Just A Little Bit ✔️

19. Kinley

Kinley Price, In Real Life

Damage control. That's what publicists call it when the press ignites a forest fire and they have to dive in and try to fix it. Riley and I sat down with Ted and Zane after we went public with our relationship, and that uncomfortable conversation is nothing compared to what Stephie is going through now.

After all, as of twenty-four hours ago, the world now knows that Holly Henley isn't the entertainment industry's token straight girl. It's gonna be one hell of an adjustment. There's nothing worse than being outed, and this has definitely taken all of Holly's privacy away.

The worst part is the backlash for Stephie, who has killed any hope of Riley and Holly getting back together, as far as audiences are concerned. Nevermind the fact that Riley and I are dating. Nevermind the fact that Stephie deserves happiness like anyone else does. The audience feels robbed, which means we have to do our best to make them feel better.

Today, we were supposed to record a song. A new demo, rather. I was gonna sing back-up vocals for a Faraway Blues album track, since we found ourselves with a bit of downtime between tour destinations. It doesn't seem like that's going to happen now.

Stephie just finished a brutal meeting. She's now sitting in the corner, fiddling with her guitar and pretending she wasn't crying. Holly hasn't come around, and judging by the way Stephie keeps checking her cell, she hasn't texted either.

We're quiet. It's out of character. This band is never quiet. We're always chattering on about something, tossing around riffs and hoping to fit them into a coherent song. The process is hardly a linear one, but we can put a track together in an hour or so if we hit a groove.

The groove seems far from us. At this point, none of us are getting anywhere.

I look up at Riley. Our eyes meet, and his hands freeze on the keys of the piano. His rings are glowing in the studio light, deft fingers poised. The memories I have of those hands, my body. When his lips quirk into that smirk, I know what he's thinking of. We'll probably write a song about it, but doing it with the band might not be the best idea.

He glances away. The moment is over, and we fall back into that awkward stillness that hangs heavily upon us.

Eventually, Stephie can't take it anymore.

"Say something!" Stephie snaps, tossing her guitar down with a little more force than necessary. "Come on, Riley, I know you're mad at me. Say something! Snap at me! Get angry! Tell me how badly I fucked up or how stupid I was. Do it."

"Steph," Perry murmurs.

"It's okay," Riley cuts in. He stands to his feet and crosses the room. On one knee, he kneels in front of her. He takes her hand as she starts to cry. She's beside herself, actually, sobbing so hard her body quivers with each cry.

"I should've been more careful," Stephie whimpers. "I should've done more to hide it. Holly didn't want you to know. She didn't want anyone to know. She—"

Riley sighs and brings her into a hug. She buries her face in his leather jacket, lost for words.

"They'll forget about it. They always do. It's just a shock and it's just the story of the day, but soon, Taylor Swift will have a new boyfriend and I'll do something stupid and it won't matter," he assures her. "Come on, Stephie, be real. What happened to you? You were fearless."

"Fearless?" she echoes. "God, I'm so scared."

I remember when Faraway Blues first broke onto the music scene. Everyone admired Stephie because of the image she projected. She was proud of being queer, and she acted as if there was nothing to it. She started movements in more ways than one. Whether it was her clothes or her attitude, Stephie was herself, the kind of girl everyone wanted to be.