Therapy for Souls

14. Trouble's Brewing

 Tour a proporio rischio. In alternating black and pink lipstick, those words burn my eyes, eclipsing my reflection in the mirror. It feels like the hundredth time I've seen them, but the count is less than twenty. Still, it's a serious threat. It doesn't matter how it's written; I'm still in deep shit.

I've wondered why it keeps appearing, what I did to deserve this. The first time I saw this phrase, it was through a Twitter DM. Somehow, it escalated through text. It thought it was a harmless joke at first, but the texts cemented the message's gravity. Giovanna's car graffiti is not joke either. Message read loud and clear.

You need to show this to Gi, I think as I snap a photo of the evidence. She needs to see this so we can increase security. How are you supposed to feel safe when someone's clearly threatening you? What if something happens? What if there's a repeat of the Manch—

INCOMING CALL: KRISTIAN KOSTOV

"Kristian! Hey...what's up?" I answer as calmly as possible, hoping he won't sense the panic in my tone.

"I know I already tweeted, but I want to wish you good luck for tonight in person," he responds, flashing a smile that makes me swoon inside

"I kinda regret my response. Some of our fans took it the wrong way and think I was suggesting more."

He chuckles and shoots a cheeky wink. I see what game he's playing. I roll my eyes and scoff, feigning disinterest.

"We haven't even been on a first date yet," I remark.

"But you would, wouldn't you?" he teases.

"Cockiness is a major turnoff, Kostov. Please!"

"Fine! I will not talk more about that. Are you still nervous for tonight?"

"Yeah," I sigh. I lower my gaze and grumble. "It's jus—I don't know. It's the first show of tour and my anxiety is through the roof. I should be used to this by now and nerves are normal, bu—"

"Do not worry about it. You will definitely kill it, Parisa. The show will be amazing and you will see so much love from your fans about how awesome it was when it's over."

I run a hand through my hair and blush. "You really know how to make a girl feel better about herself, Kristian. You just earned some points back."

"I try," he laughs. "Thanks. It's easy when the girl is you. I can't wait for Paris—I can't wait to see you."

Kristian always seems to know what to say. Why I overlooked him during Eurovision, I don't understand. Actually, I do. All the hype around him didn't appeal to me, but I'm past it now.

I like the guy I've been texting. I like him a lot. Since my career took off, it's hard to weed out guys who want to date me for fame versus the ones who genuinely like me. I don't have to worry about that with Kristian because I know he doesn't have a hidden agenda. I know he won't use me and I know his feelings are true from the way we've texted.

"You know, I can't wait for our date either," I bashfully confess, cursing myself for going crimson again. . "It's all my manager can think about! I don't know who's more excited—her or me."

"I hope it's you. I would be a little weird if she is more excited than you."

"Kristian, you don't know Giovanna Ferragni. She's basically obsessed with what we could be. She spoke to my parents about us," I argue. "But I do like you, and I am looking forward to our date. I hope you have something amazing planned."

"Actually, I have no idea what to do. If you do not have fun, I apologize right now."

"No, I like the whole 'wing it' plan! You have time to impress me, Kostov. No pressure."

"Oh, thanks!" he laughs. "Now I feel like I have to do something big like rent a football stadium."

"I don't expect something that extreme. Honestly, I'm an easy person to please. It can be something as simple as a day at the zoo. We can do something outdoors. I love nature!"

"I will take that into thought. We will just see what happens when the day comes. All I can promise is it will be fun. I'm really looking forward to it Parisa. I can't stop thinking about y—"

Someone repeatedly calls my name. Either they're right beside me, or their voice is amplified because they're talking so loud!

"PARISA! PARISA! PARISA!" they shout, making my eardrums vibrate as my body shakes.

I never realized my eyes were closed until a blinding ray of white light flashes before me. My eyes cautiously flutter open and squint from the brightness. It's a flashlight.

I regain consciousness and notice that the lights are off and I'm lying down...on a sofa. Marya and Erela look like giants as they loom over me and wave. What the hell is going on?

"Wh-what happened?" I croak, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"With your or the lights?" Marya wonders.

"Both. How did I get here and why are the lights off?" I clarify.

"You stomped out of your room after your session with Viktor," Erela explains.

"I thought I crashed in my room," I note, staring up at them confused.

"Somehow you came out here," Marya says with a shrug. "I saw you stomp into here, myself. You were grumbling about Viktor being an asshole and thinking he's uh, 'all that and a bag of chips,' you said."

"Merda," I swear under my breath. (Shit)

"Then you forced me to hand over my phone," Marya continues. "You didn't notice, but I watched over your shoulder and you checked Viktor's Rapidgram a—"

"Rapidgram?" I question. "What's that?"

"It's our version of Instagram," Erela answers.

So they do have social media here, I think to myself. Wonder what Twitter is. It's probably something stupid li—

"You tried to get dirt on Viktor going through his social media," Marya continues. "You found something and then...you collapsed. I fetched Erela and we've been watching over you for the past three hours."

"THREE HOURS? I've been unconscious for three hours?" I cry, bolting up. "Wait. Why was I going through Viktor's social media again? What did I find?"

Marya and Erela suspiciously glance at each other. Whatever I found, it has to be big. The tea has to be scalding. Why else would they be hesitant about telling me?

"WHAT? JUST SPIT IT OUT!" I demand.

"You should talk to him about it," Erela suggests. Wow, way to be helpful and not tell me what I should talk to him about. "You should also mention that dream you just had. He'll want to know you're thinking of Kristian."

"H-how do you know I dre—"

"She reads dreams," a voice that sounds like Viktor's responds. Light suddenly appears and his body illuminates under it. "I suggest you go back to your room and rest more, Parisa. We'll talk about your dream, your funeral, and Kristian our next session."

A/N:

Hello! Sorry this chapter is so short. I've had so much trouble getting my head straight, but this is all I could come up with. What did you think about Parisa's little flashback dream (nightmare?)? What do you think Parisa found in Viktor's social media? 

Love you guys so much! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next chapter! xx