Not Even Friends ° t. holland

▪︎ 28 ▪︎

los angeles, ca
backstage at the late late show

JULIO LOCKED THE dressing room door, but my face was too buried in my hands in see what else was happening. I heard the door lock click and the shuffling of footsteps rushing towards me with a chorus of shhhs, and it's okay.

It was classic Disney-princess-crying moment, just without the bed to throw myself on dramatically. Instead, I was sitting in my vanity chair, leaning on my arms on the dressing countertop. I wasn't crying, but it took all my power to not let the tears escape. My lungs seem to shake as I did my best to keep it together.

"Let it out, honey, it's okay," Vita sighed, as I felt her hand rubbing circles on my back.

Julio whispered something to Vita— something like "you got her?", and I felt his hand grasp my shoulder a few times.

Vita pulled up a chair next to me, while Julio saw himself out— no doubt about to rip the heads off every single one of the show's producers.

"Talk to me, sweets," Vita said, still rubbing my back, "or we can just cry, together. Whatever you want."

Muffled by my own hands, I held back a sob. "I just want things to go back the way they were."

She was quiet for a moment, chewing on my words. "What do you mean?"

I kept myself hidden in my own arms, huddled against the counter. "I was so happy with him, Vita, oh, my god. We were so happy."

I thought back to Tom and I's private moment on the beach, a few days after my traumatic kidnapping. I shuddered at the thought, but then relaxed a bit as I reminisced those feelings with Tom— the wind in our hair, sand around us while I cuddled into his side. He asked me to be his girlfriend that day; our little secret. My heart leapt in that moment, and it was quickening now.

I thought about the movie night at Robert's, when Tom and I had laid under the stars and kissed for the first time. Nothing had ever beat how I felt in that moment— loved, secure, and the happiest I've ever been.

I thought about everything.
Our Nike photoshoot.
Our daily FaceTime calls.
Our sleepovers.
Our dinner dates.

Then...
Nadia happened.

And I ran into Sam.

We never made up, and this interview; broadcasted live for the entire world to see, put the final nail in our coffin. He had embarrassed me, and I walked away.

Tom and I would never be the same, would we?

I wanted to go back to that day on the beach. It was just me and him, no cameras or drama; just us, enthralled with each other.

Will it ever be like that again?

"I love him," I whispered, choking on my admittance.

Vita didn't hear me. Not coherently, at least. "Hm? Honey, what?"

I couldn't say it again. I was actually crying now. Not gross sobs or an overflow of tears. It was just a crushing acceptance, I think; with only a few hot tears snaking their way down my face.