Page 26 of Everything About You

This is like that nightmare where you show up to school naked, but a million times worse. My stomach plummets so fast I could

literally be sick all over the floor of the Louvre right now, though I quickly become aware that would make this entire situation

that much more humiliating, so I fight a gag.

How did I make such a stupid mistake? Now thousands of people have seen this photo of an intern making a peace sign in front

of the Venus de Milo —there is no way anyone would think it’s anything other than a mistake, given how off-brand and unprofessional it is.

“That’s... that can’t be.”

“What is it?” Rhodes asks.

I’m deleting the story as he looks over at the screen.

He exhales. “Shit...”

“Shit is right, Rhodes.” My voice cracks and I shake my head. “This is terrible. Yvette might kill me. Or even worse, they

might fire me. I’m going to be sent back to Florida on the first flight they can book.”

Gaze unfocused and wandering, Rhodes reaches for the back of his neck. “How did this—”

“I don’t know, there was this error screen on the last story I posted, and I just pushed it through, I didn’t triple-check

that one.”

My heart is beating a thousand miles per minute. I simultaneously feel like my skin is on fire, scorching hot, and like I

am submerged in ice, prickly frostbite turning me blue. I feel clammy and like I can’t inhale enough—if my lungs are balloons,

they’re leaking, deflated, with no chance of holding any air. My usual breathing exercise doesn’t work.

“I can’t breathe.”

Rhodes grabs my shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be fine.”

I shake my head, panic setting in. I’m consumed by a fear that if I can’t catch my breath soon I’ll suffocate. “No, I really

mean it—I can’t breathe.”

“Okay, it’s okay.” Rhodes takes my other shoulder and looks around. His eyes finally land on mine. “Milo, you’re okay. You’re

all right.”

Tears well in my eyes. I can’t swallow, can’t focus. Everything is going hazy.

“Hey, hey.” Rhodes says, his face blanching. “Has this ever happened before?”

I nod, tears spilling down my face. It feels like I’m drowning. Like the room is becoming exponentially smaller each time

I desperately attempt to inhale and still draw in no breath.

“When?”

“Semifinal,” I wheeze.

Rhodes’s eyes bug, as if he’s beginning to understand, but I can’t read much more of his expression as everything becomes blurrier and blurrier.

“How did you come out of it?” He squeezes my shoulders.

I only give a weak shrug.

I’m convinced there’s no way my chest can withstand this much longer. I’m more than just lightheaded, I’m beginning to feel

tingling in my lips and cheeks.

He draws in a deep breath. “I know you must have figured it out before the match, because there’s no way you’d let this stop

you, Milo.”

I nod quickly.

“You did, huh? You figured it out before your match?”

I nod. “I had to play.”

“That’s right. And you got through this back then. Because you...”

“Because I had to play ,” I repeat. “I don’t have that now. I just—”

“You have the gala,” Rhodes offers.

I sob.

“Shit, okay. Not helpful. Right, okay... so then look. Here’s the thing, Milo. My father was actually a bit of a head case,

did you know?” Rhodes smiles. “He’d absolutely crush practices or matches that were a given, but if they weren’t favored,

he’d clam up. Fuck the whole thing up, really. All in his head.”

I try to swallow, though my mouth is too dry. “Is this supposed to be helpful?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten to the helpful bit yet, I was just trying to help you relate a bit.”

“By calling me a head case and implying this whole thing is in my head?”

Rhodes grins. “Exactly. Well, no, not the head case part. Sorry. I just meant he would get really anxious. You’re not a head

case. Fuck.”

“Great. So far, off to a great start.”

“The point is, he’d just go absolutely mad. Honestly, he even threw up on the sidelines once. Was in the paper.”

I nod. “I would love if we could get to the motivational part.”

“One of his coaches taught him how to cope at Armoury, during his academy days. Basically, he had this technique, which is

called Everything’s Shit.”

I groan. “Rhodes, I literally can’t breathe and this—”

“No, really. Listen. You can approach fear of failure any number of ways, but this one always seemed to work for him. I mean,

look at his career; worked well enough, didn’t it?” He places his palms together. “You just have to ask yourself, ‘What is

the worst thing that’s going to happen?’ and you work your way down that spiral until you get to the very end, and then you

realize everything’s shit, but it’s actually not as bad as you think.”

I blink.

“Are you fucking with me?”

He shakes his head quickly, holding up his palms. “No, I swear. This will help you get to a place of believing everything

is going to be fine. Because at the end of the day, it always is.”

I imagine how this might be appealing for one of the most famous living athletes and his family, but it sounds like a way

to spiral down a rabbit hole of worst-case scenarios until this panic attack finally does me in for good.

“I don’t think Everything’s Shit is for me.”

“Everything’s Shit is for everyone.” He squeezes my wrists. “So, go on. Do it. Everything’s shit. What’s your worst-case scenario?”

My whole face feels numb at this point and I’m struggling to even focus on what he’s saying, but I do my best.

“I’d have to go back to Citrus Harbor and tell everyone I failed and be humiliated.”

Rhodes nods. “Right. Would your life be over?”

“Yes.”

“Would it actually?”

“No. I guess it wouldn’t.”

“What could you do?”

“I could find something else,” I say. “Go to college and figure something else out.”

“Right, because you’re eighteen. And you’re already doing so well for yourself. You would be okay. Better than okay, I bet.”

Somehow, as if by some miraculous breakthrough, I believe him.

It truly must be magic. I don’t know if any one person has ever made me feel so instantly calm, as if a wave washed over me

and brought back feeling to my nerves and cleared my vision. This belief Rhodes has in me is enough to make me believe in

myself again.

I draw in the biggest breath I possibly can, holding it for a moment before exhaling. I repeat this a few times, and it feels

like I’m emerging from ice. It feels like I’m being brought back to life.

“Look,” Rhodes says. “Even if everything’s shit, you’re going to figure it out, Milo. You made it here in the first place.”

“Thank you, Rhodes.” I wipe the tears from my face.

He goes to speak, but his eyes widen at something behind me. When I turn around, I see it’s Yvette. She’s storming over, black

ball gown twisting with each step.

“What are you two doing down here?”

Rhodes steps forward. “We were taking photos and—”

She holds up her phone, and I have to blink several times, because it’s not adding up—I deleted the story.

“Milo, what is this?”

“It was a mistake, but I deleted it.”

“This is a screenshot, Haydée has already taken it down. I can only assume this was a very careless mistake, but it is one

that is going to cost you nonetheless. Do you have any idea how many people have already seen this? We are trying to think

of how we can possibly address this should we start receiving inquiries. If stakeholders and shareholders find out our apprentices

are abusing access to our marketing channels this way—”

Rhodes takes a step forward. “That wasn’t Milo’s fault. It was mine.”

Yvette and I both look to him.

“What?” she asks.

He nods. “I took that photo, and I should have paid attention to what I was uploading, but I was going too quickly.”

Yvette narrows her eyes. “You posted it?”

“I wasn’t being careful. It was so stupid. I’m so sorry.”

We both know the consequences for Rhodes will be minimal, but I can’t believe he’s doing this.

“Well.”

Yvette’s eyes wander the empty hall. “We will discuss this on Monday. For now, I suggest you both get back to creating content.

And from now on, Haydée and Zoe will approve every post before it goes out.”

“It won’t happen again,” I offer.

Rhodes nods. “Really. My apologies.”

Yvette walks away, and my stomach is in knots.

When the coast is clear, I want to sink into the ground.

“Rhodes, thank you. But why did you do that?”

He just shrugs. “Honestly, I’m not too worried about it.”

“But that’s kind of a huge mistake,” I say. “I made a mockery of—”

“You didn’t make a mockery of anything,” Rhodes says. “You were in an expensive tuxedo at the Louvre, this wasn’t a scandalous

photo or something.”

My stomach lurches at that. “I just can’t believe you took the blame. You didn’t have to do that.”

He takes a step forward. “I know. But nothing will happen to me.” He lifts his shoulders and smirks. “Nepo baby perks.”

“I should have never said that.”

“Perhaps not, but perhaps you’re right after all. We both know Yvette will just tell me to be more careful.”

I exhale. It’s a long, deep breath. In fact, it isn’t enough. So, I take a deep breath in through my nose for four seconds,

hold it for four seconds, and then exhale through my mouth for four seconds.

“Dad taught us that one too,” Rhodes says. He cocks his head. “You’re always so tense.”

“I know.” I inhale and hold it. After I’ve let the breath out, I shrug. “I think it’s a personality trait, at this point. I’m never calm. And it’s, like, the most annoying thing. Sometimes I just—”

Rhodes blinks. “Sometimes you what?”

“I don’t know. A lot of things. But, anyway, thank you. I can’t ever tell you how much I appreciate you doing that. I think

my time at Maison Dauphine might have been up, even.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Nah. Doubt they’d sack you like that. But now we don’t have to worry about it. I’m

glad to help. I’d like to keep you around, after all.”

“You would?”

Rhodes takes a step closer. “Milo, you are one funny guy.”

“Why do you say that?”

Before I get an answer, he lifts his hand to my chin and leans down, his mouth finding mine. My eyes fall shut, my body goes

still, and then our lips melt into each other with ease. His other hand finds the small of my back and he pulls me in close

as I take his face in one palm and rest my other on his chest. The kiss is slow and tender and so perfect like it’s just been

waiting for us to discover it.

This kiss belongs here, in the Louvre.

We break apart and he rests his forehead against mine, those blue eyes magic.

My heart swells and there is a delicate tension, like a golden string between us I don’t want to test. I stand still, his

heartbeat steady against my palm, and he nuzzles his face into the other, kissing my skin and then raising his brows.

“Was that okay?” he asks, though he knows the answer, which is oftentimes Rhodes’s way.

“More than okay.” Then I blush. “I mean, it was really good.”

He grins, licks his lips, and leans in again.

As we kiss, I know this changes everything, but I’m swept up in the romance of this city.