I fight the urge to follow my thoughts as they spiral down, down, down.
“Look,” she says. “I’ll do some digging, see if Attica has any connections that can get them to tell us who spilled, okay? I’ll also get in touch with the café on the lot and see if I can find out who was working that morning. For now, maybe lock your phone in your safe and take the rest of today to try to focus on you. Not Ransom, not strangers writing posts about your personal life, not the decisions you’ll have to make soon about what comes next—just try to forget it all and be a person who does whatever she wants today, okay?”
It’s tempting. It’s not like all those things will just go away if I ignore them, though. “What if Mars tries to get in touch?” I ask, my conversation with her from this morning about potentially walking away from theGirlreboot still fresh on my mind.
“Don’t worry about Mars,” she says. “I’ll give her a heads-up.” Shegives me an encouraging smile. “It’s only a few hours, yeah? Nothing is so pressing it can’t wait that long.”
She looks so earnest, so hopeful that her suggestion will help. “I really hope you’re right.”
Half an hour later, I’m in my tub, neck deep in lavender-scented bubbles. I can’t remember the last time I treated myself to time off like this, all alone in my own house with nothing on the schedule, with clearing my head my only goal. I have to admit, Bre was right. It’s not the worst way to spend an afternoon.
I take a sip of rosé as the most recent Halo album echoes from the tile. The music is chill in a way that calms my mind, yet with an undercurrent that brims with energy—a combination that leaves me feeling lighter than before. I’m soaking up the vibe in peace until the chorus on track seven brings that to a screeching halt.
You and me, me and you
There’s nothing we couldn’t do
In deepest dark or brightest light
In endless desert on the coldest night
You and me, me and you
Don’t know much, but this one thing’s true
The world is against us but how’s this their fight?
In our secret oasis, everything’s all right
Ugh, ugh.
Halo sings, every word a string that pulls me right back down to reality. Finally, the song ends and transitions to the next, but it isn’t much of an improvement—it’s a song called “Lullaby” that sounds calm on the surface but is all about anxiety and insomnia resulting from a sudden breakup. She’s halfway through the lyric “Finally let you in, after all this time / Now I’m all alone and there’s someone else in line / For my place beside you, sheets still warm / But silence sings my lullaby” whenI give up on my bath and run to change the music, not even bothering to towel off first.
So that was a bust.
I navigate out of Halo’s album, but once I’m in my song library, Millie’s face stares back at me—her latest singles are an acute reminder, too, of everything I’m trying to forget: theGirlreboot, the massive increase of attention and pressure she’s only just started to face in her career. She has no idea what she’s in for. She won’t be able to leave her house without an escort, won’t be able to make a single choice without strangers offering their unsolicited opinions. She’ll get messages she doesn’t want, drama when she blocks, backlash the second she makes an all-too-human mistake. Fame is an elusive diamond, sparkling and shimmering and just out of reach… until it’s not. By the time you’re close enough to hold it, it’s blinding.
I make my way downstairs after throwing on some soft pink leggings and a longline bra to match. I’m too restless to sit on the couch and watch a show, so I go to the kitchen instead. I rummage around for a snack, settling on mozzarella pearls with basil and cherry tomatoes. I’ve just popped the first bite in my mouth when I notice my beach blanket, still draped over one of the chairs, right where I dropped it when Ransom and I came inside after our splash war down in the surf.
It’s no use trying to escape. I can’t.
I wish he were here with me now, despite everything—there has to be another explanation for the article, the photo—and I wish I felt no doubt. I’ve got so many questions, and I’m itching to see if he’s texted me like he said he would. It’s not quite five o’clock, though, and I promised Bre I’d stay off my phone until six.
Screw it.
If I can’t escape, and I can’t forget, the least I can do is try my best to dwell on somethinggoodinstead. I grab my beach blanket, fill a bottle with chilled water, and head down to the exact spot on the sand where Ransom and I sat to watch the sunset. That night was entirely good, and no matter what happens next—no matter what’s happeningnow—the thought of it sends a warm rush all throughout my body. My thoughts flicker back to last night in the pool, just the two of us underthe moonlight, behind those thick ivy walls. His smile, his laugh—his hands—his lips—his—
I take a long drink of water; it goes down cool and smooth.
Last night was perfection. I need to stop thinking about it before the horror show that is today tarnishes the memory.
I tie my hair back into a ponytail, smooth out my blanket. It’s cool for late June, especially at this time in the afternoon—it’s one of those rare California days where it looks like a storm might be brewing off the coast. A layer of low gray clouds have started to roll in, filtering the late-afternoon sun.
It’s been ages since I did yoga, but I don’t have a better idea for how to distract myself for an entire hour, so I settle into a plank, then push up into downward-facing dog. It isn’t long before muscle memory takes over and I slip back into the daily practice I maintained half a decade ago. The breeze coming off the ocean, the rhythmic crash of waves, the occasional seabird swooping low over the water: it’s calming, all of it. For the first time all day, the tension melts from my neck and I’m finally able to just breathe.
I stay at it for so long I don’t realize how dark the sky has gotten until it breaks open. Raindrops fall fast and hard, soaking me in five seconds flat. Normally, I’d run inside immediately just to protect my phone, or my hair. Today, I let the rain wash over me, unhurried as I attempt to shake the sand from my blanket, watching as it peppers the ocean. It’s beautiful.
My house feels frigid after all that time outside, especially seeing as I’m drenched. I grab a kitchen towel, trying my best to dry off a little—and that’s when I hear the knocking on my front door, muffled by the storm.
