Cody: We really need to talk. I get that you're mad and hurt and I'm sorry, but we need to deal with this.
Cody: This was a business deal. We both knew that all along, and it isn't my fault that things got so mixed up.
Cody: I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that
Cody: Please, Seth, we need to deal with this
Seth: I'll call you tonight
——-
"I talked to the lawyers," Ray tells me that afternoon as I'm touching up my makeup in the green room. "All you have to do to break the contract is get Seth to agree to it. And then you have to shake hands or whatever in front of a lawyer or a notary."
"A notary? Where the hell do you get a notary?"
"I can get trained on it online, but it's state specific, so it'd be better to find one when we get to Chicago. The contract was drawn up in California, but as long as it's notarized it shouldn't matter."
My head is swimming. "I have no idea what you're saying."
"Which is why you can't fire me," Ray says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "All you really need to know is that you need to get Seth to agree to end the relationship so you can't be held in contempt by a court of law."
"That sounds bad."
"It is bad, for a lot of reasons. Plus, we definitely wouldn't be able to keep that out of the press. Just get Seth to agree, okay?"
"Okay." That sounds simple enough.
Except really, it doesn't. Because Seth is definitely still pissed at me, if his last text is any indication. And I don't blame him. I broke his heart. I basically stomped all over his heart just as he was giving it to me. No wonder so many people are scared of intimacy.
I've never been a heartbreaker before. I've never even, if we're honest, had my heart broken. There was that time that nobody asked me to prom, and that time when the guy I had a crush on asked out my best friend. Ray turned him down, of course, because she knew he knew I liked him and she concluded that he was a total knob.
So, suffice to say, my experience with broken hearts, my own and others', is pretty much limited to my imagination. I'm already sure, though, that I never want to break a heart again, not if it always feels the way breaking Seth's did.
My phone rings. It's on the couch between Ray and I. Even though I was expecting the call, Seth's name appearing on the screen fills me with dread. This isn't where I want to have this conversation. Why couldn't I be home right now, in my own apartment in Los Angeles, on my own couch, with the stuffed rabbit I've had since I was a baby in my arms?
Because that's not my life. This is: different city every night, thousands of people cheering my name, and a fake boyfriend I need to dump on the other end of the line.
We stare at the phone as it continues to vibrate.
"You have to answer it," Ray says.
"I know."
Ray nudges the phone towards me. "Stop delaying the inevitable. Answer it and get him to agree."
"Right," I say. I wait until Ray leaves the room to pick it up. Now it's just me and George and, in a second, Seth, too. "Hi."
"Hi," Seth says.
"Hi," I say again.
He sighs. I can't figure out where he is on the emotional scale right now. Is he red hot, still furious at me? Or maybe blue—has he spent the past few days curled up in a ball eating ice cream? Or orange—does he want to cross several state lines to punch me in the stomach?
I count to thirty, the long way, with the Mississippi's, before Seth speaks.
"Are you ending our fake relationship because I told you I want to make it real?" he asks. He breathes the words out like he's been holding them in for days.
"No," I say. I have to figure out how to explain this without making things worse. "I've been thinking about this for a while. I just, I knew it was complicated and I was waiting for the right time. But then you said that and I knew it wasn't fair of me to drag things out any longer when I don't reciprocate your feelings."
Five Mississippi's before Seth answers. "How long?"
"How long what?"
"How long have you been thinking about this?"
I have to tell him the truth. "Awhile. I hate lying, and it's not fair to our fans or to anyone, really, that we're not being honest. So I was thinking we'd go through with the Chicago show and then grow apart on social media, less Instagram posts and stories and stuff, and then we'd announce it a few weeks after Chicago."
"You had this whole thing planned out? What the fuck, Cody?"
"I'm sorry, it's just—"
"Why do I get the feeling I'm the butt of some huge joke here? Is this some scheme you cooked up to humiliate me?"
"What?" I nearly drop the phone. My voice is growing red to match his. "Of course not! You know me better than that, Seth. You're one of my best friends. How could you say that?"
Seth groans. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm lashing out because you hurt me and I don't know how else to deal with it."
I fumble with that for a second. "Your therapist say that?"
"Yes. But she's usually right."
I sigh. I curl up on the couch, feeling small. George sits at the table, pretending, as always, not to listen. I wonder how he does it. How he's not as gossip-hungry at the rest of the world. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry, Seth. Hurting you is the last thing I wanted to do."
"Well, you did," Seth snaps. He might be lashing out because he's hurt, like his therapist said, but the anger sounds real. I've never heard Seth like this, and it's scaring me.
"Stop acting like this is all my fault," I snap back. "I'm sorry you're hurt, but this isn't my fault. It's not my fault I don't like you back. I'm your friend, but that's it. I don't owe you anything more than that."
Seth doesn't answer. I swallow down the urge to apologize for what I just said. None of it was wrong, and Seth needed to hear it.
"We couldn't keep doing this fake relationship thing forever, Seth," I say. "It had to end sometime."
"I know that," Seth says. "But I thought... I thought it was becoming real for both of us. And there doesn't have to be an end for that."
"I'm sorry, Seth." I wipe at my eyes, trying to keep them from crying. Don't they know I'm not the one who's getting their heart broken here? "I'm sorry things couldn't be that way."
I will say I'm sorry a million times, even if it'll never make a difference. Seth's heart is breaking, and that breaks mine because I care about him. I don't feel for him the way he feels for me, but I care about him deeply. I value his friendship and I like talking about music with him and he's funny and fun to talk to.
I love him, just not the way he wants me to.
Seth sighs. "What about Chicago?"
"We do the show. We act like everything is normal. And then a few days after, we announce the break-up. Mutual, going on our separate ways, better as friends, all that."
"God, you really thought this through." The anger is gone from his voice. Now he just sounds tired.
And I'm tired too. But unlike Seth, my night isn't over yet. I have to be on stage in twenty minutes.
"You know me," I say. "Always prepared."
"Sure," Seth says. "You don't remember that time we got caught in the rain because you refused to bring an umbrella? Even though it'd been raining all night."
Despite the heaviness in my chest, the memory makes me laugh. My fingers were cold for hours after. "Yeah, I remember." I take a breath. "Hey, I meant what I said. Better as friends. You're an important part of my life, and I don't want to lose you."
Seth lets out a breath, like it's an extension of the one I just took. "Yeah, okay. We can talk details soon. Have a good show."
——-
Hey Code,
Back in London for a week before I head out to New York. You haven't mentioned your new stuff lately—how's it going? Anything I can do to help?
I'm sure you heard about my spot on Ellen by now. We can talk more about it when I see you. I was beginning to think that we'd never be in the same place at the same time, but now NY is only a week away. Crazy, innit?
Talk soon,
Niall
——-
"Your Mom called to let us know she's bringing everyone she's ever met to Chicago this weekend," Ray tells me as we're cruising through Indiana. "Why haven't you called her?"
I'm sitting on my bunk attempting to read a book, but I toss it aside. I'm not getting anywhere with it. There's too much going on in my head, and none of it is helping me write. "Because she leeches my energy like a parasitic energy-sucker."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"That's because talking about her right now is leeching my brain power."
Ray throws a pillow at me. "You're ridiculous. Now give me the timeline again."
"Okay," I say. I've been over it a thousand times in my head, so it should be easy enough to repeat to Ray. "So, Chicago. We do the show together like we'd planned. And then two days later, Seth and I are going to announce the breakup on our stories. We're gonna approve each other's posts before the show on Friday, when we officially notarize the breaking of the contract. And then three days after we announce it, we'll be in New York and Niall will be here."
"Après le déluge."
"Or the eye of the storm."
Ray rolls her eyes. "Don't think about it like that. When are you going to tell Niall how you feel about him? Are you waiting until you see him?"
I nod. "I think that's best. What if he doesn't feel the same way and decides he doesn't want to come? Or, worse, what if he doesn't feel the same way but decides to come anyway?"
Ray looks around for another pillow to throw at me, but there aren't any left. Instead, she goes for an insult. "You think too much. Must be why your head's so big."
"Aw, shucks."
——-
Seth: 2pm at the Trump hotel
Cody: Really??? Are you setting me up?
Seth: Seriously, Cody? You broke my heart but I'm not a terrible person
Seth: The restaurant is always empty so no one will see us
Seth: Bring the notary
Seth: And wear a hood when you walk in from the street
Seth: Could be terrible press otherwise
Cody: Okay
Cody: Thanks, Seth
Seth: Yeah
——-
"This is Cody Burnett, and you're listening to 103.5 KISS FM here in the Windy City."
"This is Cody Burnett. Thanks for listening to 103.5 KISS FM!"
"Hey, it's Cody Burnett. Just wanted to say thank you for listening to my new single on 103.5 KISS FM."
I repeat variations on the same phrase a dozen times before the intern at the radio station finally nods his head and says that we're done. This has to be one of the dumbest parts of my job. One of the easiest parts, but hands-down one of the dumbest.
At least it doesn't require much thinking. I can multitask while repeating my name over and over. There are lots of other things to think about: meeting Seth right after this to get our contract annulled, then tonight's show, where my entire family, including extended relatives whom I haven't seen since I was tiny, will be assembled to watch me.
Thank God for Ray, who guides me out of the radio station and into the car that will drop us off in the Trump Hotel's garage so no one will see us approaching from the street. Thank God for George, who keeps silent watch over me whenever I'm awake and never judges me for anything (or at least keeps that judgment to himself).
And thank God for Intelligentsia coffee, my new favorite Chicago native. Hear that, Mom? You're #2 now.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask Ray as we ride the Trump elevator up from the parking garage. "What if the notary tells?"
Ray rolls her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal. Notaries are representatives of the law."
"But they're not lawyers. They don't have to abide by attorney-client privilege or whatever."
Ray sighs. "Look, kid. I get that you're nervous, but you're driving me crazy. When have I ever not crossed my i's and dotted my t's?"
"Dotted your i's and crossed your t's."
George snickers.
"Don't be a dick, Burnett," Ray says. The elevator dings, announcing its arrival on the ground floor. "It's not becoming."
With George just behind us, Ray directs me to the restaurant, which is to the right of the lobby. Seth texted twenty minutes ago to say that he was already here and had a table under the name Charlie, so that's what Ray asks for at the hostess stand.
One long walk through a very dark restaurant later, I'm sitting across from Seth. He's wearing sunglasses despite the fact that we're inside, and since he's typically not a douchebag, I can only assume that he's either been crying or he's hungover.
Before, I would've asked. But now it seems like crossing a line. Instead I look down at the menu and pretend I'm going to order something
After an uncomfortably silent minute, Ray appears at the table with an older woman who's wearing jeans and a Beatles t-shirt. She does not look like I imagined a notary to look.
"This is Sheila," Ray says, gesturing for her to sit down. "She's our notary. I told her it'd be better if we didn't use names, but she said that's not how this works."
Ray's trying to lighten the mood, but it isn't working. I feel like we're about to rip open someone's will and find out which of us has been left the family fortune. Knowing my luck lately, it probably won't be me.
"Right," Sheila says, taking her seat. Ray sits down across from her, next to Seth. He finally takes off his sunglasses, but he doesn't look at me, so the jury's still out. "Do I understand correctly that we are agreeing to rescind a contract based on the instance that the consideration has become void?"
"Yes, that's correct," Ray says.
She speaks for me for the next ten minutes. All I do is sign where I'm told and try to get Seth to look at me. All he does is nod and say "mhm" and sign where he's told.
"Well, that's it," Sheila says after we've each signed five times. "I'll send you each a copy in three to five business days."
I take her for her word and nod, realizing that I have no idea what just happened. I have no idea if any of this was legal. Which, of course, is why I have Ray.
Maybe, after she finally lets me fire her, Ray should go to law school.
"I'll walk you out," Ray says, standing from the table as Sheila gathers up the papers. To me, she whispers, "I'll be back in ten minutes."
Seth still won't look at me, so I look at him. I study his jawline, which is so sharp it makes prepubescent girls swoon. I consider his eyebrows, which are bushy in that way that has become fashionable but would've been cause for teasing in middle school. I take in his leather jacket and the scarf around his neck that he hasn't bothered to untie.
"Thanks for this," I say.
Seth's eyes flick to me and then away. "Don't do that. Don't act like I'm doing you some big favor."
I dig my fingernails into my thigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
Seth shakes his head. "I know you didn't. It's just... this is weird, okay? I don't know how to make it not weird. I don't know when it won't be weird. But we have obligations, and we have to stick to them, so we're going to be in this weird space for a while and do what we have to do."
"Okay," I say. I look at Seth's hand on the table, guitar calluses on his fingers, wooden ring on his thumb. He told me once he bought himself that ring in Hawaii during the first vacation he took his family on once he was able to afford to do so. "Let's be in this weird space for a while."
I want to take Seth's hand one last time, but I don't. We only ever held hands for show, in front of cameras and prying eyes, and I want to hold hands for real. Not because I want our relationship to be real, not because I like him the way he likes me, but because we're friends and we're going through something hard and we're making ourselves go through it without each other.
That's the shittiest part of breakups, if you're asking me. This breakup isn't even real, and I can tell you that.
——-
From CodyBurnett's Instagram story:
Some news:
Seth and I have decided to go our separate ways. We've realized over the past few months that we are much better as friends than as a couple. This is a mutual decision and one that we think is best for us.
Seth is one of my best friends, and I will continue to support him in that way in the weeks, months, and years to come. I feel blessed to have gotten to know him and to work alongside him as he made his upcoming album. It's wonderful, y'all. You're not ready.
Seth and I appreciate you respecting our privacy throughout our relationship and going forward.
Love you all.
——-
My mom takes the news much better than expected. I told her after the show in Chicago because I knew she'd want to update all of my relatives immediately and wouldn't be allowed to, and that would be torture for her.
I never said I was a good daughter.
A few hours after the Instagram story posts, she calls me to let me know that she's proud of me for ending such a "convoluted Hollywood lie" and she wants me to know there's an article about me in the local paper.
"I'll mail it to you," she says.
I say thanks and don't bother to remind her that I won't be home for another two weeks. I don't tell her how nervous I was in Chicago, how my hands shook as I played the first song, how my voice threatened to hide itself away when it came time to sing with Seth.
I don't tell her how much I cried when I got back to the bus afterward. I don't tell her how hard it was to watch Seth perform, to see him put on this other version of himself, this version that didn't have a broken heart and hadn't maybe just lost his best friend. For the hour or so he was on stage, he was Seth O'Conner and everything was fine. Everything was wonderful. So everything had to be fine and wonderful for me too.
I don't tell my mom that I cried when I posted the news on Instagram. I don't tell her that I turned my phone off and gave it to Ray so I wouldn't be tempted to read the comments. I don't tell her that I miss Seth even though I shouldn't. Even though I don't want to. Even though I don't deserve to. I miss his stupid text messages and talking with him every few nights and hearing him laugh. I miss my friend.
——-
Niall: Just saw the news about you and Seth
Niall: You okay? I'm here for you if you need to talk
Cody: Long story. Really busy right now but I'll explain everything soon!
Niall: Explain what?
——-
One day after the breakup goes public and two days before New York, I call Niall. My stomach has been a mess since I got his texts just hours after the Instagram story. I ended a lie, but I'm still lying to him. He thinks I really loved Seth. He thinks our relationship was real. He thinks I'm a mess.
I am a mess. But that's not why.
"Hey," I say when Niall answers. He's leaving for the States tomorrow, and because of the time difference, it's really late where he is. I'm hoping that if he's really tired, he'll have less energy to be upset about what I'm about to tell him. "It's Cody."
"I know it's Cody," he says. I feel like I can hear him smiling. I'm not sure if that's something that's unique about Niall, or if it's a reflection of the feelings I have for him. I am so attuned to him that I can pick up his emotions in his voice instantly. "How are you?"
"Okay," I say, ignoring the tenderness in his voice, the leading question. "I have to tell you something."
"Okay?" Niall says.
I close my eyes and picture him at home, in the home space I've made up for him in my mind. He has a cozy room with warm sheets and dirty clothes on the floor. There are three different watches on the dresser. One of the drawers is open. He's sitting up in bed talking to me.
"You're going to be mad at me," I say. "And that's okay. I'm telling you because I'm sorry that I did it and I'm sorry I kept it from you, and because it's only fair if you know."
Niall chuckles. "Cody, you're not making any sense."
"I know." I take a deep breath. "My relationship with Seth wasn't real."
Five Mississippi's until Niall responds. "What?"
"It was fake. A publicity stunt."
"A publicity stunt," Niall repeats.
"Yeah."
Only one Mississippi goes by before Niall's response: "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"No, I—"
"That's bullshit, Cody. Fake relationships are bullshit. I never thought you were that kind of person. Lying to your fans like that, lying to me, you even lied to your own mother, didn't you?"
"No, she knew." And she didn't like it. But Niall won't listen if I try to tell him that, and it probably wouldn't matter anyway. It sounds like he's made up his mind. Or maybe he's just angry, in this moment he's angry, and he needs me to hear that.
"What the fuck, Cody? I can't believe this. I can't believe you did this."
Three Mississippi's. I don't try to talk—I just wait.
"I feel like no one can trust you when you do that, you know? Even though the public never finds out, it's like all of your credibility is gone. If you did that once, how is anyone supposed to know if you're doing it again? If your feelings are ever real?"
"My feelings are real," I say so quiet I can barely hear myself. Then again, louder. "My feelings are real."
Four Mississippi's. Niall sighs. "I know that. Of course I know that. But this sucks, okay Cody? This sucks. I don't know if I can look at you the same way."
I wipe at my eyes. "Okay," I manage to say. My throat feels swollen. "That's fair. I'll give you some time to think about this. Bye, Niall."
I hang up before he can say anything else.
——-
"He'll come around," Ray says the next day. One day until New York. She sounds so confident that I almost believe her. But I also believe that the thing that I'm best at these days seems to be hurting others.
At least I manage to write a song out of it.
It's not a very good song, probably one of my worst, in fact, but Ray sits there on my hotel bed in Boston and trades me a tissue for my guitar when my vision goes blurry. She wraps her arms around me and holds me as I cry, and she rubs my back like my mom used to and tells me that I'm smart and boys are stupid and everything will be okay.
"Après le déluge," Ray repeats. "You're in the storm right now. But there will be a time after. Whether or not things work out with you and Niall—but I want it on the record that I think they will work out—you will get through this. You will take this pain and make art out of it, or maybe it'll just hurt and then tomorrow it'll hurt less and the day after that, even less."
"It's going to hurt even worse tomorrow," I tell her. "What if he doesn't come?"
"Do you want him to?" Ray asks. "You're hurt that he wouldn't hear you out. Maybe he doesn't listen well when he's emotional, or maybe that's who he is. Maybe he just doesn't listen."
I shake my head. "No, that's not Niall. He listens."
"So," Ray says. "You need to tell him you still want him. In New York. You need to tell him that you ended the contract with Seth early. And I think you need to tell him how you feel. This seems like something that can't wait on a maybe."
I could say nothing and leave it all up to Niall. I could tell Niall I want to see him in New York and he still might not come. Or I could tell Niall how I feel about him to improve the chances that he'll show up.
The scariest choice is the right one. I know that even without much prodding from Ray.
The thing about the right choice is that sometimes you can only see what it is from the outside. When you're in the middle of something, when your adrenaline is going and you've got tunnel vision and a thousand different emotions are pummeling you at once, you are going to do what seems safest. You are going to protect your heart and your head and your body, and maybe that means doing nothing. Maybe that means leaving it up to fate.
Sometimes you have to be on the outside to see that leaving things up to fate is not how you get what you want. From outside the storm you can see its trajectory. You can see what it's going to destroy and what can be done to avoid it. You can see which paths are safest and which ones are treacherous. You can see that it's the treacherous paths that are the most rewarding.
Sometimes you have to withstand a storm in order to see which path you should've taken, which choice you should've made. By then it's too late: the storm has already wiped out everything that matters. Your ability to choose for yourself is gone.
Right now, I'm in the eye of the storm. It's raging around me, throwing about everyone I love and everything I thought I knew to be true. And I can see the path out of the storm. I can see what I need to do to get to the other side. It's not the safest path, or the easiest one to cross. I won't emerge unharmed; I'll scrape my knees and skin my elbows, but what I have on the other side will be worth the pain.
That's how I make the choice.
——-
Niall,
If you'd given me a word in edgewise, I would've told you that I hated lying. I knew the whole thing was fucked up, and I hated lying. To the public, to everybody. Especially to you. That's why I ended it. The contract wasn't up yet, but I made Seth agree to end it because I hated the lying.
And because it wasn't fair to you.
Our friendship caught on fire a while ago. Do you feel it too?
– Cody
——-
Niall: I'm sorry for what I said
Niall: I'm not giving up on us
Niall: let me know when you're ready to talk
Niall: I'll see you in NY
Cody: See you soon.
——-
If I thought I was nervous in Chicago, it's nothing compared to New York. There, my whole family—including cousins I'd never met and great-aunts I hadn't seen in years—was there watching me, along with Seth and that whole mess. But here, after months of anticipation, I've got Niall.
I don't have time to see him before the show, but Ray reports halfway through the opener that he and a friend have taken their spots in the VIP area. I check my phone, expecting a text, but there isn't one. It seems strange that we communicated via our phones for so long, but now that we're in the same building, we've gone radio silent.
When I step out on stage, there are thousands of eyes on me, but his are the only ones I care about. Is this how people with normal jobs feel when someone they love watches them work? Like the rotation of the earth depends on their success in the other person's eyes, on that and nothing else.
It's silly, of course, but my hand still shakes as I pick up my guitar and try not to stare directly into the spotlight. I pop my in-ear out for a second to let the screams envelope me. They remind me that Niall didn't pay $45.70 to be here tonight, but lots of other people did, and I can't let them down.
So I play. It's all a blur, the faces and the screaming and the notes and what I say during the encore. The set is a mountain I have to scale to get to Niall, a river I have to cross. Every night on stage is a journey, but tonight's show is different. Tonight's show is the only thing standing between me and what I want.
After the final bows, I pace the green room. Ray's already texted to say that Niall's here, that someone's bringing him back. She also texted me good luck and a lot of emojis.
There's a knock on the door. George answers it. He lets Niall in and steps outside.
My fear comes back, rises into my stomach like a bear out of hibernation. Like it was just waiting for this moment to remind me that I haven't fully conquered it yet.
"Hey," Niall says.
"Hey."
The door closes behind him, and we're alone. My hands shake. How did I get to this moment? After nearly two years of emailing and texting and squeezing in phone calls, here we are, in the same room, only feet between us. A surmountable distance.
But also between us, fear.
My fear that he'll change my mind about me. My fear that this is only the eye of the storm, that more difficult times lie ahead. My fear that I misunderstood his heart.
"Cody," he says. "It's so good to see you."
It's good to see him too. It's good to see his freckles in person and his button down shirt with one button missing and his jacket slung over his arm. It's good to see him outside of my dreams, outside of the images in my head. It's good and strange and wonderful and as I look at him, my skin wants to crawl off of my body to get closer to him.
"Thank you for coming," I say. He drops his jacket on the couch.
"Where else would I be?" He takes a step toward me, and another, and another. Then, there he is, just inches away. A much smaller distance to cross, and smaller, too, are my fears.
Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear, and you might find, when you look your fears in the face, that they're not as scary as you once thought.
This, this moment with Niall, is what I want.
I reach up, scraping my palm against the stubble on his chin. I run my fingertip across his lips, feeling his sharp inhale. His hand comes to rest on my waist, then squeezes me, harder, pulls me against him.
"Are you going to kiss me now?" he breathes. "I'm not sure I can wait any longer."
"Yes."
There's nothing between us but warmth when our lips meet.