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HER
He couldn't possibly ever think she would love him. Right? It was impossible even to think about. Sure, she felt comfortable enough to trust him in such short notice, but love? Love had become a thing she'd grown to treat as an overwhelming level of happiness. Purely selfish, if she must put it frankly, for the people she used to think she loved clearly knew things more important than loving her back.
She could feel his gaze on her as she listened to some piano music that had proven effective in helping her think, could almost hear his confused thoughts and curiosity. Trying her best to shut it out, she slowly - very slowly - began to let herself be.
The key word being "trying" because as soon as she'd relaxed, her phone buzzed frantically. Out of eagerness to end the vibrations, she picked it up hastily without even looking at the Caller ID and greeted the caller.
"Hello?" She asked, turning the earphones in her hand and stealing peeks at Lance who had diverted his attention to his little camera.
"J-Julia?" Dominico's voice sounded like it had been broken into a million tiny pieces, so hurt that she subconsciously dropped her earphones with wide eyes. "Please say something, Jules, talk to me. I can't stay in this stupid hotel anymore where everyone is just rushing to service "the Dominico Cross Hart", not when the person who made me who I am doesn't care, not when you're not here to laugh at me at how dumb they are to be treating weird old me that way, not when you won't even look at me because Goddamnit, Jules, I need you so that I can live with myself. You're my sister, Julia Axel Hart, you'll always be my best friend. I won't even leave, I'll cancel it, just please say something!"
"Cross, I -" Her voice was trembling, she was sure of it, and soon her hands would be, too.
"Don't call me that." He sniffed, and she could picture him then. Dom was fragile, but he never cried unless he was really hurting. The last time he'd cried, it was because of her, because she'd been crying because of a lost opportunity. Then again, if she thought about it, she was the only one who could make him cry. She never wanted to be.
"I hate it when you're hurt. Come on, Dom, stop crying." She pleaded, shrinking into the table.
"What else do you suggest I do? It's been days, Jules. Days! We used to talk every few hours." He yelled into the phone and she winced, pinching her fingers to stop shaking.
She exhaled deeply, quietening him. "I," she took another deep breath, "I have been thinking about it, you know? You moving to San Andreas for good? And I thought that maybe -"
"I'm not going."
"Wh-what?"
"I am not going to San Andreas. Ever. I hate that place now. Because it made you not -"
"Shut up, Cross. Shut the hell up, you genius. I wasn't mad at you because you were going to leave New York! I was freaking mad at you because of your stupid empty promises that you make every single time you have to leave! 'Oh, I'll call you every single day like I usually do, Jules, don't worry' and then what do I get? Nothing. Days and weeks and months of you texting me that 'oh, I'm sorry, Jules, it was Dakota Vi, her sophisticated self wanted me to take her out to a movie' or 'sorry, Ju, my new best friend Rivers Ackerfield and I went out for some skateboarding' or 'gee, Julia, my manager Nash wants me to just keep working all day long, call you later'!" She mocked him.
"But -"
"I don't have many friends because you, you scare them all away and make them think I'm this hotshot who's too rich for friends. I don't even talk to anyone else that much except you, not even mom or dad. Who do you think you are? I wasn't just going to let you barge into SA for good when you couldn't even handle making time for me when you were away for mere months. Sure, I yelled at you, sure, I was mad and angry, and sure, I was going to give you the silent treatment for a few days. But, do you even know me? If you did, you'd know that I would've watched your movies eventually, would've vaguely commented on some sort of your social media and -"
"And yet pretended not to care because you didn't want to give in first?"
"And that."
"It's just that Nash's been too demanding lately. He keeps telling me that I've got to work 24/7 if I want to keep my fame. And when I'm not in the mood to listen to him, he hurries off to dad and soon enough there's a personal assistant hired my way to keep me in check. I want a month break."
"The question right now is, Dom, do you want to go to San Andreas? What are the kinds of movies waiting for you there? How are your coworkers going to be? What's the directors' method and where will you be staying? How busy will you be? What kind of status do you have to keep up -" This time she cut off herself when some peppermint tea slid towards her. She looked up to see Lance's concerned gaze embraced by a comforting soft smile. She nodded in acknowledgement.
There was a pause on the other end. "Damn, you should be my manager."
"Oh, please, no one wants to be bothered by you. Don't flatter yourself."
"Say that to my 100 million followers on Instagram, my 83 million followers on Twitter, 90 million followers on Tumblr, and 63 million followers on Wattpad. Say that to them."
"How about I just say that to my friend who might just be your number one fanboy?"
"It's done, then. Say that to Lance Taylors."
"That's it. We're done here."
"I want to go to San Andreas especially because they're making a movie based on Stay by Alexis Ford and Beat It by Jack Reacher. I know those are some of your favorite books. And what's more is that they're turning the book series you love the most - This Is Us Every Year by the legendary Ezra Redd - into a TV show. And the casters want me in all of them. I'm going to be Aaron Warner, Marcus Jameson and Lake Inkheart."
"I'm your number one fangirl. You are so going to San Andreas."
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I say we cast Colton Haynes as Dominico Cross Hart, or Francisco Lachowski. Help an indecisive author out? They need not necessarily be heteroeyed, we can imagine that part.
