on the train?” I ask Belinda, running my fingers down the glittery gown. I love how soft and velvety the fabric feels under my hands.
“Probably,” Kai jokes. “The first time you and Mia came over to my house you tripped on the doorstep and ate the floor. That was my grandpa’s first impression of you, by the way.”
I throw a cushion at him. “Said by the guy wearing a boot. Skill issue.”
“No, but really. Are you nervous?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and adjusts the mask around my eyes, shaped like glittery wings.
“A little.” I relax into his touch for a second, turning around to stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look … nice. But I don’t look like me. All I see in the mirror is Sassy, ethereal as she sparkles in her dress, a mystery behind a mask. “I’ve never attended this type of event.”
“We’ll be fine. Right, where’s my suit?” Kai scans the chaos in the living room—a pile of discarded dresses, hair products, and a makeup case strewn around. He crashed the moment we got home from Asher’s place, and he just woke up. “I should start getting ready.”
“Your only job today is to rest.” I nudge him onto the sofa. “You can’t come with your ankle like that. You’ll have to stand for most of the evening. You should stay here and work.”
He frowns. “I can use the crutches. I’d rather go to this gala than work on my homework.”
“I said work, not study.” I hand him his tablet.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to show people your art yet, but I’m not people, and I want to have something to read tonight.
So, work on your story. The one you showed me.
” He cocks an eyebrow, like he doesn’t buy it.
“It’s best if I go alone. We don’t want to be seen as codependent.
It’s important that we’re each our own person. ”
This gives him pause. It’s partly true. I don’t want him to be perceived as my boyfriend or the gentle first love. I want him to be Kai, the artist.
I just want people to appreciate my silly little drawings. Something is keeping Kai from believing in his art. I don’t know how to help, other than be there for him while he figures it out.
“Okay, abandon me in my time of need,” he says. He leans back against the couch dramatically, twisting his digital pen between his fingers. In Kai-speak, that means I’ve convinced him. “I’m ordering room service.”
“Save me the leftovers.” I slide into my heels. “Okay, I’m off. Have fun.”
“Sash.” His fingers curl around my wrist before I can slip away. “Text me if you need anything. I mean it. I’ll be right there, sprained ankle and all.”
I squeeze his hand in lieu of a response. I don’t doubt he will. Whenever Kai’s around, I forget what it’s like to feel alone.