Prologue

POV Gravity

4 YEARS AGO

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2020, 4:00 PM

My heart betrays me. Like the perfect fool it is, it races wrongly as Ashton grabs my wrist, leading us to his room at the end of the cabin's hallway.

I avoid looking back at our friends gathered in the living room, stunned by his outburst upon discovering I accepted a scholarship to study in Milan.

Before Ashton and I became entangled in this bubble of lies, I knew I was only in Humperville to escape my past. Although I recognize that a few miles make no difference to those who already have a set opinion about you.

I twist my wrist until Ashton can no longer press it between his fingers, and I manage to free myself. I walk ahead of him, marching toward the door. As I push it open, I imagine it’s his head I’m about to slam against the wall.

It gives me immense satisfaction.

It’s been months since what happened in Paris. Months since I set the hurt aside and replaced it with something entirely new: anger.

I never thought I would be betrayed one day. The only person who ever loved me—loved me until their last minute—left me behind, absorbing a guilt as frightening as death itself… And it was Ashton who made me feel betrayed for the first time.

I’ve spent the last few years protecting myself from the past, from the deep wounds that tore through my soul. No one would believe me if I told them. Not even my best friends would see through the scars if I let them get close.

I’m just a decaying body, carrying a pain that never stops aching, a past that never stops returning, and awaiting the visit of a history that haunts me at night.

I don’t know if I hate him more because of Paris or because of the effect he has on me when he’s around.

I want him to know. Even if I can’t say it out loud, I hope Ashton Baker knows how much his lies blinded my heart again.

He slams the door shut as we enter. The walls vibrate around us, and the overwhelming sensation returns, this time sharper.

Being alone with Ashton and just my conscience, forcing me not to falter, feels like having no way out. I feel his scent invade my nostrils. The pulse under my skin unsettles me.

His coal-black eyes analyze my stance. I imagine he’s studying the possibility of getting closer, and when he threatens to do what I think he will, I step back. The edge of my butt hits his desk, and I brace myself for the clash.

Ashton and I are like fire and gasoline. No matter what happens, any word is a spark that could ignite a blaze.

Ruffling his dark hair, he advances toward me. I notice the unusual gleam in his eyes, and I choke on the air. My breath may be held, but the pounding of my heart in my chest is not.

It’s one of the things I dislike about Ashton: he may not know me, but he knows my body. He knows how to handle my reactions. He knows how to make them his allies.

"You’re going to listen to me now!" he demands. He traps me. Just a few steps away, he positions himself as a barrier, preventing me from escaping. "You’re going to listen, Gravity," he repeats, as if I need confirmation to understand there’s no way out.

"I’m waiting," I challenge, gesturing with my chin as a sign of defiance. "I’m dying to hear the story about how you disappeared in Paris and then I found you with your ex-girlfriend. The way you both acted when I found you, Ashton, can only mean one thing…"

"It was a kiss," he admits, and I don’t know—part of me had hoped nothing had happened.

I cross my arms.

"But I didn’t sleep with her."

"When?"

Ashton rubs the back of his neck, taking a deep breath. I can feel the tension radiating from his pores.

"The last day. I swear. When Nicola kissed me, I packed my bags and…"

"You were going to run away so you wouldn’t have to tell me?" I accuse, narrowing my eyes at him. "Why? And what would you do afterward, when you were back in Humperville?"

"Gravity, Nicola has an eating disorder." I freeze, my jaw tightens, and I don’t know if I can believe him. "She’s getting better, improving every day, but she has relapses, and when she needs someone, she calls me, and I’m there for her. That weekend, coincidentally, I was in Paris for work, and she had some triggers. That day when neither you nor Effy could reach me, I was at the hospital with her. I’m the only person she can call and share these things with. And honestly, how could I explain all this to you, knowing you were already aware of my situation with her?"

"So, you’re telling me that no matter what happens, if she calls you now, you’ll go?"

"No, damn it!" he shouts, stepping back, and I release my arms to rest my hands on the desk. "I’m telling you that I can’t refuse to help someone I care about. Nicola doesn’t need my protection, just my support, and I want to give her that if I can."

"Have you ever considered that she might be using her illness to hold on to you?"

In his expression, I see the pain caused by my accusation, and for the first time, he makes me feel small.

"Do you have any idea how much the modeling career destroys her? Do you know how hard she works to be perfect, Gravity? You’re a designer. Tell me, designers are always looking for the perfect body to showcase their clothes, aren’t they? That pressure with restrictive diets and the toxic relationship with food—you have no idea what it’s like!"

He’s so furious with me that I start to feel guilty for a story I have nothing to do with.

Yes, I know this world.

Yes, I know what a model’s life and routine are like.

And yes, I know that eating disorders are common in this industry. It destroys me, and I want to be someone who changes that in the future. I want women to be proud of their bodies, wearing clothes that value them, without being forced to change to fit into them. That’s what I want. For them not to feel pressured or obligated to follow a standard to fit in.

"I didn’t know any of this until that day in Paris, and damn…" He sighs, pacing the room with a certain desperation. "On the last day we met, I treated her so badly on the phone, and I was scared something might happen again. Can you try to understand me? Please?"

"You didn’t even apologize…" My brow furrows, and he stops walking. "In Paris, you didn’t apologize for what you did. You just kept asking a thousand times to explain yourself, but you never said you were sorry." I take a deep breath, trying to hide my nervousness, and I think I succeed because he doesn’t even take his eyes off mine.

"You were never sorry," I finally understand.

"No," he accepts my accusation.

"You’d do it all over again."

"I would because I’m not going to turn my back on her, Gravity. I’ve already accepted that a part of me will always care."

"And what do you want from me?"

"I want you to know I didn’t hurt you on purpose."

I scoff bitterly.

"And that you’re important to me, I…"

"Stop," I interrupt, stepping away from the desk. "I can’t tell you I don’t understand. I know what it’s like when someone leaves a deep mark, but I can’t let you lie to me again."

"Gravity, it’s not a lie. I like you, damn it, you have no idea." He furrows his brows and stops me when I try to go to the door.

He’s right—I don’t. We think differently about what it means to care about someone. Even if he had all the reasons to go after her, he still chose to lie to me. Even if the kiss he gave her meant nothing, he still made the decision to run away.

"You don’t care about me, Ashton," I blurt out all at once before losing my nerve. "Maybe you’ve lost sight of what that feeling really is. Maybe you’re still so entangled with Nicola that you don’t realize what it means. Maybe you’re just making excuses not to admit that you still love your ex. You said you felt betrayed when she used you as a passport to model for your father’s jewelry brand. Don’t make me feel betrayed because you can’t resolve your feelings for her."

I walk past him, and for a split second, I feel relieved to be putting distance between us. But Ashton stops me. His fingers grip my elbow firmly, pulling me back to my previous position. I’m trapped between his wall of muscles and the desk.

My breathing tears through the air, but I force myself to keep my features composed, as if everything that’s been said so far isn’t spinning in a blender, making my head ache.

"Let me go," I plead, keeping my voice calm and restrained.

"No. I can’t."

"Ashton, listen to me." I turn my head toward him, our eyes locking. "Whatever you have with Nicola is something I don’t want to be involved in. You’re emotionally dependent on her, and she’s on you. You’ve known each other for years, and that makes the intimacy a thread tying you together. I get it, it’s hard to cut, but dragging others into it is selfish. Besides, when the band takes off, what happens? You leave, and I stay? Wondering if you’re spending your nights with her? Any chance we had of being together is gone. You know it is, but you’re too proud to admit it. So I’m saying it for both of us—leave me alone."

"Don’t screw this up, Gravity. You don’t want this."

I tilt my head back, a sigh escapes my throat. I close my eyes, feeling the grip on my arm loosen until I’m free.

"You know I don’t play games. If I want to be with someone, I simply am. And if I don’t, I walk away. That’s how it works."

"And what about us?"

"The way it’s always been. We’re friends."

"You really want to screw me over, don’t you?" His brow furrows. "You know damn well we’ll never be friends."

"If it comforts you, I’m not happy about having to deal with you either. To be honest, I hate you too much right now to even consider any kind of friendly relationship. But Delilah just woke up from a coma, and she’s one of my best friends. I’m not going to ruin the time I have left with her trying to figure out whatever it is you think you feel for me."