In the relentless spotlight of fame, Jocelyn West (rising pop princess) and Paige Bueckers' fiery romance ignites, but their struggle with toxic tendencies threatens to consume BOTH their careers, and each other. Who knows if they'll come out alive.
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Jocelyn sat curled up on the couch in their apartment's living room, half-heartedly watching Connor's new movie on the big screen. The plot was a convoluted mess of explosions, bad dialogue, and forced romance. She scooped another spoonful of pistachio ice cream from the tub balanced on her lap, the cold treat contrasting with the warm, gooey feeling of the face mask drying on her skin.
As another poorly delivered line echoed through the room, she rolled her eyes. "This is terrible," she muttered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe they gave him a budget for this."
Just then, the sound of the front door opening caught her attention. Paige walked in, her hair slightly damp from a post-practice shower, looking a bit disheveled but calm. Jocelyn's eyes narrowed as she quickly paused the movie and set her ice cream aside.
"What the hell happened, Paige?" Jocelyn asked, her tone a mix of irritation and concern. "You were supposed to meet me at Nobu tonight for dinner. I waited for over an hour."
Paige hesitated, the lie slipping out before she could stop it. "I stayed late to get some extra shots off," she said, her voice steady but betraying a hint of something else. Guilt? Paige couldn't quite place it herself.
Jocelyn frowned, clearly upset but also confused. Paige never missed dinner plans, especially not for something as routine as extra practice. She studied Paige's face, trying to read the emotions behind her calm exterior.
As Jocelyn searched for the right words, Paige's thoughts raced. Why did she lie? she wondered, feeling a twinge of discomfort in her chest. It's not like she cheated or anything. Hanging out with Stella had been harmless, just two people grabbing coffee and talking. But something about it felt off—something she didn't want to explain, at least not right now.
Paige moved closer to the couch, her eyes meeting Jocelyn's. "I'm sorry," she added quietly, hoping to defuse the tension. "I should've called."
Jocelyn's expression softened slightly, but the hurt was still there. "Yeah, you should've," she replied, her voice lower now, almost vulnerable. "I was worried something had happened."
Paige sighed and sat down beside her on the couch, the distance between them feeling heavier than usual. She reached for Jocelyn's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, but the weight of her lie hung in the air like a cloud neither of them could ignore.
Jocelyn sighed and leaned back into the couch, her gaze drifting to the paused screen where Connor's frozen movie seemed to mock her. The tub of pistachio ice cream was melting beside her, forgotten in the growing discomfort between them.
"Paige, this isn't like you," Jocelyn said, her voice softer now, laced with a quiet concern that tugged at Paige's heart. "You never miss our plans, especially not without telling me."
Paige looked down, guilt gnawing at her. She hated seeing Jocelyn like this, the vulnerability in her eyes, the doubt in her voice. But admitting she'd spent hours with Stella—talking, laughing, losing track of time—felt wrong somehow, even though it was completely innocent.
