After a sudden hiatus from social media, popular YouTuber Belinda Quincy feels like she has her mojo back and attempts to do something to make it up to her fans. But that's when a mystery girl's music video goes viral.
Jealousy creeps in at all the...
What do all you Fashionella haters have to say now? When something's trending, everyone's in support of it, not even considering who they're hurting in the process. Well, here's this: Bella was a victim of cyberbullying! Her computer was hacked, she was being threatened, and all those posts you saw weren't actually made by her. I just watched her video, where she said she'd be deleting Fashionella in a few minutes and my blood is boiling towards all of you out there who supported her downfall. I don't care who this offends as long as I'm saying the truth! #FashionellaFanForLife 1.5M likes 750K comments 1M retweets
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"What are you doing here?" Bella asked Beau as she got into the passenger seat of his car.
"I texted you and you didn't reply, and you weren't in school today. You had me worried, and Cody wasn't being straightforward when I asked how you were. Bella, he just shrugged."
"Wow! You seem talkative today," she said, tucking her left leg beneath her body, then turned to completely face him.
"Are you kidding me, Bella? I was worried about you."
She smiled and poked him in the cheek. "I'm fine. I just wasn't in the mood for school."
He studied her for a while, his brow furrowing. Then he asked, "Have you been crying?"
She reached a hand to her eyes, remembering her moment. "I forgot about this when I saw you." She laughed, but he wasn't finding it funny. "Come on, it was just a moment. I wasn't exactly crying."
"What's wrong?"
"I was just talking to Maggie about something. She's going back to New York soon."
"But you're going to see her again, aren't you? Why the moment?"
Bella smiled, then took his hand. "Fashionella," she said. "I was telling her about my plan to... delete it." She looked down at his hand, feeling like she would tear up again if she stared at him for too long.
"Why do you wanna do that?" he asked, his voice surprisingly soft. "You know you don't have to, right?"
She nodded. "I know. I just—" she stopped, and the next part came in a whisper. "I think it would be good for me. I'll make a farewell video explaining things, and that's it."
Beau watched her. She was still refusing to look at him. "What about Teen Stars, then? You're not giving up on that too, are you?"
She didn't speak for a while, entwining her fingers with his, instead. Teen Stars was a dream she knew was out of reach. If it was meant for her, she would've either been noticed, or replied to. But neither of those things happened, so she honestly didn't know what to say. Two years of hardwork was hanging on a little decision.
Finally she said, "I don't know, Beau."
He turned to her, reaching for her hair with his free hand. He stroked her hair once, then let his fingers run down the side of her face.
"Are you sure about that, Belle? The first time you told me about Teen Stars, I could see that spark in your eyes. Even that day you talked about it at my place, I could tell it was important to you. You don't have to give up on your dream because of someone."
Bella let out a breath and finally looked up at him. "I'm not giving up on it. I think I'm just scared because I got the silent treatment from them. I've refreshed my email a million times since September, and there's still nothing. Maybe my email never even got read."
"You can't be sure about that."
"I know what I'm talking about, Beau. I have that gut feeling."
He playfully poked her in the side and she squealed in surprise, making him smile.
"You're coming off as a pessimist, you know."
"Maybe. But really, I just want a break from it."
"Just a break?"
"Just a break," she confirmed.
"That's the girl I know. So much energy," he commented, trading smiles with her. "You're not grounded, are you?"
"Nah. I'm on probation."
An amused look lit up his eyes. "Wow! I really am involved with a criminal. Total badass."
She proudly flipped her hair over her shoulder, and they laughed.
"Why'd you ask?" she asked after a while.
"Um, I got you a BC ticket for another gig tonight. I want you to listen to the song I wrote you, and I was thinking we'd have our first official date afterwards." She stared at him in shock for a long time, and he said, "It's an early gig, so you don't have to worry about getting home late."
Her mind could only really focus on the "first official date" part of his sentence. When he understood her expression, he laughed, his eyes expectant.
"Is that a yes or an I'm not sure?" he asked, watching the shocked frozen girl in his passenger seat.
"A date?" she finally asked, a smile creeping up her face and lifting the corners of her lips.
He leaned closer to her, an intense look in his eyes, and her throat went dry for a second. "A date," he replied in a quiet voice.
"Why?"
As soon as it was out of her mouth, she realized how stupid it sounded. She was expecting him to laugh at her, but he didn't. Instead, he said, "I really, really like you, Bella. And I don't think like does the job here. It's more than I can explain."
The way he was looking at her was different, and it caused a weird tingle to travel through her chest. She could practically feel her heart swelling at the thought of him actually feeling the same way about her.
A faint blush crawled up her cheeks. "I... I feel the same way about you too, Beau." That was when she realized their hands were still joined. It was as if something traveled from his hand to hers. It was almost electric.
"So it's a yes?"
She nodded, her eyes twinkling, and he smiled, then closed the distance between them. She felt the goosebumps on her skin again as she immersed herself in Beau and the sweetness and simplicity of his kiss. It was like a promise when their lips met—a promise that they were both going to protect each other's hearts.
When he pulled away, she felt happy, and she was almost certain nothing could make her happier.
That evening, as she got ready for her farewell video, her family sitting on her bed, present to support her, she felt as if her chest was being squeezed, but distracted herself with thoughts of Beau.
She went to check her Instagram feed as Fashionella's owner for the last time, not caring about the fact that her laptop was still infected. Wherever Amora was, if she still had the guts to watch her, then she should. That was what she wanted, after all.
But she was stopped when she saw the email. The email from Michelle Henshaw.
