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“Just a minute,” you murmur to Leo. He gives you a thumbs-up, and wanders in the direction of his smoothie.

You have to sprint across the room to get your phone, not wanting to answer on the watch. In that space of time, the call has rung through and Sterling is already trying you again.

Something is very wrong.

Your heart in your throat, you swipe to answer the call.

“Ster?” you say. “I’m at the gym. What’s wrong?”

To his credit, Sterling is not crying. You’ve never seen or heard him cry, except a couple times from happiness on stage or after coming so hard that he probably communed with Jesus.

But this is not one of those occasions. He isn’t crying, and you are glad, because that might break you. But he’s about to. You can tell.

“Kai?” he says, his voice unsteady. “Are you alone?”

“I’m at the gym,” you repeat. “Leo’s the only one here with me. He’s across the room. What’s up?”

“Google me.”

At first, you don’t think you heard him right, so you ask him to say it again.

“ Google me, ” he says, his voice breaking. “Or look up the trending hashtags on Twitter. Just… do it now, Kai.”

You frown. “Do you want me to do it right now? With you on the phone?”

“No, you would have to put me on speaker. Just hang up. But call me right back.”

“O-o-kay,” you agree, mystified. “Give me a sec. Love you.”

He doesn’t reply, and the phone beeps to let you know that the call was disconnected.

You don’t know what you are expecting. Last time you checked—and it’s been a while—entering “Sterling Grayson” as a search query spit back millions of hits. The back of your mind knows that it has to be something really obvious, but you still wonder if Ster wants you to find a needle in a haystack.

You type his name into Safari, and hit search . Nothing happens. The screen stays white. You look at your phone’s corner, where the bars should be: you have terrible cellular reception in the gym, and you don’t know the Wi-Fi password. You sigh out loud.

“Leo, I’m sorry,” you call. “I need to do something, and it can’t wait. Gotta step outside for a sec.”

“Whatever you need,” he calls back .

Outside, the sun has just risen, and it’s already muggy as hell.

Just Florida being Florida. You hold your phone up to your face.

When you left the gym, your phone was able to connect to the cell towers, and the signal was strong enough to push through your results.

Squinting at your screen, your jaw drops.

Rolling Stone: Is Sterling Grayson “Over?” According to Twitter Hashtags, It’s True

Vanity Fair: #SterlingGraysonIsCancelledParty is Trending. Here’s Everything We Know

TMZ: CANCELLED! Sterling Grayson Embroiled in Shocking Scandal!

Entertainment Weekly: “He Won’t Recover From This.” Experts Weight In on Shocking Revelations About Grayson

People.com: Why #CancelSterlingNOW Is 2025’s Biggest Bombshell

The headlines go on and on, with any other hits on Sterling requiring scrolling way to the bottom of the page.

Uncomprehending, you click on Twitter, which everyone you know still refuses to call “X.” Just like Sterling intimated, he’s the top trending topic.

You click through, and see a number of hashtags explode like fireworks across your page, all having to do with Sterling being cancelled, over, or done.

Most of the tweets are gleeful, hateful, or both.

You go back, and click on one of the headlines. Scan the article quickly, gleaning the main points.

It takes two or three minutes for you to understand what you are seeing. When your brain finally connects the dots, following the breadcrumbs, your breath feels like it’s being squeezed out of your chest.

No. It can’t be.

With fingers shaking, you text Leo.

You: gtg. So so sorry. Talk soon. 911. Stick my gym bag in your car and I’ll get it later?

You are already unlocking your car as you cross the parking lot, your long legs making insane strides to get to the SUV as fast as humanly possible. Ignoring state law regarding mobile handsets and driving, you balance the phone on your ear as you start the car and fasten your seatbelt.

Sterling answers on the first ring.

“You saw it?” he says, his voice wavering.

“I saw it,” you confirm grimly. “I’m going home to pack. Send the plane over to Miami. If that’s going to take too long, I’ll Uber to MIA and grab a standby commercial flight. ”

“I need you, Kai.” God fucking damn it. He’s actually crying now. You are so glad this isn’t a video call. That you can’t see the tears rolling down his gorgeous face. “I’m so sorry. You were the first person I called.”

“I’m coming.” And then, with a confidence you don’t actually feel: “Don’t cry, baby. It’s going to be okay. I’ll be there soon.”

You have to hang up so that you don’t crash.

TO BE CONTINUED

Get the full story in Sterling’s half of the duet.