Under the Lights

“I didn’t wanna come myself,” I say defensively. “I think I’m in enough hot water without everyone seeing me showing up at a freaking prison to pick up the guy they think I’m cheating on my boyfriend with, thank you very much.”

“It’s a police station, not a prison.” He ignores the rest, though. Then he picks up his stuff and follows us back out to the Jeep.

The ride home is even quieter than the way there. Josh is so obviously in painful-hangover mode that Bri takes pity on him and leaves the radio off, which means we’re stuck listening to him moan in pain from where he’s stretched out on the back seat. It’s an hour ride to Malibu, and I keep glancing over at Bri’s white knuckles, her hands clenching on the wheel in annoyance every time he emits a sound.

By the time we get to his house, I’m reasonably sure she wants to kill me.

I expect we’ll just drop Josh off, especially when he announces he needs to go inside and pass out. But when he says, “K-drama, walk me in?” I’m so surprised I can’t even say no. I shoot Bri a quick glance and hop out of the car while she rolls her eyes and turns on her music.

He waits until we’re out of earshot, then says, “Listen, whatever shit is going on between the two of you, fix it.”

“There’s nothing going on,” I lie.

“Oh, please. I haven’t seen this much passive aggression since my parents’ last anniversary. If this little falling-out has anything to do with me—”

“It doesn’t,” I say, then realize I’ve just admitted to the fact that there is a falling out. He doesn’t seem triumphant, though; I’ve obviously only confirmed what he already knew.

“Whatever. Just fix it. She’s clearly the good friend you’ve needed since Ally left, and you need to work out your shit.” He yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth. “You can even use my guest house. I know you’re a fan of it.” He reaches into his pocket, twists a key off his chain, and hands it to me. “Don’t leave here angry.”

Then he lets himself into the main house and closes the door behind him.

When I turn back, I see Bri watching us through the windshield. I sigh and walk over, and wait for her to roll down her window. “Can we talk?” I ask.

She purses her lips. “Okay. Talk.”

“Not here.” I nod toward the paparazzi who’ve been following us since Burbank. “Guest house?” I hold up the key.

Sighing, she lets herself out of the car and follows me back to the same place we shamelessly flirted what feels like a million years ago. It’s a long time before either one of us talks, even after I close the doors.

But she stays, which means she wants to talk. Or at least it means she doesn’t hate me. At this point, I’ll happily take that.

“Thanks for coming,” I say for probably the millionth time. It sounds just as inadequate as it did the first.

“No sweat.” She adjusts the messenger bag on her shoulder uncomfortably, her eyes on the toes of the maroon Pumas she often wears to yoga. “I’ll see you—”

“Bri, wait. Please.”

She sighs, sounding utterly exhausted, and forces her eyes up to meet mine. They look so pained it makes my heart ache. “Why, Vanessa?”

The sound of my full name coming out in her voice just feels…wrong. We’re not acquaintances. The mouth enunciating those three syllables has been on mine. This isn’t how people who’ve had the talks we’ve had and done what we’ve done should be communicating.

And yet, I don’t have an answer for her. No good reason why she should wait. Only the selfish truth. “Because I miss you. And I hate this.”

“You made this choice,” she reminds me, as if I don’t know. As if I haven’t beat myself up over it every second since. “You’re not ready to come out, and I respect that. But I don’t wanna be your secret girlfriend while you parade around on Zander’s arm. I’m not Ally, okay? And I don’t wanna be.”

The mention of my best friend throws me, and I’m about to retort that Ally has nothing to do with this, when I realize that I am a complete and total moron. Because that is basically who I’d be asking Bri to be if I tried to get her to stay while I’m still unwilling to break up with Zander. Last year, pretending to date Liam for the tabloids while he and Ally were falling for each other nearly ruined both them and us. And maybe I didn’t see the similarity here because Zander’s a guy and Bri isn’t, but that doesn’t make it okay. I know that. And I’m not being fair to anyone here.

“I don’t want you to be Ally,” I say quietly. “I just need time. I’m still trying to figure myself out, and I need to do that before I can even consider letting the rest of the world into my head. Things are different when you’re in the public eye. That might sound obnoxious or self-important, but it’s the truth.”

“It doesn’t sound obnoxious or self-important.” She sighs. “I know you’re right about that part. It’s not like I pay no attention at my job.”

“So you see how important it is that I get it right,” I press. “I just kissed my first girl. And yeah, I think I might be…”

“Gay?” she supplies.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m bisexual. What if I am?”