I took the whole three weeks of the trip off work, and though I probably could’ve been slotted back into the lineup early, I didn't even try. There was nowhere I wanted to be less right now than on stage wearing barely anything. There wasn't a cave dark or deep enough for me at this stage, so I settled for cycling between curling up under the covers in bed or doing the same thing on the couch. Kim didn't approve, and she took to coming over lots to check in on me. Since she still had to work, however, I got hours each day where Kim's disapproval couldn't reach me.

It was sad, but I was sad, so it seemed to fit the bill. I thought about trying to reach out to Chad so many times, whether through email or repeated comments on his YouTube page, or a freaking skywriter for all I cared. Sometimes the desperation gnawed so deep in my gut that I had my finger poised over send before I remembered that if I did that, something bad could happen to Kim. No risk, no matter how small, was worth it when it came to protecting my best friend. So I stayed away like those goons back in Hawaii told me to do, and I quietly broke.

The one urge I'd been militant about ignoring was the urge to look at Chad's most recent videos. I didn't know what I would be looking for or what I hoped to see, but I knew it was probably a mistake in any case. Even if my departure had shaken him, he presumably wouldn't show it on camera. He was good at putting on the skin of the man his fans wanted to see. Come rain or shine, Chad Harlan always had a smile on his face and a witty comment poised at the end of his tongue. That was just how he worked. It was why he was so good at what he did. And it was what would break me if I opened up his latest video and saw him having the time of his life.

I never imagined that the worst case scenario for this trip would end with my heart broken and a threat of harm hanging over my head. It was funny, in a way, because when I signed on, I thought worst case was that maybe I'd come back with a bit of a sunburn and vaguely unpleasant memories. I didn't realize I was going to have the time of my life, fall in love, and then have my heart broken to smithereens while simultaneously having the shit scared out of me. It was enough to make me never want to leave the house again.

Too bad the bills still needed to get paid. I had a few days left of leave, and then it would be back to shaking my ass for all of Vegas, and I'd have to paint on a smile and make it work. I could do it. I knew I could do it. But these few days of wallowing misery were mine to take as I pleased, and goddamnit, I was going to take them.

This was what I spent most of my time under the blankets doing: Being miserable. Thinking about Chad. And being one of society's least productive members. After a few days, when my heart felt raw from the constant abuse and my brain was exhausted from all the thought spirals, I began to wonder how to get myself out of it.

The answer, of course, was to do the thing I'd been dreading most. To rip that Band-Aid off and, whatever the result, move on with my goddamn life. I had to go to Chad's channel and see what he'd been up to since I left.

I poured myself a glass of wine, hunkered down on the couch, and cracked open my laptop on my knee.

Chad's YouTube channel was hard to look at first. I hadn't seen his face since I left and I'd nearly forgotten how handsome he was, how he glowed with life. I'd nearly forgotten how his smile sent butterflies careening around my ribcage like ricocheting bullets.

He'd posted a video four days prior, and I clicked on it with baited breath. The familiar upbeat music played through my speakers, and I chugged down a mouthful of wine as landscape shots of Oahu flashed across the screen. Then there was a shot of Chad driving, laughing and looking back at the camera. The seat beside him, the one I'd occupied for the first half of the trip, was occupied by someone else. Not just anybody, either.

Lori was back.

I watched the rest of the video in immobile horror. Shots of them were spliced together cliff jumping, hang gliding, sharing a beer while the sun set in the background. Each time I saw her face part of me died a little, and it was the specific part that had hoped that besides the obvious things holding us apart, one day Chad and I might be able to find each other again.

He'd replaced me. He'd replaced me the second I left. Had he called her up when he noticed I was missing? That didn't seem like something Chad would do, but if this video showed me anything, it was that I'd never really known him at all. I could barely sit through it and see the great time I was supposed to be having, the great guy I was supposed to be spending that time with, but I forced myself to make it to the end.

When the end credits rolled, I was tempted to slam the lid of my laptop down and try to forget the name Chad Harlan forever. Something stopped me though, a niggling feeling that something was off in the video. It was enough to make me chug the rest of my wine and press the replay button.

There he was laughing again, cruising down one of Oahu's many scenic drives. He spoke into the camera, describing what they were going to do that day. This was normally the part where his animation shined through, where he got the viewer just as excited about the adventure as he was. Something was missing.

I paused the video and pulled up the last one I was featured in, playing the first couple minutes of it.

How had I missed it? In comparison, there was a stark difference between how Chad looked in the videos. In the earlier video, he was bursting with light. With life. His eyes crinkled at the corners, his lips seemed eternally tipped up in a grin. In the later video, the only time he laughed was at the very beginning, and even that was nothing in comparison to his laughing in the other video. His eyes were dead. At least, they seemed dead to me. Their glassy stare reminded me of a shark's, and while I knew I could just be seeing what I wanted to see, it felt real.

But what did that mean? Did it mean anything?

The lock on the front door grated and a second later Kimberley called out to me in a high, flowery voice. "Hello, my darling!"

"I'm in the living room!" I called, clapping my computer closed and shoving it into the cushions. Kim wouldn't approve of my latest bout of self-sabotage.

She came down the hall and dropped her bag on the kitchen table, already rattling off about her day. "I don't think I've ever met a ruder human being than I met today, and that's saying a lot. Do you ever just meet someone you want to rat them out to their parents on?" She looked at me for the first time and stopped what she was doing, concern creasing her brow. "What's the matter? You're white as a sheet."

I gulped. "I don't know."

"You don't know what's the matter?"

"I don't know why I'm white as a sheet. I feel fine."

Her eyes tracked down to the empty wine glass still clutched in my hand and her lips pursed. Kim walked over to the couch and sat down, features softening.

"Babe, talk to me. I'm worried about you." She shifted around and frowned. "What the hell am I sitting on?"

I shot out a hand to stop her, but Kim pulled my laptop from the cushions. I should have played it cooler. If I had, she wouldn't know that whatever was affecting me had something to do with the stowed electronic.

"What am I going to see on here?" she asked. "Is it something weird?"

I was caught between telling her it was something very weird and our friendship would never be the same if she looked at it and telling the truth. I'd never been a great liar. I gestured for her to open it, and when she did her mouth flattened into a line.

"You're watching two of Chad's videos at once?" she asked. "That seems a bit overkill."

I scratched my head. "I was comparing them."

"For what?"

This was a good opportunity to see if my theory held up. Maybe it was a good thing I'd been discovered.

"Play the older one first. Then play the new one."

She eyed me skeptically but did as I said. I couldn't see the screen from where I sat but recognized my voice right away. Then came Chad's, laughing as he spoke. I closed my eyes and pretended I was back in that moment.

Kim played the second video. Less than a minute in and she was scowling. "Who's this bitch?"

I didn't need to see the screen to know she was asking about Lori.

"His ex-girlfriend," I replied. "Or, I suppose, his current girlfriend."

"That's what you've been comparing?" She paused the video and gave me a quizzical look.

"No, not really. What else do you see apart from the fact that the girl changes?"

Kim played the video again and studied it with a keen eye. I loved her for taking this so seriously. At this point, she was the only thing keeping me from going insane.

A moment later, Kim paused the video and looked back at me. She seemed to be weighing her words.

"What don't you want to say?" I asked.

Kim sighed and closed the laptop, passing it over to me. "I think the obvious thing here is that Chad looks fucking miserable in the second video. Is that what you wanted me to see?"

I nodded.

"Thought so." She screwed up her mouth in thought. "Babe, I know that you miss him, but I don't think fixating on his videos is going to help."

"I know, I know." I sighed. "It changes absolutely nothing.”

I mean, sad eyes or not, I've been gone for five minutes, and he's already replaced me. That's gotta mean something."

Kim nodded grimly. "How do you feel?"

I took a deep breath and thought about her question, but couldn't answer with the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway. I was too raw to admit my utter devastation, too shell-shocked to admit my disbelief. Instead, I just said, "I feel like it's time for me to move on."