Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Forty-Eight

"COULD MIA THOMAS, THE SONGWRITING VIXEN WHO IS ROMANTICALLY LINKED TO DRAKE, BE CONSIDERING HER OPTIONS? PHOTOS AND VIDEO OF MIA AND ZACH LAVINE'S INTIMATE KISS, CLICK HERE!"

"SOURCES SAY MIA THOMAS AND ZACH LAVINE ARE DEFINITELY AN ITEM."

"ZACH LAVINE AND SONGWRITER MIA THOMAS HAVE BEEN HOOKING UP FOR MONTHS NOW UNDER DRAKE'S NOSE, AND WE FINALLY HAVE THE PHOTOS TO PROVE IT!"

    There was barely any mention of Mia being at the club with Nicki and her beau. Dressed in a tank top and sweats, Mia scrolled down the newsfeed in her phone with a frown on her face. "This isn't even true," she mumbled to herself. "How can they post stories that aren't even true?"

    Drake exited the bathroom, shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist. He held another towel in his hand, drying off the top of his head. Continuing to dry off his head, he walked over to her and peered over her shoulder at her cell phone screen. "Welcome to being a celebrity," he muttered, walking over to the hotel room closet.

    She glanced at him for a moment, staring at his broad, muscular back. "There's nothing I can do to get them to retract the story?"

    "Unless the story is damaging, there's no point," he said, pulling a suitcase out of the closet. "There will be five more stories to replace the one they retract."

    "Unless it's damaging?" she echoed. "What do you call this?"

    He angled a look over his shoulder. "A rumored hookup with Zach LaVine isn't going to ruin your career. If anything, it'll probably help it."

    "But it's not helping us," she pointed out. "It's hurting us."

    He turned back to face the closet, draping the extra towel around his neck.

    "We had a moment during rehearsals, before you got that text message."

    "Mia, I don't have the energy to talk about this." He walked back over to the bed and set his suitcase on top of it, beside where Mia was sitting Indian-style.

    "If we don't talk about it, the problem will just fester and get worse," she told him worriedly.

    Popping open his suitcase, he said, "You have a big day ahead of you. What you should be focused on is delivering the performance of a lifetime tomorrow. Everything else can wait."

    "Everything else? Even us?"

    He met her gaze head-on and said, "Yes. When you are an artist with obligations, a lot of things will have to temporarily take a backseat. If you're serious about becoming an artist, you can't let a bad day or a fight with someone you love affect your performances, appearances, or interviews. You have to keep it together. And if someone loves you...really loves you...they'll understand that." He paused, then added, "I'd like nothing more than to talk to you and hash it all out with you so we can be on steady ground again. But my brain is in tour mode right now, and you have to understand that. I can't allow our drama or our issues to get in the way of what I need to do. And what I need to do is kill that stage tomorrow. What you need to do is kill that stage tomorrow. Once the tour is over, if we haven't gotten over our issues yet, then we will at that point. You don't have to think about all of that, though. Just focus on tomorrow night. Get through tomorrow night. Amaze the crowd tomorrow night. That's all you should be thinking about."

    She lowered her eyes to her lap, with her brows drawn together.

    He wordlessly returned to rummaging through his suitcase.

    "But..." she started, then thought better of it. She pursed her lips shut and looked away from him.

    Silence fell upon them, until he finally asked, "'But,' what?"