Page 83 of For One Night Only

Once I’m scrubbed clean and moisturized, there are still a few minutes left on my timer before I can rinse my hair, so…I scroll social media. News about us is everywhere today: the concert, Jane’s premiere, my relationship with Caleb. Hell, even Theo tried to reach out to me, andGossip Dailyhas nice things to say.

And I realize—we did it.

The posts don’t say anything about my reputation. I’m not being tied to Theo Blake or Roxanne Leigh or anyone else I’ve dated in the past. No one is bringing up old mistakes I’ve apologized for a hundred times. They’re all talking about how heartwarming it is to see me and Caleb back together again—one comment even says it’s making them believe in soulmates.

Hell, it’s making me believe too. Relief washes over my skin like cleansing rain.

We accomplished what we set out to do this summer. My name is no longer associated with heartbreak and scandal. Everyone is talking about us in a good way. A few of the posts and articles and videos speculate about what’s next for the Glitter Bats, andEpic Theme Songis mentioned multiple times. It’s exactly as we planned.

If The Network wanted me to turn my reputation around, I’ve officially done it.

My stomach still twists with anxiety, but it’s all nerves and espresso. We’ve rehearsed every single moment of the concert,gotten through multiple run-throughs—I even have planned where I’m standing and what I’ll say when it’s my turn to talk between songs.

I’ve got this. We all do.

Soon enough, it’s time to wash out my strands, and I follow my old hair process like a ritual, taking comfort in the familiar routine. Each movement grounds me further, and I feel the anxiety melting away. The soft purple is a shock as I dry my hair, but I like how it looks. Like me, but also new. It makes my eyes pop, and I play that up as I add texturizer to my hair and put on mascara.

The stylists will make me up properly later in the day, but even barefaced, I feel like I’m on top of the world. I’m making music with the people I love tonight. Caleb is back in my life—for good, if I can do anything about it. And with how things look online on top of it all, I’m so close to having everything I wanted.

Nothing can ruin this perfect day.

My stomach growls, so I call down to the hotel restaurant and put in an order for room service. Just after I hang up, my phone rings again. It’s a number that’s not in my contacts, but it has an LA area code, so I assume it’s just the restaurant verifying my order.

I got a little carried away with the substitutions, but I hate mayo.

“Hello, this is Valerie,” I answer.

“Valerie.” A familiar voice draws out the last syllable of my name in a possessive way. A chill runs down my spine. “This is Ryan Tate fromGossip Daily. So glad I caught you.”

My jaw tenses, and I sink onto the foot of my bed. “Hello, Ryan. I apologize—you’re not in my schedule for today. Unfortunately, I don’t have time for an interview.” There’s nothing unfortunate about it. No doubt, he’s trying to throw me off my game.

And the next thing he says sure does just that. “This will be quick. Any comment onEpic Theme Song’s cancellation?”

Panic blurs my vision, and I have to clutch the phone to keep from dropping it. “What?”

“Surelyyou’veheard the news, right?” His voice is triumphant, a little vindictive. “Or…whoopsie, did I just spill the beans? I have a very reliable contact at The Network who confirmed they’re finally pulling the plug. I wanted to give you a chance to give me your reaction, unfiltered, before the press release drops.”

My hands start to shake. This can’t be happening. Finally, I get my shit together enough to respond. “No comment.”

“That’s a shame. Good luck tonight, by the way. All eyes will be on you.”

I end the call and toss my phone on the bed.

“Fuck!” I shout, to no one.

This can’t be happening. I did what they asked. They sat on a decision for months, made me turn my personal life into a sensation, and then they do this. Today of all days.

Was this all a game to them? All this scheming, and it wasn’t enough.

My shoulders tighten. These Network assholes are filming our concert, and they’re sending some of the higher-ups, so I’m going to have to play nice with the suits all day. Even though they’ve just ruined my career. It’s sick.

Unless Ryan was lying, I rationalize. Maybe he’s just messing with my head, trying to get me to say something inflammatory—it wouldn’t be the first time the press has set me up. I was just too stunned to give him what he wanted.

I pounce back on my phone, practically throwing myself across the bed. Frantically, I start scrolling social media for something,anything, to give me a sign. For a blissful few minutes, everything looks totally normal.

And then, in my costar Lola Martinez’s stories, I see it. Lolahas snapped a picture of a giant iced matcha and a pink macaron. In the tiniest of text, she’s written:

Just got the most terrible news. Even my little treat between rehearsals isn’t making it better, but at least I tried.

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