My Monday morning drive takes far too long. Or I couldn't sleep all night because I kept thinking about Mal–induced grumpiness is affecting my ability to observe time.

He's taking up too much space in my head.

Today is going to be a busy day. It's one of five busy days I have to get through before I'm done working for Danielle. This is the home stretch. It's not the time to slack off.

After I park, I linger in my car, taking deep breaths. They bring oxygen into my body but they don't do much to clear my mind. That's no good. We have a huge shoot this afternoon, one where we're going to try to cram a five-piece band into this tiny studio.

I don't have space for irritation or exhaustion, much less this boy-induced scatterbrain.

After one more deep breath, I get out of my car. It's early, but it's nice. The sun is shining. The air is temperate rather than the usual even Satan turns on the air conditioner at this temperature heat of the Valley in August.

I slide my key into the lock but it doesn't turn.

Huh?

This is the right key.

I try again. The key slides in but the handle won't turn. The door isn't stuck. I try the bottom lock. This time, my key won't get halfway through the lock.

Am I so in the clouds that I'm at the wrong place? No, this is our address, that's my parking space, the door is still labeled Danielle Kubbie.

I'm about to find my cell and call Danielle when the door pulls open.

Danielle stares at me, fire in her dark eyes. "You have some fucking nerve."

"What?" I take a step backwards. There's fury in her eyes. The locks are changed. She's pissed at me. She has legitimate reasons. Maybe even for this much rage.

"You play sweet, Lacey. And I fucking bought it. I should know better. I've seen how it goes."

"I don't know—"

"Bullshit. You might as well spit in my face. Poaching my client is one thing, but the cowardice?" She holds out her cell, the screen pointed to me. It's already playing the Hurt Me, Baby video. The one I cut together. It's on the band's YouTube channel. "This isn't my cut. Not even close."

I swallow hard.

"I thought maybe it was a mistake. I know you have that passion. Maybe you cut the video together for fun. To see what it would be like if you were special enough to be the pretty girl in the rock star's bed."

"I didn't—"

"No, you didn't need a video, did you?" Danielle shakes her head. "You really think you can fuck your way into a career?"

"It's not like that."

"It's exactly like that. You cut my video. You fuck the lead singer. And then you're shooting their next video. You think I'm stupid?"

"It's not."

Danielle takes a step backwards. "You stole my client."

"You didn't listen to what he wanted."

"You didn't give me a chance."

"You wouldn't have." I stare back at her. Maybe I was wrong to take Danielle's client without her permission, but we both know she would have taken her vision to her grave.

Her eyes narrow. She looks to the cell, watches Mal pin my arms above my head. She shakes her head and hurls the phone to the ground.

The screen shatters with a crack.

She glares at me. "I can torch your career with a few phone calls. You're young and pretty, but you're not going to be able to fuck your way into every job for long."

"It's not like that."

"Right. You love him. You need him. You'd do anything for him." She rolls her eyes. "Please, sweetie. I've heard it all before."

I don't know why I feel so compelled to explain it to her. Danielle can think I'm a client-stealing bitch, but I can't stand her thinking I slept with Mal for the opportunity.

"Get out of my face, you stupid whore." She steps backwards and slams the door shut.

I stare at it for a moment. I should have known this would happen. I should have quit earlier. I should have done something to protect my heart instead of letting it beat for Mal.

Muscle memory takes over. I get into my car. I drive to the nearest place that makes sense, the Starbucks on Ventura, the one with the tiny parking lot.

I get in line.

The barista rings up my usual order—an iced green tea for me and a latte with two pumps of caramel and three of vanilla for Danielle.

"No, just the tea. Sorry." I hand over my credit card.

She smiles at me. "Boss isn't in today? Nice." She swipes my card and hands it back over.

Slowly, I slide it into my wallet and place that into my purse. The whole thing is vibrating. No, that's my phone.

The barista drops off my tea. "Enjoy."

I nod a thank you. The drink is cold against my fingers. It's already wet with condensation. I sit at the table in the corner. I pull the paper off my straw and stab the plastic lid. I suck the freezing cold drink into my lips.

My teeth chatter.

Slowly, I come back to my senses. I'm done with my job a few days early. That's okay. With the payment for the edit, I have enough for the next month or two. The payment for the video is coming. That's enough for the rest of the year if I cut back on takeout.

I'll be okay, financially.

But there's all this dread in the pit of my stomach. Danielle is vengeful. She's out for blood.

Can she do something to torch my career?

With her reputation as a diva, it seems unlikely that anyone will take her side.

I steady enough to pull out my phone. It's flush with texts from friends, old and new. Even Carrie has seen the video.

And Adam.

I reply to a few of the wow, Lacey, you look great, congratulations texts. I ignore the ones asking for money or connections. I ignore the ones seething with jealousy.

I text Carrie back, asking about her summer program, but I don't get a response. She must be in class.

My drink is still freezing, but now I can taste it.

Adam's text bores into me.

Adam: That was your shoot?

It's simple. Matter of fact. He still doesn't have any interest in what I do with my body.

That still hurts.

Lacey: No, a different one. That was me standing in for Danielle.

Adam: You're a natural.

Lacey: Thanks.

Adam: You're credited as the editor.

Lacey: I edited it.

Adam: It was good.

Lacey: Thank you.

Adam: I'm proud of you, Lacey. I miss you like crazy, but I get it. I get that it wasn't working and I don't hold leaving against you.

Lacey: You don't?

Adam: No. I've been talking to someone to make sense of it. I have a lot to work out, but I want you to know it wasn't your fault. You're beautiful and sexy and you were right to leave. I was ignoring what you needed. I didn't deserve you.

I don't know how to reply to that. He's right and he's wrong and I feel even more shook up reading Adam's text than I do thinking of the look on Danielle's face.

Adam: There's all this gossip about you and Mal.

Lacey: There is?

Adam: Yeah. And Carrie says you have a secret fuck buddy.

Lacey: She told you?

Adam: I begged. It was pathetic. Don't hold it against her.

Lacey: She broke the girl code. I'll have to do something.

Adam: Be merciful. For me.

Lacey: Maybe.

Adam: Are you with him?

My fingers type yes then no. I can't explain it to myself. How can I explain it to my ex-boyfriend? He doesn't want to know I'm fucking the man who took the number one spot in my celebrity spank bank.

Lacey: We're having fun.

Adam: Is it fun?

Lacey: Mostly.

Adam: Are you happy?

Lacey: It's complicated.

Adam: I hope it's not too complicated. You deserve to be happy, Lacey.

I can see the heartbreak in his words. When I close my eyes, I can see it on his face.

But this is good.

We're both moving on.

Lacey: You do too, just with someone else.

Adam: I'm not sure anyone will stack up, but I'm not giving up hope.

I set the phone down to catch my breath.

The sting of breaking Adam's heart turns to relief. My shoulders relax. My breath eases. I suck my iced tea through my straw without clenching my teeth.

Adam hurt me.

It's okay to admit that.

It's okay to tell him.

It's okay to demand more for myself.

To demand what I want.

My damn phone buzzes again. It buzzes all the way to the edge of the table. A call.

I bite my tongue and brace for the worst—fuck knows what Danielle has done by now.

But it's not Danielle's number. It's Mal's.

I answer the call and bring my cell to my ear. "Hey."

"Hey." His voice is that same deep, steady tone. It soothes something deep inside me. "You know?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. The tech guy at our label got some great opportunity with a YouTube feature."

"You didn't know?"

"No."

I dig my fingers into the back of my phone. There isn’t a doubt in my mind. I trust Mal. I trust him not to hurt me, not on purpose. "He was right. It has a million views already."

"Fuck, really?" He's quiet for a moment then his voice lifts. "Shit. Don't read the comments."

"You should never read YouTube comments. Everyone knows that."

"A lot of guys want to fuck you."

"Old news." I try to say it teasingly, but it doesn't quite come across. It's weird, thinking of strangers watching the video and wanting me. It makes sense in the abstract, but to actually imagine some guy across the country thinking of me the way I used to think of Mal—

It's makes my stomach clench. But— "It's exciting, knowing people are appreciating my work. Even if most of them are more appreciative of our bodies."

"You get used to it."

"I, uh… Danielle found out. She fired me."

"Fuck. You okay?"

My words catch in my throat. I'm not okay, but there are too many reasons. "Are you?"

"I'll feel better taking care of you."

"But you—"

"But nothing. Where are you?"

"Mal…"

His voice drops to the demanding tone. "Where are you, Lacey?"

"The Starbucks on Ventura. The second one off the freeway."

"Stay there. I'm coming."

"There's traffic."

He chuckles. "We live in Los Angeles. There's always traffic."

"You live in Orange County and I live in Long Beach."

"Still the greater Los Angeles area."

"Mal…"

"Yeah?"

I don't know what to say. I want you. I miss you. I need you. How can I need you when you're going through all this?

His voice shifts back to demanding. "Stay there."

I bite my tongue.

"Promise."

The need in his voice calls my attention. "I promise."