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The photographer.

That person has a photo of me holding hands with Valeria Sullivan. If the camera had audio, that person could also have me, on film, admitting we’re dating.

Which could go public.

Which means my family could see it.

I drop my hand a millisecond faster than Valeria does.

“You fucked a former assistant?” Steven screams at Valeria. “This? This is your way of keeping it on the D.L.? Do you even know if she’s over twenty-one?”

Valeria stands ramrod straight, pissed off. But tears reflect off her eyes in the light. “Of course I know she’s over twenty-one! How fucking stupid do you think I am? And I don’t remember there being anything in my contract or in any of our talks about you all having any control over who I date.” She looks at me, and it’s clear her rage has not melted away. “We’re at a party where everyone knows I’m gay. Bad timing is bad timing, but—”

Steven throws his hands in the air. “I can’t fucking believe you! You’ve known her since she was an assistant! How long has this been going on? How many favors have you done for her in exchange for sex?”

“None! I’ve done no favors in exchange for sex! She’s talented!”

“She’s been keeping it super on the D.L., Steven,” Wyatt adds. “It’s okay. I doubt that photographer even has anything.”

Steven turns to Wyatt. Slowly. He seems even angrier now than he was with Valeria.

“You knew about this?”

Wyatt goes full deer in headlights. “I mean, we knew she was gay. I don’t—”

Steven gets right in Wyatt’s face. “I have one rule with Valeria! One fucking rule, and you don’t keep me updated? And your friend too?”

Another moment passes. Steven turns to me. His eyes dart between me, Wyatt, and Valeria.

“Did you set my fucking client up with your underage friend?”

“I’m not underage!” I exclaim. “And nothing bad happened! No one has ever seen us!”

“And you want to get your sugar baby a festival tour?” Bass says, grabbing on to Valeria’s shoulder. “What do you think people will think of that? I told you. If you think—”

“I’m so fucking done with this!” Valeria yells. “Fuck my career. Fuck all of you. I need some air.”

And she just walks away.

And with tears burning in my eyes, my insides melting, I follow her like a lost puppy. I don’t know what else to do.

Valeria weaves in and out of the thick crowds like she’s been doing it for years.

I just get locked in between the buffet table and some mingling P.A.s. I don’t know what happened with the photographer. I don’t know whether Steven is literally going to beat the shit out of Wyatt. I don’t know where Valeria went. I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell Romy I can’t pay rent.

Then my phone lights up.

It’s a text from Romy.

HOLY SHIT LUNA HOLY SHIT HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE AGENT SAW MY SHOW AND WANTS A MEETING. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

If my insides were melting before, now I can feel them gushing through me, making puddles in my shoes.

An agent wants to work with Romy on her plays. Romy worked a non-stress-inducing job, focused on her art, worked hard, and it happened. I nearly killed myself and connived my way into getting the most incredible connection of my life, and I just blew it because I was upset Valeria wasn’t admitting we were dating. How can I be doing everything so goddamn wrong?

I’m such a fucking idiot.

My phone lights up with one more notification.