***Holden Young***
The hotel was silent. A silence that seemed to swallow me whole, giving me a pounding headache, and making me want to run away from myself every time I noticed it.
The hangover was killing me these days, and the problem was that I didn’t know if it was just the alcohol or if my body was collapsing under all the shit I was feeling.
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, seeing my red, sunken eyes—dull and empty.
If Alissa saw me, she would be disgusted. I thought about that every day since I sank into this. I sighed and closed my eyes.
Why the hell did I still think about her? Why did I still care? She had already moved on with her damn life, signed that contract without hesitation, and discarded me like I was a mistake she needed to erase.
But I couldn’t erase her the same way, and I felt like the biggest idiot for it.
"You think too much, Young. That’s why you always look like shit."
Chloe’s voice made me open my eyes and turn towards the bathroom door.
She was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking at me with that smug smile that made her seem like she thought she was smarter than everyone.
She was wearing only a loose robe, exposing her pale skin under the yellow light of the room.
"Who let you in?" my voice came out hoarse as I asked.
She rolled her eyes and turned, heading towards my bed.
"Cyrus. He’s freaking out downstairs because the band’s about to walk out. But I told him I could handle you, reassured him."
"Funny. I didn’t even know I needed fixing."
"You’re a disaster."
"And you always have an opinion on everything, don’t you?"
"I’m saying this because I know what it’s like."
I stared at her for a second. She didn’t know. She was perfect. Annoyingly flawless.
"What it’s like to what?"
"To be consumed by all of this. The fame, the expectations, the feeling that everyone wants something from you, but no one gives a damn. I understand, Holden."
"So philosophical. We both know you’re the company’s poster girl, Chloe. You say the right things, and are always in the right place."
Chloe looked at me with obvious boredom and stood up. I gave a dry laugh because she couldn’t exactly deny it.
"Holden, stop acting like the misunderstood tough guy. You’re killing yourself, and everyone can see it. I do what I have to do without whining, you know why?" She leaned toward me, the air heavy between us.
"Because I’m a woman, sweetheart. One mistake, one comment, one wrong look, and they already have the ammo to call me a slut and destroy my reputation."
She sighed and came over to the bed, stopping in front of me. I remained lying down, staring at the ceiling, until I felt her weight next to me, sinking into the mattress.
"I can help you, even though you don’t deserve it."
I rolled my eyes because I knew she couldn’t.
"How generous, Chloe. Look, I admire your speech and recognize it, believe me. I don’t agree with how things are different for us, but I don’t do all this just because I want to—I just don’t remember how to get out anymore."
She gave a sly laugh, shaking her head.
"I’m not talking about therapy, idiot. It’s something different, but it works."
Before I could process or try to understand, Chloe slid her body on top of me, her hands resting on my chest.
My body tensed, feeling her warmth over me; it was different.
She smiled, as if satisfied to see that it affected me, even minimally.
"You just need to forget all this crap for a bit. I don’t know, you need to focus your attention on something other than these drugs."
Her fingers slid over the fabric of my shirt, slowly moving down my abdomen while her eyes stayed fixed on mine. Frighteningly blue, too deep.
Her legs wrapped around my hips; she fit perfectly over me, pressing her pelvis against mine to make sure I was hard beneath her.
I knew what was happening, and I knew I should push her away.
But the truth was, for a second, I considered it—not because I wanted Chloe; I never saw her that way—but because I wanted not to want Alissa.
I closed my eyes when I felt her mouth on my neck, the sweet scent of her hair intoxicating my senses as I let it happen.
I took the first step, running my hand over her smooth, freshly moisturized skin. I liked the smell—it helped me accept it better. She slid the robe off her body while still straddling me, exposing her breasts in my direction as if they were a trophy.
It seemed to be something she was proud of.
They might serve for a moment, but every time she moved against me, every time she pushed her breasts toward my mouth in the hope of igniting my desire, I remembered that nothing had ever made me as thirsty as seeing Alissa naked in front of me.
But I went on, tasted that skin in my mouth, thinking I could fool myself.
I could pretend, right? And I tried.
But then Chloe whispered against my mouth just as I was about to sink my tongue into hers again:
"She’s not here anymore, Holden. But I can be good for you."
It was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over me. My body reacted before my mind. My hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her away abruptly.
She looked at me, surprised. "What’s wrong?"
"This was a mistake."
She stayed there, sitting, her robe slipping off her shoulders as she tried to cover herself, her expression more irritated than anything else now.
"You want to self-destruct, but you can’t even do that right."
I ran a hand over my face, trying to organize my thoughts. I fixed my hair and grabbed my wallet and jacket from the couch.
"You don’t understand, Chloe. And you don’t need to."
"Oh, I understand. You think you’re being loyal to someone who’s already moved the hell on."
She was right; that hurt, but it didn’t matter. I simply couldn’t. It was true.
She realized I wasn’t going to argue, wasn’t going to fight back, so she sighed as if tired of me.
"One day, you’ll realize you’re alone, Holden. There’s nothing left for you."
I looked at her one last time before leaving the room.
Maybe I’d already realized that a long time ago.