Chapter 12 #2
“That’s okay. I get it, in a way.” Rosa takes a drag from her cigarette.
“My family is from Cuba, but my parents moved around a lot for work when I was little, before settling in London. I don’t get to visit my family as much as I would like, and when I do, I feel like I don’t fully fit in with my cousins the way I used to, at least not completely.
Growing up in London I never felt like I fully fit in with the people around me there, either.
Like I was waiting for a piece of myself to return, to click into place.
” We share a glance, and she shrugs, but something blazes in her eyes.
I don’t prod, unsure if I should. “But maybe it’s okay to exist in the space we make in between places. Home is nothing but yourself.”
“It’s lonely though,” I say. If home is nothing but myself, why does my house feel empty?
Mia’s words rush back to me. Don’t forget to come home.
I’m not sure where or what my home is anymore.
A pause stretches between us. I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. Wisps of smoke billow from her lips, dissolving into the night air.
“You must have questions … about me and Asher.” She hesitates, glancing at her ring. “He did ask me to PR date, but it’s not what you think.”
“You don’t need to tell me. I understand it’s personal.” My grip tightens around the railing. “We all have secrets.”
“I’m tired of secrets. They’re fucking heavy to carry around all the time.
” Her lips twist into a scowl. “I’ve been dating my girlfriend Tara for a while, but when some pictures of us holding hands leaked, I panicked, because I hadn’t come out publicly.
” She looks down. “I know a lot of actors are out, but this is my first big role, and my agent was worried that coming out would limit my career options. Also, Friday fans really ship my and Asher’s characters.
I’m worried about how they’ll react if I shatter their expectations.
I’m worried about Tara’s safety. I don’t know.
Maybe I’m a little paranoid. Or maybe I’m just a coward. ”
“You’re not a coward.” My voice rings with a resolution I didn’t know I had. “You don’t owe anyone anything, let alone an explanation about your life. And your fear is valid. Some fans are crazy.”
If you show them you, the real you, you’ll disappear. My stomach sinks when I remember Asher’s words. Is this how it’s going to be the rest of my life? Offering the world a version of myself that’s not real?
I don’t know if the idea of Sassy protects me or hurts me. It’s easier to be the straight, lovestruck girl everyone expects me to be. I just don’t know if I like her very much.
“I don’t want the person I love to be a secret anymore.
Neither does Tara.” When she smiles this time, her whole face relaxes.
“You took me by surprise yesterday. I was afraid you would out us. That I wouldn’t get to do things on my own terms. My breakup with Asher is fresh in people’s minds, so Tara and I need to wait a bit.
Otherwise things would get really messy—people would think I cheated on Asher, or realize we were PR from the start. ”
“I’d never do that. I promise.” I give her hand a light squeeze. We hardly know each other, but I hope my words ring true to her.
“I believe you.” She squeezes back. “But anyway, since I’m getting married, Asher and I have decided to end the contract. He’s been promoted to best man. But he’s by far the best, well, the only, boyfriend I’ve had. He’s sweet, once you get to know him.”
She unlocks her phone to check the time, and I catch a glimpse of her lock screen.
It’s a picture of herself and a few other people at a house party, Asher among them.
They’re definitely close, just not in the way I assumed.
I thought Asher wanted to PR date me to make Rosa jealous, but it’s obvious that there’s nothing between them other than friendship.
Behind us, the balcony doors prop open. Asher barges out, holding a bottle of whiskey. His mask is gone, his hair windswept, and there’s a flash of red blooming on his neck—is that a hickey?
He snatches the cigarette from Rosa’s hand, wedging himself between us. “This again?”
“Don’t tell Tara. I’m still quitting. These events just stress me out.” Rosa snatches the whiskey from Asher’s hand and takes a sip with a grimace. “Absolutely disgusting.”
“A disgusting five thousand–pound bottle.” Asher turns to me, offering me the whiskey next. “Want some?”
“Wait, where did you go? Who was that guy?” Are you queer? I glance inside, but Matt is gone.
“Oh, you want details?” He smirks.
“Nooo.” I shove him sideways. He doesn’t seem worried that anyone at this party could out him. Whether it’s because he’s being careful or because he has a team to take care of that, I don’t know.
“Tara’s home. I’m leaving.” Rosa plants a smooch on Asher’s cheek. “Your breath stinks. Text me when you get home.”
“Okay.” Asher’s reaction is a mix of amusement and something else—a softness that flickers briefly in his eyes when Rosa presses her face against his. “See you later. Tell Tara to send me the links I asked her for.”
“We are not letting you rent an island for our wedding, Ashy.”
“But it’s romantic.”
“It’s a crime against humanity, is what it is.” Rosa disappears back into the party. “Bye, Sasha. See you on set!”
I half expect Asher to leave, too, but he just sighs and slides to the ground. His eyes find mine when I move to check my phone. “Are you ditching me, too, to hang out with your boyfriend? So many lovebirds flying around me.”
“Not yet.” I smooth my dress over my legs and sit next to him.
We’re quiet for a while, glancing at the mantle of stars, sharing sips of whiskey that is way too sweet and burns down my throat. It’s weird. I usually hate silence. It makes me feel exposed. But this feels peaceful. Like I need no script.
“I don’t get it, though. What’s so good about love?” he mumbles. I don’t know if he’s asking me or talking to himself.
“It’s nice to have someone to come home to,” I say. I always get excited when I have my moms, Sonia, Mia, and Kai to come back to.
“That’s not love. That’s companionship.”
“And companionship isn’t love?” I turn to him, but he just purses his lips. I’m not sure why he’s opening up suddenly. I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe he’s just drunk.
“Is that what Kai is to you?” he asks. “The person you want to come home to?”
I fidget with the hem of my dress, hesitating. Despite everything, I’m starting to enjoy fake-dating Kai. It’s like we get to be a couple without the pressure of romance. But I can’t let that peaceful feeling sink in. We’ll never be a couple in the traditional sense, and we have an expiration date.
“Look, I don’t think love has anything to do with falling in love. You can fall in love with someone you don’t love. And you can love someone without falling in love.”
“Everyone wants to fall in love.” He downs the last of the whiskey, his gaze dropping as he traces the edge of a tile with his finger. “It must be fun.”
It dawns on me then, what he’s implying. “You’ve never been in love?”
“Nah. I don’t think that’s in the cards for me.” There’s something about the way he says it, a hint of resignation in his voice that gives my heart a squeeze. “Maybe I’m a bad person.”
“Why would you be a bad person?” I flatten my hands on the floor, letting the coolness of the tiles ground me.
“That’s what my ex told me.”
“That Matt guy?”
“God, no. Matt’s just a friend.” He snorts, the breath he expels dispersing in the night air. “I had this situationship with someone a while ago, and he ended up falling for me. I told him I didn’t want to be exclusive. He thought I was leading him on.”
“Were you?” I ask. My stomach sinks. When Kai and I first broke up, he accused me of leading him on. He thought I had used him, taken advantage of his feelings.
“I told him from the start that I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but he thought I would change my mind.
” He lets out a shaky laugh. “He was great. I was just … I couldn’t fall in love.
I wanted to keep him in my life, I really did, more than anything, but he asked me to give him space.
He hasn’t spoken to me since.” His voice cracks.
“Maybe he was right. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. ”
“Why? As long as you’re honest and up-front with your partners, I don’t see anything wrong with that,” I say, and then, because I just need to know, I ask, “Do you think you could be aromantic?”
He gives me an odd look.
“LGBTQIA+? The A stands for asexual and aromantic.”
Are you like me?
“I am definitely, most assuredly, not asexual.” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Okay, and?” A loose strand of hair falls over his forehead. I resist the urge to smooth it back into place. “You could still be aromantic.”
“Will a label mean anything? I’m not trying to change who I am.” His voice softens. “Maybe I’m just mourning who I could have been.”
I want to tell him that being aro doesn’t mean losing anything, but lately I’m not sure.
Life would be so much easier if I weren’t.
It terrifies me to think that one day all my friends will be in stable partnerships, and they won’t have time for me.
Always in the periphery, but never at the forefront of someone’s mind.
“Is that why you’re so eager to do the whole PR thing?” I ask. “You want to force yourself to fall in love?”
“No.” Asher snorts before scrambling to his feet, turning his back to me. He twists away, running his fingers through his hair. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m a romantic.”
“Aromantic.”
“Can’t I be both? A romantic aromantic?” The scattered lights from the party sharpen his features, every smooth line of his cheekbones. The shielded look in his eyes gives me pause. He looks a little scary. Like he’s standing on a cliff, waiting for someone to push him over the edge.
“Let’s go.” I brush specks of dust off my dress and open the balcony doors.
“Where?”
I shrug, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around his shoulders. “You paid half a million pounds for a private concert. You’re getting one.”