Page 8 of Riot

“Well, that’s good. I think we would have a lot of broken hearts here today if there were someone. I’ve read that you have the most marriage proposals of any artist of all time.” I laugh with her and ignore the question. It’s common for fans to hold up signs, messages, and send emails. It’s the norm, but none are from her. I check every day.

“So now that you’re here, in the center of the music world and at the top, where else is there to go? What else is there for you to do?” she asks when it’s clear I’m not going to answer.

Smiling shyly, I roll my lips inward, tasting the metal of my lip ring as I wait for the screams to die down once more. “There’s always more to do. Music is my passion.” Lie. Fallon is my passion, and music is hers so it’s mine too. “I want to create as much as I can and work with some incredible artists to make that happen.”

“Do you have any in mind?”

“One or two. Namely Fallon.” The crowd goes even wilder then. That’s right, cheer for my girl. She’s fucking brilliant. “She’s the top of my list for sure. Her voice and writing are incredible, and I think it would match my music.” I write every song in hopes she will sing it with me.

“Didn’t you meet Fallon at an awards show once? I’m sure we saw pictures of you two looking cozy.” She’s digging. I wait, and the pictures show on the screen. Fallon’s eyes are on me, and she’s so fucking beautiful, it hurts. All the attention was on me, and I was watching her. How could I not? She’s fucking perfection. She’s my obsession.

She’s my everything.

“Ah, that was a good night.” I grin. “I was awestruck when I met her. She was so charming and kind. She applauded every act no matter who it was, even when others didn’t, and then congratulated them all at the after-party.”

“So there was nothing else?”

“Trust me, if you had a girl like Fallon, you wouldn’t be keeping it a secret, am I right?” I call, and the crowd hoots. “No, she’s the type you show off and brag to the world about, so sorry, nothing to talk about.”

Yet, because when I have my girl, the whole world will know about it.

I’ll make sure of it.

FOUR

Even ice queens get lonely sometimes, so I fill my houses with parties. I go to awards shows, date, and see friends. I am the it girl in public, but behind it all, I want the world to truly see me and how much I’m begging for something, anything, to melt this ice.

I am beautiful, and I create beautiful music. My house is filled with awards and wealth, and I never feel like I deserve any of it. I surround myself with the most gorgeous things in life, and it’s all a lie to cover the truth. On the inside, I am ugly and unlovable, and it often feels like they know that.

I smile as I sip my Champagne—another party, another set of lies. People are desperate to feel anything other than the aching loneliness we are all born with. I’m no different. I pose for pictures, laugh, and drink with them. On the outside, I’m everything they think I am—cold, beautiful, and untouchable.

The truth is, I think I’m destined to be alone forever. There is something unlovable about me and they always see it, which is why they leave and hurt me. Now I usually leave first because I don’t want to give them that power. I made myself heartless so they couldn’t break it. It’s easy to be unlovable without a heart.

Some people change their weight, their looks, their interests, or even their lives in search of love, but I can’t change who I am. I can’t change this thing deep inside me. No matter how much I change my appearance or my life, I’m the reason no one could ever love me.

“I think we should break up.” The voice is soft, low, and angry, coming from my left. I’m in the back of the party, hiding with what’s his name.

Todd?

Tim?

Shit, I’m sure it begins with a T. We’ve been on a few dates, and we’ve fucked and had some fun. He got pictures from the paparazzi out of it, showing the world he’s hot enough to be with me, and it will carry him higher in the acting world he’s part of. He’ll get the recognition because of my name, and for a few days, I didn’t have to be alone. It’s also a nice bonus to have a hot guy to show everyone who hurt me.

Lifting my glass, I scan the party for familiar faces as I take a sip. “Okay.”

“You are just so cold and?—”

I turn my frosty gaze on him for a moment. “I said okay.” When he just stares at me, I sigh in annoyance. “You can go now.”

“Fucking bitch,” he spits as he rips himself from the seat and storms away. I watch him go.

What do you do when you keep getting hurt? You stop letting people in and shut out the world to protect yourself, but in doing so, you miss so much. I don’t experience the bad, but I also don’t experience the good. I just exist like a phantom moving through a world that doesn’t quite feel real, and when I’m gone, there will be no one to mourn me. I will just be gone, like a passing wisp of wind, here for a moment and then absent.

“Shit, Fallon, did you just dump Tez?” Amanda, the one whose party I’m at, hurries over, throwing herself next to me. She’s beautiful—we all are here. She became a supermodel at eighteen, and I know she worries she’s getting too old and they will cast her aside, hence the lavish parties to show she’s still relevant.

Tez, I knew it began with a T. What a stupid fucking name.

I shrug, and she laughs, tossing her long, toned legs over my lap. “You’re a hard bitch to crack,” she remarks, but it doesn’t sound like an insult. “I get it.” Her eyes go back to the party. “I don’t let them close either. They always want something—money, fame, a name—it’s never just because they want me.” She blinks, bringing her bright blue eyes back to mine and smiling wickedly. “So break every heart you can, Fallon. I’m sure they will thank you for it when you’re done.” She winks as she gets up, answering the cheering of her name.

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