by Hayes Grier
“Hayes…” Violet turned to him, her eyes welling. He’d moved away from her, his eyes wide open in disbelief, darting from TJ to Lydia to Violet.
“Let me explain.”
“So it’s true,” he said slowly, as if every word was an effort to get out. “You wrote about the dog shelter and all the stuff I wanted to keep quiet.”
“I didn’t mean—” Violet began.
“You betrayed my trust,” he said, the words coming out fast and strong now. “You lied to me.” Then, before she could say another word, he turned, disappearing into the darkness.
“Hayes, wait!” Violet lurched forward. But TJ held her arm, keeping her back.
“You don’t have to show me that second script,” he was saying, grinning wildly. “Don’t bother. I want to work with you on this fanfic project. No doubt about it. And the rec? Consider it done!”
Violet felt like screaming. Work was the last thing on her mind. “Thank you. But I’ve got to go!”
She raced after Hayes, tripping over roots, stumbling over stones. She found him at the end of the path, sitting against a tree.
“Hayes.” Violet leaned over to catch her breath, then sat beside him. “I’m so sorry. I was just about to tell you, you must know that. I just feel so—”
“Forget it, Violet.” Hayes’s voice was harsh. “Save your breath. I thought I could trust you. I thought you understood me better than anyone I’d met in my entire life. I opened up to you. And you exploited it … you exploited me … just to get ahead.” He stood, looking down at her angrily. “I never want to see you again.”
“Hayes,” she begged.
But he was already gone.
PART THREE
Girl Loses Boy
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A SUDDEN BURST of sunshine lit the bedroom. Violet pulled the covers over her head. “Close the curtains, Mia!”
“No,” said Mia, opening them even wider. “It’s one o’clock! I’ve already eaten breakfast and lunch, and you haven’t even gotten out of bed.” She moved closer to the bed and flung off the blanket.
“I’m wallowing!” Violet sniffled. “Can’t you leave me in peace?”
“You’ve been wallowing for three weeks now.” Mia’s voice softened. “I know it’s been hard. Did you check your phone today? Maybe Hayes sent something this morning.”
“I doubt it.” Still, Violet struggled to sit up, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. She checked for messages. “No, nothing. I’ve sent Hayes dozens of texts. Maybe hundreds! It’s been so long now, and he hasn’t gotten back to me at all.”
“I still can’t believe Lydia told TJ that you wrote the fanfic. She promised she wouldn’t say anything until you said it was okay!”
Violet sighed. “I can’t really blame her. TJ said he wanted to collaborate with the fanfic author for his next project. Lydia couldn’t help herself. She thought she was looking out for a client.
“If TJ had stormed over a few minutes later, everything could have been different. I would have already told Hayes. But this whole mess is totally my fault.”
Mia moved next to Violet, settling against the headboard. “Well, I’ll let you stay in bed a little longer, then we’re getting out of the house. You’re only here another week. You have to make the most of it. So stop thinking about Hayes! Think about something else!” She picked up the remote. “Let’s see what’s on.”
She flicked on the TV. On-screen, a sitcom family was eating breakfast, the kids arguing with their parents about cleaning their rooms. Mia switched channels to car racing. She pressed the remote again. A cooking show. She pressed again. The Hollywood This Week logo appeared, followed by the show’s anchor, Rick Rodgerson, announcing an exclusive on Hayes Grier, coming up next.
Violet reached for the remote and made it louder. The scene cut to Alison Portnoy, standing in front of a framed Midnight Hawk movie poster. Violet remembered looking over all the photos with Hayes, trying to choose one. It came down to two: a solo shot with Hayes, his sweatshirt hood pulled up, half-covering his face, running along a dark street, looking anxiously over his shoulder.
The other was a close-up, a shot of his grimy face, a determined glint in his eye, ready to take on the bad guys. Remembering how close they’d been, how they both pointed to the running shot at the very same time, felt like a knife through her heart.
“You’re hearing it here first,” Alison Portnoy was saying. “Sixteen-year-old sensation Hayes Grier is gearing up for a world tour following the premiere of his new movie. He is the Midnight Hawk, a starring role that’s already generating Oscar buzz. The premiere is scheduled in two days, and Hayes will be catching a private jet the very next morning to meet his fans across the globe. Go to our website and check his tour schedule; he may be coming to your town soon!”
“He’s leaving?” Violet switched off the TV, burrowing under the blankets once more. She hiccuped in despair. Mia patted her awkwardly. “I love you, Mia, but can you leave me alone for a bit?” A sob escaped. “I need to be by myself.”
“Oh, Violet!” Mia waited a moment, clearly hoping Violet would change her mind. Finally, she stood uncertainly, hovering over the bed. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”
Under the covers, Violet nodded.
“Okay, well, I’ll be in my room all afternoon. Forget leaving the house. I’m not going anywhere, at least until I feel better about you.”
Mia left, closing the door softly behind her. As soon as she was gone, Violet cried harder. Now what? she wondered. What can I possibly do?
Keep busy, she told herself. Hayes wasn’t the only one leaving. She’d be getting on an airplane soon, too, heading back home.
Sighing, Violet gazed around the messy room. She’d barely picked up after herself since the wrap party. It looked as bad as Hawk’s bedroom set, with piled-up bowls and dirty clothes. She had to get her stuff together. Like it or not, she had to get moving.
Violet organized her clothes into groups: dirty, somewhat dirty, and clean enough to pack as is. She pulled a sweatshirt from under the bed and saw something stuck under its sleeve: the photo-booth pictures from Hayes’s party.
She sat down heavily, looking at the two of them—grinning, goofy, serious. Looking as if they were ready to fall in love. And she burst into tears once more.
Okay, that was it. She had to get out. Slipping into a pair of sweats and not bothering to look in the mirror or change her pajama top, she snuck past Mia’s room and out the back door.
* * *
The boardwalk by Venice Beach was crowded with tourists. Violet felt invisible, glad she could fade into the sea of people. No one here knew—or cared—that she’d just betrayed the guy of her dreams.
The fresh air felt good; the ocean glistened in the distance. Violet took deep, long breaths, hoping to breathe in the good, breathe out the bad.
If only Uncle Forrest could hear me now! she thought, managing a smile. He’d be so proud.
An hour later, Violet was turning to go home, a little more ready to tackle her room, when Jay fell into step beside her.
“Hey, stranger,” he said, smiling, a beach towel slung over his shoulder.
“Jay!”
Violet had spoken to him after the beach party, explaining she was already semi-involved with somebody else, and apologizing for kissing him. The timing wasn’t right for them to start anything. He’d nodded, saying, “Okay, fine,” in a curt kind of way, and that was all. She hadn’t seen him since.
But now Jay was smiling, seemingly glad to see her.
“How are you?” she asked.
Jay gave her a friendly nudge. “I guess I can’t complain.” He looked at her sideways. “Not everything this summer worked out the way I wanted. But I aced those classes and I’m feeling pretty good now. You, on the other hand, don’t look too happy.”
He added more seriously, “Is everything okay?”
Violet sighed. She looked at Jay; his hair had lightened, his tan had
deepened. He looked in shape and seriously cute. If only she had fallen for him instead of Hayes, this walk home would be so different. They’d be laughing and holding hands, knowing they had precious little time left together and enjoying every second.
Instead, she was on her own, miserable and angry about every wrong decision she’d made. For a moment she wished she’d never met Hayes, never gotten the internship. But she knew she didn’t mean it. Just knowing him had been worth it.
And Jay? He was a great guy. She hadn’t given him enough credit before; he’d been nothing but kind.
“Things could be better,” Violet admitted.
“Want to talk about it?”
Violet shook her head. “I don’t really want to get into it. But thanks for being a friend.”
Jay blushed a bit under his tan. “I’m glad I got to know you. I’m sorry if this summer wasn’t everything you wanted it to be, either.”
Violet closed her eyes. She was sorry, too.
A few minutes later, Violet said good-bye to Jay and paused on her front steps. She picked up a package resting by the door, about the size of a pillow, and almost as light. She squeezed it. Whatever was inside was soft. “Mia,” she called, walking inside. “Something came for you.”
“Violet?” Mia rushed downstairs, looking surprised. She gazed at Violet, wearing sweats, sneakers, and a pajama top. “You went out?”
“I needed air.”
“Did it help?”
“Not really.” She held out the package for Mia. “There’s no return address.”
“Let’s go into the kitchen,” Mia said, already ripping it open. “Hey, look at this!” She let the contents fall onto the kitchen table: three T-shirts, all Hayes Grier merchandise, with the graphics Mia had designed. Each one was a combination photo and black-line drawing.
On the front of the first, Hayes sat on a sketch-drawing of a motorcycle, staring straight ahead, coming at you. The back had Hayes on the same motorcycle, leaving. On the front of the second, Hayes and Zan sat on a black-line drawing of a couch, looking forward; the back of the couch and the backs of their heads were pictured on the other side. The third T-shirt featured Hayes taking a selfie with a line-drawn phone. On the front he faced forward. The other side showed his back, but his face in the phone.
The words were the same on all three: Coming … going … living.
“Oh my God, these are amazing!” Mia skipped around the room. “I can’t believe they came out so well!” She slowed to a walk, then stopped in front of Violet.
“I shouldn’t be so happy when you feel so sad,” she said, hugging her cousin briefly.
“But I’m happy for you.” Violet hugged Mia back. “They look awesome.”
“Don’t give up!” Mia said suddenly, sounding fierce.
“What?”
“You’re leaving soon, Violet, and so is Hayes. You don’t have any time left! You can’t just wait around doing nothing. Try texting Hayes one last time to apologize. Please! It couldn’t make you feel any worse!”
That was true. At this point, Violet really had nothing to lose. “Okay,” she agreed. “One last time.”
She went to her room, sat on her bed, thought a moment, and then typed: I know you leave for your tour in two days, but I wanted to try one last time to say I’m sorry. I feel horrible about what I did. I’d really like to see you so I can apologize in person. I hope you’ll consider it. If not, I won’t bother you again. Violet
Violet sat holding her phone for fifteen long minutes. She didn’t move; she barely breathed. She didn’t dare look away from the screen for fear of missing Hayes’s answer.
There wasn’t one.
Violet couldn’t sit there forever; finally she got up, taking the phone with her. When she showered, she put it on the ledge with the shampoo. When she made pasta for lunch, she kept it on the cutting board, right next to the chopped kale she was using for salad. She’d refused kale juice every time Uncle Forrest and Mia offered it—she had her limits, she’d joked. But she actually liked kale with apples and almonds.
After lunch, she slipped the phone in her jeans pocket and carried it with her everywhere.
Hayes never replied.
Then it was nighttime. At ten o’clock, Violet gave up. She turned off the phone, putting it facedown on her nightstand, just in case it miraculously turned back on.
She needed to face facts. She’d never see Hayes again, except on-screen or on a T-shirt.
* * *
“What are you doing here?”
Violet was sitting in TJ’s office the next afternoon, trying not to think of all those other times she’d sat there, going over Hayes’s schedule, taking notes on wardrobe and script changes, bringing coffee. Those days of caffeinated activity were over. No more running around trying to do ten things at once, with thoughts of Hayes Grier coloring every errand with a romantic glow.
Now TJ was sticking his head into the office, sounding annoyed she was there at all.
“We do have a meeting,” Violet said tersely.
TJ strode inside, walking around the desk to ruffle Violet’s hair. “Just playing with you,” he said, smiling. “Of course we have a meeting!”
He sat down across from her, reached into the top desk drawer, and pulled out an envelope. “Here’s the recommendation letter.”
“What?”
“I wrote you a letter. I told you I’d write one for you, with or without another script.” He eyed her empty hands. “And I guess it’s without.”
“I did have one idea, and it started out really well. But then I got stuck.” Violet didn’t bother to say she was stuck in bed, wallowing in misery about how things turned out with Hayes. She hadn’t been able to write one more word, let alone an entire screenplay.
“I can show you nine pages.”
“Not necessary.” TJ paused. “But tell you what. Send it to me when it’s done—whenever you finish it—and I’d be really happy to read it. In the meantime, you’re pretty much a shoo-in for the Hollywood Screenwriting Academy now.”
Violet looked at him, and her eyes filled with tears. He was being so nice … so un-TJ-like! But maybe she was being unfair. He had taught her a lot after all, and not just about cappuccino. “I feel horrible,” she blurted, “about the way I hurt Hayes.”
“I know.” TJ looked back, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Don’t tell anyone this, I don’t want to damage my reputation for being a joker, but I’ve been thinking about what happened. And I think, deep down, you already know what to do.”
From another drawer, he pulled out a paper copy of the Hayes Grier fanfic. “I printed out the stories,” he said apologetically. “That’s how good I think they are.” Then he ripped them into shreds. “But they need a revision.”
Slowly, Violet nodded. She got it. She had to rewrite the story and, this time, tell the truth.
It would be her apology piece. Her final one.
Violet stood. She had two days before Hayes began his tour around the world, and one day before the Midnight Hawk premiere. Could she finish before then?
She had to give the new story as much heart as she gave the original fanfic.
And she had to do it fast.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ALL THAT DAY, Violet composed scenes and dialogue in her head, rejecting them one by one. Too sappy. Too boring. Just not right. But in the morning, she woke refreshed, with a perfect setting in her mind’s eye. The beach.
In her room, Violet scribbled a DO NOT DISTURB sign and taped it outside her door. Then she sat at the desk, wearing sweats and slippers, a glass of water beside her. She glanced once at the clock, turned on the laptop, and typed furiously …
Violet and Hayes were sitting next to each other on Venice Beach. They shared a blanket but sat as far apart as possible. Violet stared straight ahead at the setting sun casting its colors across the sky. She was afraid to turn, to get so much as a glimpse of Hayes’s face. She felt amazed and grateful he had even agr
eed to meet her. Looking at him—with such longing and emotion—could send him running. And she wouldn’t blame him if he did run—fast and far away.
Hayes had opened up to her, and though she didn’t mean to—not at all!—she’d basically slammed a door right in his face.
But this was her only chance; her opportunity to explain and apologize for what she’d done.
“Fan fiction is fiction,” Violet began tentatively. “Rose is a character. But I wanted her to be me…”
“Rose. Violet. Flowers. I get it.” Hayes spoke in monosyllables. But at least he was talking. Violet took heart.
“I’m just a regular girl. I didn’t grow up in LA, I grew up clear across the country. And like anyone else, I watched movies on-screen. I sat, transfixed, watching stories unfold. I dreamed of becoming a screenwriter. I came here to live those dreams. But something unexpected happened. I became an assistant—an assistant for a cute celebrity—and started to have feelings for the guy.
“Meanwhile, I tried to write a script, to make my dream come true. But I froze; I couldn’t do it. For the first time ever, words didn’t come. Maybe because the guy was the only thing I could think about. And when I finally started to write, he was all I could write about. Now the words—the fan fiction—were coming fast and furiously. Like a volcano erupting, I couldn’t hold them back. It was a story just for me. ‘No one else will ever see it,’ I told myself. But then a friend saw it on-screen. She posted it without my knowledge or permission.”
Finally Hayes turned to look at her, surprised.
“And the story took off. People around the country read it. Readers begged for more. And I had to write more. It became a need, a way to understand my feelings, to deal with everything I felt. I was so confused and in too deep, and the words kept coming.”
Violet touched his arm. “I planned to tell you the truth. Remember when I pulled back from the kiss by the Hollywood Sign? That was because I hadn’t told you yet. But then Tez called with the emergency at your house. Over and over, I tried, but something would always happen—someone interrupted, or you had a big scene to deal with. It was never the right time. And yes, I took the easy way out, putting off what I should have done as soon as the fanfic went live. But I couldn’t bear to upset you, or put a wedge between us. Not when our relationship was just beginning.