Fame ***

This can’t be happening.

Those were the only words that flashed through my mind as I stared at the magazine cover in front of me. The look on Jem’s face when he’d presented it to me was like that of an abused, guilty puppy. “I’m so sorry,” he’d mumbled, his fingers toying with the paper material as he held the bearer of bad news behind his back. “I really thought that my manager would have been able to see you and get you signed up with him before something like this happened. I’m so sorry.”

“What are you…?” I’d started, but then he’d slapped the copy of Star in front of me, and I’d felt my whole face drain of blood and my stomach start to churn as I fell slack with shock and disappointment and horror and every other negative emotion in the book.

I could hear Jem muttering things in the background of my mind, though I only caught snatches of the sentences. I thought he was offering to kick Niall’s ass, even though his sister wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t have the energy to respond to his sad attempts at making me feel better. Because it wasn’t Niall’s fault at all.

“She ran it,” I breathed, tears slithering out of my eyes and making fast tracks down my cheeks. They were surely fucking up my makeup, ruining my image, making me look weak, but I couldn’t give a single shit. “She fucking ran it.”

“Who? What?” Jem sounded desperate to help, but to admit everything to him would be admitting the fact that I was not nearly so kind and loving as I appeared to be to him. “Lilah, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering, my eyes scanned the words over and over again, so many times that none of the words had meaning anymore. None of the words besides Niall’s name, anyway. IS NIALL HORAN A CHEATER? And then the smaller type pouring salt in the gaping, oozing wound: The late night phone calls back to Ireland while at Lilah’s apartment! The jealousy over James Rogers! But the worst one, of course, was the one put under a picture of the two of us leaving the bakery less than a week previously, where I was ushering him through a crowd, my head ducked to avoid pictures and shouts: Says one source: “Lilah can’t even stand to look at him anymore.”

“Do you need to talk to someone?”

I looked up into his caring eyes and sighed. “He’s not cheating on me,” I stated plainly, wiping off my cheeks. I had no idea how I was able to keep my voice so steady when my body had gone into complete panic mode, but I was thankful for it. “This is revenge.”

Jem finally sat down, making deliberate movements to pull out the chair next to me and plant his butt in it before speaking in a clear, low tone. “What are you talking about?”

I let out a breath. If anyone would understand, it would be Jem. After all, Jem’s heart was open and genuine, and he would understand that I’ve made mistakes. So I said, “Alright, here’s the deal,” and told him the entire story.

When I was finished, thankful that most of the crew and cast were off-site on their various lunch breaks, Jem just stared at me with a solemn kind of sincerity. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he stated honestly. “The fact that you’ve decided to change your character so much is a wonderful thing, and you shouldn’t be punished for it.”

“In an ideal world…” I trailed off before shaking my head. The time to mourn and wallow in self-pity was over, and the time to do something about what was happening was upon me. “So what should I do?”

“Depends. What’s more important: your career or your boyfriend?”

I knew what he meant. If I wanted to salvage my career and image, to keep from falling into the place of a grieving, wronged ex-girlfriend or to help put Niall’s reputation back together, he would call up his agent right then and there and get me a meeting that day. But if I wanted to salvage my relationship with Niall by getting everything out in the open, then I had to call him.

“I’ll be back,” I rushed, getting to my feet and hurrying down the hallway to the women’s restroom. After ducking into a stall to give myself the appearance of privacy, I dialed the number I knew my heart and put my pinky nail in my mouth, gnawing without breaking it, as I waited for him to answer.

“How could you do this?”

The agony in his voice was so palpable that I could feel the optimism and hope drain out of me. “Niall, please believe me-”

“Do you realize that I was the only one who believed you?” His voice had risen to an angry octave, his vulnerability gone. “When Harry warned me about you, I just shrugged it off. I told myself that he was probably just sore from being fucked over by a beautiful girl. Who wouldn’t be hurt by that? But you wouldn’t do anything like that to me. Because you loved me.”

“Niall, please.” I was crying again, and I didn’t do anything to stop it. “I’m telling you, this had nothing to do with me. If you’ll just let me explain.”

“I can’t believe you used me like that. Is that really how much you care about me? I’m just a tool to get some headlines? God, I knew that you were a good actress, but this is just fucking ridiculous.”

“Niall.” I was sobbing too hard to get any other words out, but I hoped to God that he would hear the desperation in my voice and at least pause to hear anything else I had to say. Even if it was just for a second, I could explain that it was just a filthy ploy to get back at me.

“Fuck you, Lilah. Don’t fucking call me again.”

And that was the end of the phone call. And the end of my relationship.

Overcome with rage, I slammed my phone into the toilet, not even blinking as I watched it submerge in the water. The screen flickered before going black, like the life drifting out of a person slowly before it just shut off completely.

I walked out of the bathroom, trying to look somewhat composed, but I knew I was doing a rotten job of it. Jem’s expression went from optimistic to pained in two seconds, and he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around me for comfort.

“He’ll come around,” he soothed. “I swear he will. Just give him time to cool down.”

“He hates me,” I responded, using my thumb knuckle to wipe off my face. God, the makeup artist was going to kill me. “I’ve never heard him so angry before.”

“You can only get that angry at the people that are closest to you,” Jem said wisely. “Really, just let him let off some steam, and try to explain things again.”

“I threw my phone in the toilet.”

To my surprise, Jem actually laughed, although it was a weak and reluctant kind of sound. “That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Did it make you feel better?”

I thought for a second before sighing. “No. Now I just have no way to get that call from your agent.”

“At least you have me.”

He had no idea how true that was.