Chapter Thirty-One. Caught in 4K
Chapter Thirty-One
The panic pumping through my veins barely registers before Felix stumbles backward into the room.
“Do you know how much trouble you’re in?!” Necktie screams while bursting in, iron-hot fury emanating from him.
Felix stays silent. He balls his fists so tightly his knuckles turn white.
“ANSWER ME!” Necktie’s next words blur together in a mixture of yelling and cursing. I feel myself slowly starting to shut down when a loud voice suddenly cuts through the shouting.
“Hey!” Will calls as he walks in, concern and a hint of dread painted on his features. The other members, all dressed in pajamas, step inside.
“What’s going on?” Calum hazards, brows tugged into a heavy frown.
Necktie bares his teeth in a snarl. In a swift, forceful movement, he unlocks his phone and slams it against Felix’s chest. “See for yourself.”
The corners of his brows knit as his eyes float across the screen. While Felix reads, Necktie’s attention snaps to me, his face burning bright red and veins on his neck popping. “And you … I warned you not to mess with my band!” he growls. “You little—”
“Enough!” Felix speaks for the first time. “This is my fault. Don’t blame Nat.” Calum snatches the phone from Felix; the other boys crowd around him to read.
“I blame both of you!” Necktie shoots back. He continues shouting, but it fades into little more than a buzzing in my ear as I grab my own phone off the nightstand and find multiple Google Alerts on my lockscreen:
Teen Sensation Felix Song’s Disturbing Sexcapades!
“America’s Sweetheart” Has a SALACIOUS Double Life!
Sorry, Girls: Felix is TAKEN!
I click on the first article, and my stomach drops when I’m met with a photo of two shadowy figures in an empty Denver park.
The picture could be of anyone … if it weren’t for Felix’s fallen hood. Exposing soft, tan skin with a mole on his cheek and long, frosty blond hair poking out from a beanie.
Though it’s impossible, it feels like the only sound I can hear is my heart hurtling around my rib cage. It beats so violently it seems it’ll crawl up my throat. My blood runs ice cold, and the world around me starts spinning.
I sway on my feet, seasick and panicked, as sound filters back in.
“Pack your bags!” Necktie shouts at me. “You’re going home!”
“The hell she is,” Felix interjects.
“No. I’m done with— —bullshit! Choose. The girl or the band.”
“You don’t have the authority to fire anyone!” Will exclaims.
Necktie shoots him daggers. “You think— —label won’t agree? They made the rules!” he spits before turning back to Felix.
“P-please,” his voice breaks. He looks between his bandmates and me, tears shining in his eyes.
“But remember, because of your non-compete clause, you can’t record music for six years.
You wouldn’t only be out of— — band; you’d be out— —the music industry.
And do you think DAYDREAM will survive with— —frontman gone?
One Direction only lasted five months after Zayn left, and— —wasn’t even— —most important member! Choose carefully.”
The words hang in the air, crushing every ounce of hope in the room.
Felix opens his mouth, but before any words escape, I bolt.
My feet move on autopilot as I run down the hall. My vision blurs as I slide to the floor, my back scraping against the cold wall. I draw my knees to my chest, and my breath comes in ragged bursts, as if the weight of everything—Felix, the band, the consequences—has stolen the air from my lungs.
The gravity of it settles in the pit of my stomach, an unmovable stone.
“Natalie, hey,” a gentle voice soothes as I’m brought into a comforting hug. My body trembles, my thoughts a chaotic swirl, every fear, every doubt crashing into me like an avalanche.
I squeeze my eyes shut and force a breath, desperate for control. My hands are clammy and I’m lightheaded, but I center myself. It’s not easy. It’s not quick. But I have to.
I lean away from the figure crouching beside me. A boy with dark brown bed head, a pajama shirt with a drum graphic that reads WHAT ARE YOU SNARING AT?, and a soothing pair of olive eyes meets my gaze.
“Mateo…” His name catches in my throat. “What’s going to happen now?”
He considers me for a long moment. He grows grim as he finally says, “Andrew’s not going to let you stay together—not while Lix is in DAYDREAM … I don’t think this has a happy ending, either way.”
My heart sinks. Why can’t we be together and he can stay in DAYDREAM?
The words seep into me like a toxin, flowing through my body and invading every blood vessel. As much as I want to dismiss his perspective, deep down, in the furthest corner of my soul, I know he’s right.
My chest heaves once more, and I lean against Mateo. He wraps me in another hug as I come to the bitter realization that happily-ever-afters only exist in fiction. There’s no such thing as a perfect, mess-free ending in real life.
Felix Song may act like Prince Charming, but life isn’t a fairy tale.
When we re-enter Felix’s room, the sun is peeking above the horizon and tints the walls pink.
Felix is hunched over on the edge of the bed, tears streaking down his face. He doesn’t look up when we enter, lost in his thoughts, like he’s not fully here. Lachlan silently observes, and Calum and Will stand in front of Necktie, defending us, faces hard with determination.
When he notices me, Felix approaches Necktie with a locked jaw. His lips move, but I can’t tell what he says.
“Fine.” Necktie scowls and checks his watch. “You can have five minutes to talk.”
He storms off, and Mateo shuffles toward the door. “Good luck,” he says awkwardly. The boys follow him into the hall, and Calum shuts the door.
Immediately, Felix yanks me into a tight hug. I count the seconds as they pass, and when we reach twenty, I force myself away from him. We’re on borrowed time.
I planned a speech in the hallway, but now that we’re alone with nothing but our could-have-been love story and tears threatening to spill, everything I wanted to say evaporates.
Unable to conjure up anything else, I apologetically circle a fist on my chest.
He shakes his head rapidly, messy hair swaying. “I’m the one who’s sorry. If I was a normal teenager, Felix from Seattle, not ‘America’s Sweetheart,’ we wouldn’t be dealing with this.”
He tries to hide his pain, but it’s written all over his face: eyes shimmering with tears and lips twisted in agonizing guilt. It’s woven into the way he speaks, voice thin and quivering.
I clamp down on the inside of my cheek. You can’t cry, Natalie. You can’t. I square my shoulders and steady my wobbly chin.
“You are Felix from Seattle,” I emphasize. “No matter who your label tries to make you be, you are—and always will be—Felix from Seattle. They can’t take that away from you.”
“They can take everything! But I won’t let them take you,” he says. I read his lips, hanging on to every word. “You’re the only person who helps me remember who I was. Who I am underneath all the lies.”
I throw my arms around his waist and bury my head in his chest. My heart is breaking, but I force myself to hold it together.
I blink away tears before stepping back.
“The boys know who you are, probably even better than I do. They love you, and I know you love them. Don’t make a rash decision, okay?
” My voice is steady, measured, though inside I’m crumbling.
“It’s not rash. I can’t lose you—”
Worried I won’t be able to calm his racing thoughts, I cut him off with a kiss.
Our lips meet in a clash of emotions. Fear, longing, relief. I reach up, and my fingers brush his soft skin and his hair, committing each sensation to memory. Painting a mental picture of this beautiful, devastating boy.
Felix loves me in a way I’ve never been loved, and I’m not sure I will be again. Dazzling, bold, and breathtaking. He would fight for me. For us. He would set aside his own aspirations and dreams to keep us together.
In this moment, I give him everything I have, the love I held back, the feelings I locked away.
My fingers in his hair and the fabric of his hoodie in my clenched fist are the only things anchoring me.
I pour my heart into the delicate dance of our tongues, the tenderness of our embrace, as if they can convey everything I can’t say.
When he pulls away, it’s a gut-wrenching sting. The breaking of something beautiful that I never wanted to lose. But, somehow, it’s a relief, too. Part of me knows I wouldn’t be strong enough to do it. He brushes hair out of my face and caresses my cheek.
“I’ll stay here instead of coming to the concert. It’ll allow everything to cool down,” I blurt, afraid if I don’t say it now, I never will.
“Alright. How ’bout you go to your room before Andrew comes back. I’ll handle him, and we’ll talk about next steps tonight, yeah?” I hate how relieved he seems.
I briefly debate hugging him, but it’s a very real possibility I’d never let go. I gather last night’s clothes off the floor and head for the hall; my heart aches with each beat, and my lungs feel depleted of air the closer I get to the door.
One hand on the knob, I freeze. I don’t know what possesses me to spin around, but suddenly I’m staring at him from across the room.
I take a long, lingering look, drinking in every minuscule detail, from the way his skin glows golden in the early-morning sun to the way his tangled bed head falls on his shoulders.
He smiles at me—a bittersweet blend of affection and yearning. My heart splits in two.
Because even though he doesn’t know it yet, I know this is the last time I’ll see him. Not as the Felix Song the world knows—from billboards, talk shows, and sold-out stadiums.
This is the last time I’ll see him as Felix from Seattle. As mine.
My Felix,
I’m sorry I left like this, but I can’t be the thing that drags you down. I won’t let you put me before yourself, your future, or the band.
Promise me something, would you? Don’t let others tell you who you are. You’re so much more than what they think. You’re funny, selfless, and one of the best people I know.
I’m sorry you never got to tell the girl you love that you love her … But trust me, she knows. She feels the same way.
I’ve thought of a million ways to say goodbye, but I don’t want this to be “goodbye.” I want it to be “see you later.” Maybe your wish will come true and someday that’ll be possible. Let’s hope the universe is rooting for us.
Thank you for giving me something—no, someone to daydream about.
See you later, Pretty Boy,
Your Nat
Sadness and guilt wash over me like a tidal wave, destroying everything in its wake as I stare at the envelope that contains all the words I couldn’t say to Felix in person, along with the Post-it note IOU that started this journey, a red X across it to void our “contract.”
I’ll worry about finances when I get home. The $40,000 was supposed to be “no strings attached,” but I don’t want his money.
I want him.
Teary-eyed and brokenhearted, I press a kiss to the front of the envelope, whisper a final goodbye, and slide it under his door.