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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"I mean, come on, it's been five years!" Dove's voice rose slightly over the faint hum of sewing machines and the quiet scuffling of fabric as she stood, arms outstretched, while a seamstress adjusted the flowy, silver fabric draping off her shoulder. The designer, a sharp-eyed woman with a measuring tape slung around her neck, raised an eyebrow as Dove continued her rant.
"Five years, yes, but that doesn't mean she'd be thrilled about you messing around with her ex," the designer replied calmly, pinning a hem with precision.
Dove sighed, glancing at herself in the mirror. "I know, I know. But it's not like I'm serious about Paige. It's just... she's fun. We go out, we hook up—it's not some epic love story. I mean, I'm not about to marry her or anything. Jocelyn would get that, right?" She tried to laugh it off, but her expression wavered.
The designer paused, considering her words before placing another pin. "You know Jocelyn better than anyone, Dove. How do you think she'd feel?"
Dove rolled her eyes but softened a little. "Honestly? Probably pissed. But she hasn't even spoken to Paige in five years—not since everything happened. Besides, it's not like I'm responsible for them avoiding each other. Paige just... gets it, you know? She understands what this life is like, all the pressure. It's nice to feel like I don't have to explain myself for once."
The designer gave her a skeptical look as Dove held her gaze in the mirror, trying to convince herself.
Dove sighed, watching her own conflicted expression in the mirror. "Am I a terrible person?" she murmured, half to herself.
The designer gave her a sympathetic but unimpressed look. "Why don't you tell me?"
Dove tilted her head thoughtfully, rolling her shoulders as the seamstress worked around her. "I mean, Jocelyn's been married for years now. Why would she even care about little old Paige? Unless..." Her voice dropped, a hint of mischief in her tone. "Unless there's some underlying feelings left there—which, you know, I get if there are. Because Paige really knows how to—"
"I get it." The designer's quick interruption was dry, her expression unreadable as she knelt to pin the hemline.
Dove smirked, laughing at herself. "Alright, alright. I'll stop. It's just... it's fun. And it's not like Jocelyn even has to know. I doubt she'd even think twice about it," she added, but her gaze flickered in the mirror, betraying a hint of doubt.
"Joce is my best friend in the entire world," she said softly, almost as if convincing herself. "I'd never mean to betray her... right?"
The designer didn't respond, her focus on the final pin, but Dove couldn't ignore the echo of her own question, lingering in the back of her mind.
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