Chapter 11

"You are the most important person in my life, Gravity. Do you realize that?"

His forehead furrows as he looks at me apprehensively through his thick lashes.

"You are for me too."

"Countdown?"

He smiles, noticing that the clock has changed to 11:59 PM.

"Ten..."

I love you.

"Nine..."

You are so important to me.

"Eight..."

I want you to be happy.

"Seven..."

If there was any way to show you how my heart feels when I’m with you...

"Six..."

Without you, my days are cold.

"Five..."

Without you, everything turns gray.

"Four..."

Without you, I feel like I’m going to fall apart.

"Three..."

Without you, I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.

"Two..."

You are my home.

"One..."

You are my safe place."

He smiles—a wide smile that nearly reaches the tips of his ears.

Neil runs his thumb over my lips, seemingly tracing their outline, and with every part of me he tries to memorize, the brighter his eyes shine.

Then, suddenly, the perfect vision I have distorts, transporting me to another scene.

I feel the rough asphalt as I run. Even though I’m wearing sneakers, it’s as if the texture penetrates through the sole and reaches the bottoms of my feet.

I keep running. I recognize the street—it’s long and dark—but no matter how much I want to stop and look back, my body forces me to keep my eyes on my goal: my house.

I trip over my own feet, and a mocking voice ridicules me for being such a coward. I start running again. I want to scream. I feel my voice tangled at the top of my throat, and I fight, struggling internally, desperate to shout "help," but it doesn’t come out. It’s trapped, and it’s terrifying.

I hear the gunshot and Neil’s voice echoing through me in a lethal scream.

I feel moisture in the palm of my hands. I look down, trying to understand what’s causing the sensation, and I see blood. There’s so much blood on my hands that it’s impossible to find a single spot of skin untouched by it.

I fall again. This time, I try to break my fall by putting my hands in front of me, but my body collides with something soft yet cold, and when I realize what it is, I’m lying on top of my boyfriend’s lifeless body.

"Gravity?"

My eyes snap open, and I jolt forward, feeling my breath searing my lungs. Sweat weighs on my temples, sliding down to trace my jawline.

I rub my eyelids with my fists until my vision comes back into focus, and the image of Theresa holding a steaming mug of coffee sharpens before me.

The creases on her forehead tell me exactly what I feared the most has happened.

"I think you were having a nightmare. Are you okay?"

I glance around, realizing I fell asleep on the couch.

"Shit." I push my hair back, the dampness mixing with the sweat on my hand. "Yeah, I’m fine. Did I wake you?"

Tess lets out an awkward chuckle, and only then do I look at her more closely. She’s wearing her kickboxing workout clothes.

"No, but you were groaning, and I didn’t know how to wake you up from a nightmare. I called you about four times before you finally woke up."

She hands me the coffee mug, and I take it, drinking the first sip as if it were water.

"Does it happen often?" She studies my expression, trying to see if I’ll lie or tell the truth.

"No, I almost never have them."

And it’s true. I almost never have them, but when I do, they destroy me.

I’ve woken up nauseous some nights and couldn’t hold back the vomiting for long. Those are the worst—the ones where the torment stops being just mental and becomes physical. They’re visceral because the dream clashes with reality, and I’m brutally hit by a past I’ve worked so hard to convince myself—and everyone else—that never existed.

I shift my attention back to Tess, forcing my lips into a smile. She, however, takes a moment to return it, still deciding whether she believes me or not.

I built a new life for myself when I moved to Humperville. I’m attached to it, even if the nightmares come now and then to remind me of where I came from. I’m willing to keep my masks up, everything I’ve done and worked hard to be—just like a chameleon—to adapt, protect, and, most of all, hide my scars.

I shape my features into tranquility, and I see Tess’s begin to soften. I did it.

"Are you coming today?"

She heads back to the kitchen—I assume to refill her coffee. My pajamas are a baby doll set with a short pair of shorts and a thin-strapped crop top. It’s entirely lilac with white polka dots. The sweat has dampened the fabric between my breasts.

"Yes!" I reply excitedly, already pushing myself off the couch.

Luckily, the nights are warm, and I didn’t feel the need to cover myself. My Saturday mornings with Tess are the only thing that truly keeps me stable—or at least, they were before Magda fired me. That lazy cow did everything she could to make my week miserable.

"While you’re getting changed, I’m going to call Chase. I haven’t heard from him since last night—I want to know if everything’s okay over there."

I head to my room, but my attention focuses on the other side of the hallway, behind a closed door. I can hear a few words like "now?" and also "why?"

I finish putting on my top, and Tess knocks on my bedroom door. Harper has a big obsession with colors, and I have to admit, sometimes my eyes hurt from the fluorescent pink or green bedspreads. That’s probably the only thing really hard to adjust to here.

I want to buy my own bedding, but with my shitty salary working for Magda, all my money went to expenses. New York definitely has a higher cost of living, but there’s also the fact that I’m no longer letting Darnell pay my bills. That’s because Andie is their priority now. She needs to be. And I don’t want Dannya to give up anything else for me.

"So, this is kind of funny." Tess begins, and I turn to look at her over my shoulder. She’s leaning against the doorframe, watching me pull the tank top over my head. "My dad requested a meeting with you."

"With me?" Just as there’s a wrinkle between her eyebrows, one forms on mine too. "Why?"

"He didn’t say. But they’re waiting for you at the record label."

My eyes narrow, filled with curiosity.

"Now?"

"Yeah, now. I asked if I could be there, but he said he needs to talk to you in private. I think it’s about what happened." Tess taps the corner of her phone against her palm, her eyes losing focus. "Are you going?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Considering that your photo assaulting one of the most famous guys at the moment is spreading faster than a pandemic—yeah, you could choose to ignore it. But, Vity..." Tess steps in, coming closer. "I read some comments, and in a few, Humperville residents revealed your name. So, it’s just a matter of time—if not hours—before you’re more involved in this than any of us."

"I spent a whole damn year hiding from this..." I murmur to myself, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Who the hell took those pictures?"

"Someone desperate for money. A photo of those guys is worth a lot, but a picture of them in that situation is worth even more. I know you hate this attention—God..." She sighs, looking up and blinking hard. "I can understand better than anyone how much you hate being exposed like this, but there are some things we can’t avoid. And your past with Ashton is one of them. Someone will want to sell information about you two in Paris, and they’ll pay a lot for it. Isn’t it better if the fans find out from you?"