30
30
The first thing I do when I wake up in the hotel room the next morning is roll over in bed and stare out at the view. The soft white sand of South Beach stretches out below my balcony, looking like a miniature version of reality from this high up, and the teal blue ocean glitters beneath a helicopter and a couple of huge herons swooping low to dip into the water.
The second thing I do is reach for my phone and sigh.
Rehearsals went on for way longer than expected yesterday afternoon, lasting into the evening, and then, after a couple hours’ break for dinner, we picked back up because the show needed some adjustments after we saw how much space we had onstage. I missed out on the chance to relax with the girls at the spa, and didn’t even get to see them when we finally got back to the hotel late at night since they’d both gone to bed already.
I sit up and pull the sheets close to my chest, hugging my knees against the crisp breeze from the AC. I scroll through my notifications, a nagging sense of something being off about my meetup with Riley. She hasn’t reached out. And neither has John. It just doesn’t sit right with me, not after her speech about supporting each other and not letting boys come between us. Did she tell him that we’d made up? Did she tell him not to text me? Is he annoyed I met up with her?
Does it even matter?
Deciding it doesn’t, I toss my phone across the mattress and slip out of bed, running a hot shower to relax after yesterday’s long-ass day. When I’m done, I head down to breakfast, where Maya and Val have already grabbed us a table with a perfect view of the ocean and a steaming pot of coffee awaits me, its aroma an instant and welcome distraction. I pour a cup and take a sip, then slump back into my seat with a contented sigh.
“Bliss,” I say with a smile, cradling my mug.
“Where the hell did you go last night?” Maya’s quick to break the tranquility as she bites into her avocado toast.
“Where did I go?” I scoffed. “Rehearsals dragged on past midnight, so exhausting. Had to keep running it to get all the choreo and blocking right. We needed that, though, and thankfully I feel good about the show now. Praise the lord, it had me stressing for a sec.”
“Sheesh,” Val says, her voice noticeably groggy. “Between your rehearsals and Maya’s fitting for the fashion show, I was here all alone for most of the day, bored as shit. I went to the spa and it was gorgeous, but damn, there were so many judgy supermodels in there.”
“Hey.” Maya swats at her with the menu. “Less supermodel hate, or I’ll start bitching about all these whiny hotel heiresses who think nothing’s good enough.”
“Good morning.”
All three of us whip our heads around at the velvety-rich voice that appears right behind my seat, the conversation suddenly forgotten when I realize who it is.
“Win!” I stand up and lean into his embrace, hit by the intoxicating drift of his cologne as I pull back. Fuck, he even smells handsome. “You made it!”
“Of course I did. What better way to start my first morning here in Miami than in the company of you three?”
He pulls out the chair beside mine, opposite Val and Maya, and seats himself casually, as if this is perfectly normal. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to come at all. Usually when I make a loose plan with a guy something comes up or they forget or there are a million other reasons why it never actually happens.
But this is Win, and he’s a man of his word.
I instantly wish I’d made more of an effort with my hair and makeup before coming downstairs. Self-awareness washes over me as I sit back in my seat and offer to pour him a coffee.
“So, what’s the news this morning?” Win asks the table as he reaches for the menu, and for the next few minutes before the waiter comes to take our order we talk easily, swapping stories about what we all got up to yesterday and discussing our plans for the show.
“Where are you staying, Win?” Val asks pleasantly.
“Not too far away,” he says, gesturing behind him. “I recently bought a house out here.”
Maya lets out a low whistle. “Fancy. Didn’t I hear you have a yacht out this way too?”
He smiles and tucks his designer shades into the collar of his shirt. “I sure do. Who told you that?”
There’s a sparkle in Maya’s eye as she watches him over the rim of her glass. “Now, that would be telling.”
Instead of rising to her flirtation, Win glances at me, the smile on his face as calm as ever. I know Maya’s only teasing, but a little pang of something uncomfortable hits me as I recall her saying she’d chase after Win if I didn’t. It was just a joke, I remind myself, but still. I feel strangely territorial over him.
“So, I told Princess already, but I’m having a little party on my yacht tonight with a few friends and business people, and you’re all more than welcome to join us.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Win,” Val says.
“That sounds fun, we’d love to come!” Maya straightens up.
They discuss the timing and where the yacht is docked a little bit, but I’m not really paying attention. I’m still sleepy, and I can’t tear my unfocused gaze off the sunlit ocean as it ripples in the distance.
Without warning, his warm hand touches my knee, surprisingly large and completely unexpected. I jolt back to the conversation, meeting eyes with Win.
“Huh?”
“You’re still planning to come, right, daydreamer?” Yet his hand stays put for a few more seconds. His pupils dilate and my eyes are drawn to his lips, where his charming, amused smile alerts me to the fact he just asked me a question.
Embarrassed, I let out a small chuckle, feeling my cheeks flush. “Oh, for sure, I’ll be there. Sounds like fun.”
Goose bumps break out all over as he finally slides his hand away. Daydreamer. I kind of love the way he called me that.
“Good. I gotta use the restroom. Know where it is?” he asks.
“Over by the bar,” Val says, pointing in the right direction.
“Thanks.”
“Actually, me too,” I say, standing up at the same time as Win. I push out of my seat and bump into him accidentally, my ass brushing against his thigh. Startled, he steps back quickly but reaches to grab my waist and steady me.
“Oh god, I’m sorry.”
“No, no,” he says quickly. “That was my bad.”
His breath fans the hair on the side of my neck, making more goose bumps prickle over my skin. I become acutely aware of his hands, his fingertips squeezing my hips until he’s sure I’m steady on my feet. I wonder if he’s just as tuned in to the sensation of our bodies colliding as I am. There’s such an energy between us I can barely breathe. As soon as I remember where we are and exactly who’s watching—Val with a lifted brow, Maya with a knowing smirk—his hands have left me and he’s pushing my chair back under the table, ever the gentleman.
Holy shit.
“So he just, like, showed up to have breakfast with you and then left to go about his normal day?”
“Exactly. It was so unexpected but, like, I loved it, you know.”
“Yeah, I bet. Imagine that. Win showing up at your hotel to start his day with you.” Jessie sighs dreamily through the phone.
I’m making my way back up to my hotel room, having just finished breakfast. The girls are headed to the pool, and Win’s off to do whatever Win does.
“He’s so reliable,” I say in agreement, knowing Jessie’s swooning just as hard as me.
“Seriously. Why can’t all men be like him?”
“Right?”
I hit the button on the elevator to go up and then step inside, thankful when nobody follows me in. I saw a group of girls whispering about me as if they were starstruck down in the hotel lobby. They seemed harmless, but after the stalker situation I get really nervous about being followed, especially when I’m in hotels.
“All right, time to address the elephant in the room. How was yesterday?” Jessie asks.
“Just as weird as I expected,” I say, glancing down at the friendship bracelet still on my wrist and back at Jessie, trying to read her tone. “We got matching bracelets.”
“Oh, don’t I know it.” Jessie laughs dryly.
“Yeah.” I let out a hesitant laugh. “I still don’t really know what to think about it. Are you thrown off? I wasn’t the one who came up with the idea.”
“What?” Jessie laughs. “Not at all! A little bit of a questionable situation on Riley’s part but the bracelet is actually really cute.”
“Okay, good.” I press my hand to my chest. “I was worried there for a sec. All this talk of rekindling our friendship and BFF this and that is so much to take in right now. I think I’m still in shock, to be honest.” A laugh skips out. Then I realize what Jessie just said. “Hold up, how do you know about the bracelets? I haven’t told anyone.”
“I have your Google Alerts, remember? The pics of you two at Tiffany’s are plastered on like every site. RileyxPrincess was also trending on X for a minute.”
The speed with which the media spreads stories never ceases to amaze me. Guess I missed all that while I was in rehearsals for the show.
“Right, that makes sense. Riley wouldn’t have had those pics set up for nothing.”
“Did she mention John at all?”
“No, aside from not really giving me a straight answer about whether they’re together or not and saying something about how she doesn’t want him to come between us anymore. Why?”
“Yikes.”
“Ugh, please, no yikes. I cannot handle any more ‘yikes’ right now.”
“I’m just going to give it to you straight.”
My heart lodges in my throat. “What now?”
Jessie takes a deep breath. “Riley and John had a massive meltdown on Instagram yesterday. It started with a comment or something, and then the next thing you know, she’s on Instagram Live giving a speech about how she’s sick of men ruining powerful female friendships with their inconsistent, slutty behavior—”
“She literally said ‘slutty’? For John?”
“Yep.”
“Wow . . . that is yikes.”
“It gets worse. Obviously you haven’t checked, and honestly, more power to you, because that place is a cesspit right now, but I’m just going to say it. She tagged you in a story and then reposted a bunch of photos from your outing yesterday, talking about how close you two are and how you’ve recently gotten even closer following—and I quote—‘a few growing pains in your friendship’ where you realized you’d both fallen victim to ‘a certain manipulative guy.’ So she’s posting all this on Instagram while simultaneously having these very public, very messy arguments with John in some comments section, so he then retaliates by posting some stories of his own—not videos, but like reposting passive-aggressive quotes from a bunch of different accounts—and my god, it was fucking exhausting. All the while I was trying to call you, but you weren’t answering because—”
“I was in rehearsals,” I say, completely drained. I can barely believe a word of what Jessie just told me. It feels like I’m not even in my own body as I step out of the elevator and onto my floor, half stumbling down the hallway toward my room. “A few growing pains . . . both fallen victim . . . Is she fucking delusional?” Tapping my key card against the lock, I push open the door and storm into my room, even more irritated by the slow-close hinges that stop it from slamming shut behind me. I need to make some noise right now. This is insane.
“Why?! I swear she thinks she’s some master puppeteer dragging all of us into her drama. Doesn’t she get tired? Isn’t there someone else she can use for entertainment? I keep all this shit to myself, stay out of her way, and somehow I’m right back in the middle of fucked-up situations and I’m always one step behind. If I’m being real, I’m not even one iota surprised by this shit. This is Riley Vega, after all.”
I pace the room in front of the windows, raging into the phone. “So she used me once again. All that bullshit about wanting to be friends again, to get back to a place where we weren’t competing with each other—mind you, she started this weird competition, whatever this is. Oh, and of course, don’t forget the fucking photos she staged!”
“I’m so sorry, Princess.” Jessie sounds as devastated as I feel underneath all my anger. “For what it’s worth, there were a lot of comments—and I mean a lot—wondering why you weren’t speaking on it, and so many of your fans kept mentioning your new song lyrics and connecting them to the John and Riley situation. I think most people get that she’s fabricating this whole thing.”
“But why?” I say, exasperated. The temptation to log into my Instagram and check is too much, but I know it’d only be bad news. I wouldn’t be able to control myself from speaking up in my current mood.
“I don’t know, Princess,” Jessie says. “All I’m saying is, that song you released on your own hit deep for a lot of people, and it really took off—more than a lot of Riley’s songs. Maybe she got jealous of your success and freaked out thinking those lyrics would expose a little too much of the truth about who she really is.”
“You think? She wouldn’t set up this whole thing just to stop the rumors from spreading about her and John fucking me over?”
“It’s the only thing that adds up. If anyone’s going to fall down a rabbit hole online for you, you know it’s gonna be me.”
“I love you, Jessie.”
“I love you, too, girl. Please, keep your ass off social media today and just . . . I don’t know, talk to Kimi and Wayne and see what they think you should do.”
“Honestly, right now I just feel like flying home and saying a big fuck-you to Riley’s Cirque au bord de l’eau bullshit. She probably only wanted me to perform here to add some more weight to the lie.”
“Makes sense.”
“God, I hate this.”
“Call Kimi and Wayne. They’ll help you.”
I nod even though she can’t see me and take a deep breath. “All right, I have a call set up with them in a couple of minutes, anyway. Thanks for the update, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, Princess.”
“Don’t be, Jessie. This is not your mess to be sorry for.”
We hang up and I spend a little while trying to decompress before answering Wayne’s call. Before I do, there’s just one more important task to complete. Standing on the balcony of my hotel suite, the sparkling ocean below and the blue sky above, I rip the stupid diamond friendship bracelet off my wrist and throw it over the railing. Let someone else find it and sell it for some cash. Better yet, I hope it gets carried out to sea, never to be found again. I’ve made up my mind. I won’t let her use me any longer.
“Fuck you, Riley.”
This is the last time I’m falling for any more selfish lies.