I turn and rush off the stage, weaving through the crowd as if in a trance, bursting out the door before Reagan can catch up. She corners me at the backstage exit. “Vi, what just happened?”
I shake my head, breath ragged. “I don’t know. I need to leave.”
“Of course, honey. Let’s go.”
Before she can say anything more, Travis is there, striding toward us. I don't think—just react. My palms slam against his chest, shoving him backward.
"What the hell was that?" My voice cracks. Tears burn behind my eyes, threatening to spill over. "You don't get to drag me on stage like some groupie trophy and kiss me in front of thousands of people!"
Travis steadies himself, jaw clenched. "Vi—"
"No!" I push him again, harder this time. "What do you want from me, Travis? What sort of fucking game is this?"
His eyes darken. "You know exactly what I want."
"You will never get it." The words rip from somewhere deep and wounded. "You broke my fucking heart. You left me behind like I was nothing, and now you think you can just use me whenever you feel like a trip down memory lane?"
Reagan steps back, her eyes wide. Travis steps closer, closing the space I created. "This isn't a game."
"Everything is a game to you." My voice drops to a whisper, raw with pain. "I'm not one of your instruments you can pick up and put down whenever you feel inspired."
His fingers reach for my face; I jerk away. "Stay away from me." I back toward the exit, vision blurring. "You don't get to decide when I matter again."
He stands frozen, something deep flashing behind his eyes. "Mischief—"
"Don't call me that." I turn and push through the door, leaving him in the hallway with nothing but echoes and the ghost of what we were.
“YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKINGkidding me!” I huff, flinging my phone across my desk so hard it sends pens flying.
“It’s—” Sally starts, but I cut her off.
“Don’t you dare say it’s amazing, Sally! Look at this,” I pick up my phone and shove it at her, so she can get a real glimpse of me draped all over Travis Phoenix, our bodies mashed together in a steamy onstage kiss. “How the hell do I get this removed?”
Her eyes go wide. “I don’t know what you can...”
“Oh my God,” I press my hands to my face. “Chief is going to murder me if he sees this online. I’m calling him.”
Her eyes widen. “Travis?”
I blink. “Yes, Travis.”
“You have his number?”
I exhale, rubbing my hands down my face.
To them, Travis is a major rockstar, to me, he is the kid I grew up with.
I dial his number and throw it on speakerphone, keeping my head in my hands.
“Violet,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly different after our fight.
“Tell me you can have that photo removed from the internet, Travis.”
“Ain’t that easy, kid.”
“If Chief sees that, he’ll flip. You know that. My face is all over the internet, I can’t even imagine what’s happening on social media.”
“It’ll cool down. Chief doesn’t look online, you know that. He’s too old school.”