Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Ten

    If you are a woman and you love a challenge, try changing an outfit in the bathroom of a private jet. Just try it for the fun of it. It's not easy - especially if the outfit you are changing into is a dress. Forget if the dress has a zipper in the back. No room for a friend to help you, unless she stands out in the narrow corridor outside of the bathroom. And at that point, the door is open and you're nearly in full view of anyone who happens to look towards the bathroom. Sure, she could ask Drake for help, but she wasn't going to do that. She was giving him the silent treatment. Asking for help kind of defeated the purpose of establishing silent treatment. So she was stuck trying to get into the dress by herself.

    She twisted and turned in the ridiculously confined space that the jet bathroom provided and had to contort her torso to work the zipper in the back. The dress was long, and a shimmery dark blue color that she had fallen in love with. The material was slinky and had felt great on her skin when she'd first tried it on. When she was finished with getting the dress on, she took a deep breath and surveyed her reflection. Smoothing her hair down with a hand, her eyes turned to the bathroom door.

    Drake was sitting out there, in one of the jet seats. Watching a movie on his laptop, or trying to. She had caught him sneaking a peek at her several times. On the limo ride over to the airport, she had tried to convince herself to just let it go. Ultimately, what had happened? He'd had a conversation with a woman he used to have sex with. In a very public place. That was it. A conversation. And she doubted that he had been the one to start that conversation.

    That doesn't change the fact that he withheld the information from you, she thought now, chewing on her bottom lip. It doesn't change the fact that you had to find about it on a news radio station. Thankfully, she'd thought quick on her feet and had claimed to know about it. Something she did to save face, to make their relationship look stronger than it was. Normally, she wouldn't have done something like that, but she could tell that Yesi was baiting her. Baiting the both of them, trying to start drama. She refused to give that woman the power or satisfaction.

    She continued to stand in front of the mirror, knowing that she should go back out to her seat. But then she'd be sitting near him again, and the tension between them made it hard to be that close to him. Whenever she was close to him, she wanted to hug him. Kiss him. Talk to him, joke with him. It was hard to keep the whole silent treatment thing going when all she wanted to do was hear the sound of his voice as he explained something to her, or feel the touch of his hand on hers. In punishing him with silence, it felt like she was also punishing herself.

    With a final look in the mirror, she exited the bathroom and returned to her seat. Her movement drew another look from him, but she stared straight ahead. She was unhappy right now, but she could predict what would happen tonight. Tonight they were going to one of his favorite restaurants in Los Angeles, The Nice Guy. The restaurant's food was exquisite and their atmosphere managed to combine both an elegant and laid-back environment. Because it was one of many celebrities' favorite spots and there was a Lakers game tonight, the paparazzi was undoubtedly going to be lying in wait for any big name to pull up to the restaurant. So although she was angry with Drake, she would paint a smile on her face, since photos would be snapped of them. Show the world that you're both happy so the paparazzi doesn't get a photo of you looking like a sourpuss.

    It was something that he hadn't had to coach her on. He'd never angered her to this level. But after the decision she'd made in the radio station studio, she had formed the idea in her mind that she needed to keep up the facade. On the radio, she had claimed to know Drake and Vanessa talked at the Kanye concert. If photos surfaced of her looking mad or sad, people would theorize why she looked that way. To help support those theories, they would turn to the interview, and then they would know. They would know that she'd lied and that she hadn't known about the conversation at all.

    In coming up with all of that, she finally understood why so many celebrities cracked. Putting on a smile when your heart was broken made the heartbreak all that more intense. It wasn't easy, and if a celebrity was chronically depressed or felt lonely, wearing that mask of a smile all the time had to be hard on them. Happy on the outside, breaking into a million pieces on the inside.

    The jet landed safely. Drake and Mia gathered their belongings and stepped down from the aircraft. A car was waiting for them, so there was no need to plaster a smile on her face now. For some reason, that was a relief. The things that money can buy, she thought as she climbed into the backseat of the black, tinted windowed Chevy Tahoe.

    Drake, who had also changed on the jet, climbed in beside her. He wore a navy blue button-down dress shirt, dark jeans, and navy blue Timberlands. As always, he looked positively gorgeous. The pensive, brooding look in his eyes somehow only added to how attractive he looked.

    She rolled her eyes and looked away from him. There was no way she was going to let him off the hook that easy just because he looked good and smelled like heaven. But she could already feel her resolve weakening. He was a very, very, very hard man to stay mad at. Which is so fucking dangerous, she thought. Because he definitely deserves for me to be mad at him.