25. Calla
TWENTY-FIVE
CALLA
I used to love award shows.
Ok, I still love awards shows. The glitz and the glam. Seeing my mentors and peers all in one place. It’s exciting.
I guess the difference now is that I don’t love my date for the award shows.
Thompson is once again waiting in the lobby to ride with us to the event space. It’s a silent ride. Luke sits in the front seat, and I sit as close to the door as I possibly can without wrinkling my dress. I want as much distance between Thompson and me as possible. Not just for Luke’s sake, but my own as well.
The red carpet is overwhelming as always, but I’ve learned where to look, when to smile, and what to say when I’m interviewed. It’s not as traumatizing for me as it once was.
I glance at Luke every so often. His frown looks extra angry today, especially when Thompson wraps his arms around my waist.
It’s funny. I never took Luke to be a jealous person, but earlier in the hotel room… oh my god. That was the hottest moment of my life.
It also confirmed for me that I’ve fallen head over heels in love with my bodyguard. What a complete disaster.
But much like other things in my life, I’ll have to wait to address my feelings for him until after the tour is over. I don’t think he wants to talk about it yet, either.
Tonight is about the music.
Once we’re through with the red carpet and into the venue, Luke gets separated from me. He has to sit a few rows behind where Thompson and I are sitting. We knew this would happen, but I still hate to be away from him.
As the show starts, I try my best to keep my attention on the stage because I know the camera is going to keep panning in my direction. Thompson keeps his hand on top of mine, making it look like we’re holding hands, which I hate. But we’re surrounded by so many people that I can’t make a scene. He also keeps whispering things to me right when a camera is nearby. Not a coincidence, I’m sure. I can’t believe I never noticed how manipulative he was. He played me so well.
I haven’t said a single word to him all night, and I hope to keep it that way.
I’m nominated for two awards tonight—International Artist of the Year and International Song of the Year. Truthfully, I never expect to win at these things, so I always feel awkward waiting for them to announce the winner. Maybe it’s imposter syndrome, but I still feel like I’m a newcomer at these things. Like it’s not possible for me to win when I’m sitting four seats down from someone who was putting out albums when I was in kindergarten.
I smile and clap when I don’t win the song of the year, but when my name is called for artist of the year, my shocked expression isn’t an act.
Thompson leans over and kisses my cheek. On instinct I go to wipe it off, but stop myself, remembering everyone is watching me. I stand on shaky legs and walk up to the stage on my own.
Some actor who was in a movie with Thompson one time, I can’t for the life of me remember his name, hands me the award and kisses my cheek to congratulate me.
I stand in front of the microphone, and thankfully, the lights make it hard to see anyone beyond the first few rows. I get so nervous speaking in front of a crowd. Singing: no problem. But speaking? Yeah, no thanks.
“Wow, this is unbelievable. I’m blown away.” I take a deep breath, trying to get my thoughts in order. “This is for my fans, truly. This past year has been insane. I’ve had so much fun touring and writing new music. You’ve given me the grace to become who I want to be over the last few years, and I’m so grateful for you all.
“A big thank you to my label, my agent Brayden, my manager Ashley for keeping my head screwed on, and LP for believing in me. Really, my entire team. Couldn’t do this without you all.”
I lift the award into the air once before I turn and am escorted off stage.
I take my time talking to people backstage, shaking hands, taking pictures, and doing interviews. The longer I can spend back here, the less time I have to sit next to Thompson. Eventually though, I’m led back to my seat. I checked with the coordinator, and there are only a few more awards left. I can make it through this.
As soon as I sit down, Thompson leans into me and whispers, “You didn’t thank me.”
Oh, god. Here we go. Through gritted teeth, I say, “I have nothing to thank you for.”
“It’s going to look weird that you didn’t, though. People will question it.”
“Let them.” We have this entire conversation with plastered-on smiles. I bet we look absolutely insane.
“That’s not part of the deal, babe.”
I finally turn so I can look him in the eyes. “I’m starting to not care about this deal. I’d be happier if I never had to see your face again.”
For the first time in, well, maybe ever, I think he can see how serious I am. He swallows, and his eyes soften the way they used to when he wanted something from me. Too bad for him it has zero effect on me now.
All fake smiles are off. We’re having this conversation right here, I suppose. “Calla, are you really done with me? I thought after some space, you’d realize how right we are for each other.”
“How would I possibly realize that when we haven’t spoken in weeks? Huh? If anything, this time apart has made me realize how much I can’t stand you. I don’t need you, and I sure as hell don’t want you.”
He looks genuinely taken aback and for a split second, I feel bad for what I said. For a time, he was my entire world. My feelings for him were real. It’s so funny how things can change so quickly. “You don’t mean that, Calla.”
“I do. I mean it with my entire heart, Thompson.”
“Look, I can do better. I won’t fuck around anymore. I’ll make time for you. We can get married if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, that’s how every girl wants to be proposed to,” I say with an eye roll.
“I’m serious, Calla. I’ve bought the ring and everything.” Before, I would’ve been ecstatic with that news. Even with the crappy proposal, I would’ve accepted. But now that I know my own worth and how being in love truly feels, I would rather give up my entire life than be married to Thompson.
“I hope you can return it. Or you could just save it for one of your side girls. I’m sure they’d love it.”
“Calla, it was always meant to be us. You have to know that.”
“You keep saying that, but I think you’ve forgotten that people can change. My feelings for you are nonexistent at this point. I don’t want to date you. I don’t want to fake date you. I certainly don’t want to marry you. Get it out of your head. I’m doing this until the end of the tour, and then I never want to see or hear from you again.”
I turn back to face the stage, signaling that our conversation is over. I can feel him staring at me and I just know the next thing he says is going to be something stupid. He can’t stand not having the last word.
“You know, you’re kinda hot when you’re mad.” Yep. There it is.
“Shut the fuck up, Thompson.”
“We never got to have hot, angry break-up sex. We could do it, though. Just one night. To say goodbye. We were good together.”
“I’d rather pull off my own fingernails than sleep with you again.”
“Jesus, Calla,” he says, the lust in his voice gone. “You have changed.”
“Thank god for that.”
We don’t speak for the rest of the show. I’m grateful that he finally got the message.
When the show is over, he turns to me as we stand from our seats. “Are you still going to the after-party?”
“No.” I was never planning on going to any after-party.
“Alright, well, I’m gonna go.”
“Have fun.” I couldn’t care less where he goes after this as long as it’s not anywhere near me.
“Calla,” he says. His voice is so soft that I can’t help but look at him. “I am sorry, you know? And I’d like for us to be friends.”
I’m still convinced that he’s only sorry that he got caught and not actually sorry for what he did. But my shoulders sag a little. It’s a lot of energy hating someone.
“I’m not ready to accept your apology. Maybe one day we can be cordial to each other, but today is not that day. I can’t look at you without being angry.”
He nods. “I get it. I hope you can be happy one day, Cal. Even if it’s not with me.”
I exhale. We had a few good years together. As much as he is absolutely the wrong person for me, I’m sure he’ll be the right person for someone else one day. “You too, Thompson.”
Finally, he walks away for what I hope will be the last time. As far as I know, I don’t have any other appearances scheduled with him as of now.
I walk to find Luke. He’s frowning, of course. I don’t doubt that he saw my interaction with Thompson.
I’m about to apologize, but he beats me to it. “Congratulations, International Artist of the Year.”
That’s not at all what I was expecting him to say, and it brings a smile to my face.
“Thank you.” My cheeks turn pink for literally no reason. Maybe because Luke still gives me butterflies, and any attention from him makes me over the moon.
He leans in a little closer and whispers, “I can’t wait to congratulate you later tonight.”
Heat fills my body. Even after what we did only hours ago, I want him again.
We make our way out of the theater. The path is cleared for us, but Luke stays close to me. We’re directed toward the back entrance, where there’s a bit of a line to wait for cars. Luke looks down a hallway and quickly pulls me into it, pushing me into a little alcove. He presses his body up against mine in an attempt to hide me from prying eyes.
Then he kisses me. His tongue wastes no time meeting mine. Every time I kiss him, it feels like the first time. Like it’s such a relief to finally have his lips on mine.
“You know I’ll always believe in you, right?” he asks when he finally pulls away from me.
I smile, glad he caught on to what I said about him in my speech. I nod. “You might be the only one these days.”
He shakes his head. “It might feel like that, Calla, but it’s not true. So many people believe in you and love you. It’s just unfortunate that the people closest to you seem to have forgotten how great you are.”
It really is unfortunate, and I deflate.
Luke notices immediately and grabs my hand, pulling me out of the hiding space. “Come on. Let’s go. If I don’t get you naked in the next half hour, I might die.”
I laugh. “You just had me.”
“It’ll never be enough.”