Jace
Ipack my suitcase, rolling up the cotton items and place them horizontally in the bottom portion of the case. I reserve the top portion for toiletries, shoes, and miscellaneous items.
I plop down on the couch and pull out my phone.
I’ve been actively avoiding Social Share but I can’t help but take another look.
The app loads and my profile appears. I click on the messages, there are hundreds of tags, memes, videos, and other random things that people have sent to me. I click on the primary inbox and scroll through until I find Lennox’s name, then tap on the message.
Lennoxrome: So…still coming?
Lennoxrome: Hello out there. *echo echo echo
Lennoxrome: Do I need to get “desperately bossy”?
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I read the last text messages he sent to me. The night we gave into each other completely, the night I laid my body out for him, giving myself to him in all the ways I wanted.
But now, I relive the flashbacks of all the emotions he pulled from me and my heart still hasn’t recovered. I don’t think it ever will.
There are so many things I want to say. Tell him. Talk to him about.
More than anything, I just want the ease of conversation we’ve always had.
But, my mother is relentless. She’ll do anything to exploit actions that she deems inappropriate and stop at nothing to get what she wants.
If I see Lennox and something happens it could ruin everything.
I swipe out of the app and type his name in my search browser instead.
The last time I went down this rabbit hole he was partying, drinking, hanging out with people I recognize from his social media account before he got famous and started acting. I wanted to message him, tell him to stop being so stupid and reckless.
But I never did, because I’ve relinquished all my rights to say anything to him, even as a friend. His mate.
This time, a photo loads and my heart sinks in my chest.
LENNOX ROME IN LONDON, REIGNITED AN OLD FLAME.
There are multiple images, all with the same beautiful woman. They walk along a cement riverbank with the bustling streets of London behind them, coffee in hand as they gaze at each other smiling.
The article writes some nonsense of this mystery woman being someone from his past and when I scroll down to the next photo, it’s two younger versions of them.
The corner of my lip lifts up as I take in Lennox at probably twenty-one years old.
His hair is shorter and he’s missing that sharp edge he has to him now but his smile shines through those deep jade eyes.
I lose the smirk when I see his arms wrapped around her shoulder as they pose with so much happiness for the picture.
They’re sitting at a table, smiling into the camera, as if a friend was taking it. A bright neon sign that says, The Bobby Knocker, is behind them in the background.
I continue to scroll, skimming over the black and white print because I know more than anyone, they say what they see and not what they know.
Another recent image appears, taken in the same place in London as the first image, but this time they‘re facing each other. He’s cupping her cheeks in his hands, smiling down at her as they gaze into each other's eyes.
I thumb to the last image. He’s hugging her, his arms wrapped around her waist, hers around his shoulders, and they’re squeezing each other like it means something, like he doesn’t want to let her go.
“Fuck.” I toss my phone on the coffee table and slouch back on the couch.
Knock. Knock.
“It’s me, open up,” Gordon calls out and I glance at the clock, not realizing so much time has passed.
“Coming,” I call out as I stand, walking to the door and letting him in.
“Want the good news or the bad news?” He walks past me, full business mode.
“Hello to you, too.” I shut the door.
“Sorry, hi,” he replies, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.
“Okay,” I say skeptically because I can already tell this isn’t good. “Bad news.”
“They sent a subpoena to your mother. The court date is confirmed for next Friday. She has hired a bunch of high end attorneys to represent her. Has she called you?”
I press the palms of my hands into my eyelids, pushing into the sockets so hard I see sparks of light. Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, attempting to calm myself.
“No, she hasn’t.”
“Oh,” he replies. Because with my mother, silence is deadly. “Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. The attention you’ve been getting is minimal which is great for us. Out of sight, out of mind, they say, right?”
But, I’m fucking miserable.
I nod, agreeing.
“Lennox has been on a rampage making some headlines. I think his behavior is overshadowing yours, which is actually quite perfect.” He eyes me cautiously. We haven’t talked about Lennox since that day in his car, but he knows Lennox and I aren’t talking to each other.
“On a more exciting topic. Pierre is letting you premiere the Iron Horizon trailer on the Midnight Hour tonight.”
I can physically feel my thrum in my chest beat faster at the idea of seeing Lennox in those scenes. The both of us together.
“Yeah…exciting,” I reply, with little excitement.
At least I’ll just need to bear through seeing him on TV and not live in person.