Page 2 of For One Night Only

I set down my water and open the app, where Theo has posted a thirst trap on the beach that makes me grumble in irritation. He’s shirtless, showing off that CrossFit-cultivated six-pack in the sunrise, and his blond hair swoops over his strikingly gray eyes.

But this post is unique for Theo, because it has a rambling caption instead of emojis:

I’m sure you’ve all seen the photos by now—they took me by surprise as much as everyone else. This isn’t how I wanted to learn Valerie wasn’t committed to our relationship, but I’m not going to beg her to stay with me, especially after cheating like this. I have some pride. And honestly, I’m so grateful to be free of the toxicrelationship we were in for more than a year. Some people are so self-centered they don’t care who they hurt. I’m going to spend some time working on myself, seeking happiness, and diving into creative pursuits while I’m overseas to film my next project. I can’t pretend I’m not heartbroken, but I’m surrounded by people who love and appreciate me for who I am, and I know my heart will heal from this pain.

XO, Theodore Anderson Blake

The absolutenerveof this asshole. I didn’t realize you could be gaslit from halfway across the world, but Iknowwe broke up last month. I was there.

•••

We’re at a glamorous early-Hollywoodtribute restaurant in Malibu—one of Theo’s favorites, since he thinks worshipping Frank Sinatra and Errol Flynn is an admirable personality trait. It’s the kind of place with warm lighting, no prices on the menu, and paparazzi lurking in the shadows outside.

Theo’s been staring longingly at my New York strip ever since our orders arrived, obviously resentful of his boring kale salad. He keeps talking about getting “movie-star fit,” even though we both know his real plan to shape up for those shirtless scenes is diuretics. Theo looks great naked already, but if I insist he doesn’t need to lose weight for the role…he’s just going to roll his eyes and tell me I’m lucky to have my superhero costume to hide any flaws.

He pulls out his phone, takes a litany of selfies with his vodka soda, and posts his favorite while I take another deliciously tender bite of steak. Apparently satisfied, he puts his phone face up on the table so he can watch his notifications, then reaches for my hand. I don’t really want tostop eating, but I guess I should at least try to connect with him tonight. He’s been so different lately, but we used to have fun.

I put my hand in his. He smiles at me, and I do my best to return it.

“Valerie, baby,” he says. “This role is a huge step in my career. I think bringing any baggage with me to Spain is just bad energy, you know? Long distance will only hold me back. We’ve had a good run…but we should break up.”

•••

No one knew who Theowas until we dated. He was a competent television jobber with dozens of credits on IMDb that no one remembers, hustling for his big break…and he started getting loads of auditions once our relationship made “Who is Theo Blake?” trend. Now that the buzz about his new gig has faded from the media cycle, he needs me again.

“He’s making this up for press,” I say, groaning. Our relationship was never anything really special, but we had fun for most of the six months we were together. I thought he cared about me. Things were starting to grow sour before he dumped me, but I never expected he’d outright lie for engagement.

“For the record, I never liked him,” Wade says.

“I know.” I close my eyes and sigh, because I know what’s coming. It always does. “They’re running with his side of the story, aren’t they?”

Wade grimaces. “Someone called you ‘Hollywood’s Heartbreaker’ and it’s starting to stick…so that’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“Shit.” I’m used to this, but it doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting. When you become rock-star famous as a teen, no one gives you the grace to make mistakes and grow up: every wrong move is rehashed and reviled. I pissed off a few important people, forgot to bite my tongue in interviews, was a little too loud about my sexuality…and then some of my intimate photos ended up online. Suddenly Iwasn’t a person—I was kindling for the media, and they loved to watch me burn.

Anxiety churns in my already-queasy stomach as I trudge over to the espresso maker, suddenly desperate for caffeine. Does everyone really believe Theo’s lies? What does Roxanne think?

I scroll through my endless notifications, and sure enough, there’s a text from her:

Roxanne:Look, I had a great time last night, but didn’t realize there was still something between you and Theo. I think it’s best if I take myself out of the equation, so I told The Network I’m no longer interested in coming back for season 3. I’ve been considering a different offer anyways. Please don’t call me again.

Damn it. The Network is the streaming service that ownsEpic Theme Song, the show I’ve been lucky to star in for two seasons after years of struggling to pivot from music to Hollywood. Fans loved Roxanne’s character. Now she’s never coming back, and it’s my fault.

I’m not completely heartbroken about losing a “relationship” with Roxanne, because this was just our first time out after she filmed a half-season arc on my show more than a year ago. But we had a good time. There was possibility. And Roxanne isn’t even giving me a chance to explain; but we barely know each other. If our positions were reversed, I’d…probably handle it the same. This business is cruel: you have to look out for yourself first if you want to survive.

Guess I’ll chalk last night up to one more mistake in my scrapbook of regrets.

“You still here, kid?” Wade asks, frowning over at me. I realize my hands are shaking as I try to set up my coffee shots, and decide I should just keep hydrating instead. I down my glass of water, wincing as the cold liquid hits my pounding brain.

“Unfortunately, an anvil hasn’t fallen on my head yet, so yep, still standing,” I say, grimacing. I could really use an anvil right about now.

He settles onto one of my barstools and gestures for me to join him. “Look, I know this must be upsetting, but you made me swear on my Boxster that I’d tell you the second we heard from The Network.”

My stomach drops as I return to my earlier seat at the counter, folding my legs into a pretzel and hoping I don’t look too eager. We’ve waited on renewal news for nearly a year. Our small but loyal fan base is holding strong, but they’re getting ravenous for updates. And honestly, so am I, because my entire career is balancing on this.

“Just tell me.”

He purses his lips. “They’re not happy Roxanne took another offer, and the bad press doesn’t help.”

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