Page 105 of The Jack*ss in Class

My phone was still on the floor, the call with Gloria disconnected. I should call her back. Should explain the situation. Should do a dozen responsible things.

Instead, I closed my eyes and let Flynn hold me, let myself believe, just for a moment, that I wasn’t alone in this.

When I finally felt steady enough to stand, Flynn helped me up, his hands gentle but sure. I splashed water on my face at the sink, avoiding my reflection.

“Someone at FlixNChill leaked my identity,” I said hoarsely. “They don’t know who, but it’s out there now. It’s only a matter of time before everyone knows.”

Flynn’s expression hardened, protective instinct flashing in his eyes. “That’s some bullshit right there, babe. I’m sorry this is happening.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I gripped the edge of the sink. The ringing in my ears started up again and?—

“Hey.” He turned me to face him, hands on my shoulders. “This might change how people see you, but anyone who doesn’t like what you’re doing can fuck off. I’ll crush anyone who says a goddamned thing to you. Okay?”

“You don’t understand,” I whispered. “My family... mymother... they don’t know. They’re going to find out from strangers that I’ve been lying to them for years.”

What was I doing? I’d spent years carefully compartmentalizing my life, keeping my worlds separate. Then Flynn had come along, and I’d let down my walls. I’d told him everything. What if that had been the first crack in the foundation? What if letting one person in meant I couldn’t keep everyone else out?

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” I said, my voice still raw.

“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, pulling me into his arms again. “Whatever happens, I’ll be there to help you through it.”

The simple certainty in his voice nearly undid me. I squeezed him hard, knowing in my heart I’d been right to trust him. But he didn’t understand the judgment, the chastising, the disappointment I was about to face. And even if he was there with me, holding me like this, I still had to suffer it all alone, inside my own damn head.

“I just... I’ve worked so hard to keep my worlds separate.” I murmured. The thought of everyone finding out, of my family’s reaction?—”

“I get it,” he said, though we both knew he couldn’t fully understand. His life had always been public, his successes and probably even his minuscule failures celebrated openly. “But you don’t have to face any of it alone. Not anymore.”

And for just a moment, surrounded by the LA morning light streaming through the windows, I almost believed him.

They changed my flight back to Denver to go with the Kingmans. But the return felt like crossing a boundary,leaving behind the fantasy of LA where I could be both Tempest and Miranda, returning to reality where those identities had to remain separate. Flynn dozed beside me, his head occasionally dipping toward my shoulder. I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I obsessively refreshed social media, searching for any hint that my secret was leaking.

Gloria texted before takeoff.

Gloria Horne: Confirmed with exec team. They’re containing it. Identity reveal NOT planned. All good. Breathe.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling of impending disaster.

When the plane landed, Flynn suggested we visit Burrito Petito and Abuela. “Nothing cures anxiety like donkey therapy.”

If anyone knew how to deal with celebrity drama, it was AbuelaNovela. Before she married Abuelo Leo, she’d been married a bunch of times, had two children, and divorced her no-good cheating husbands back when women weren’t even allowed to have their own bank accounts. All while being a huge telenovela star and then starting her own career in Hollywood.

Burrito greeted us with his typical enthusiasm, braying loudly and pushing his velvety nose into my hands. Abuela watched from the porch, a knowing smile playing at her lips as Flynn scratched behind the donkey’s ears.

“Mi amor,” she said, embracing me. “How was your trip with your handsome footballer?”

“The handsome footballer part was good,” I said, forcing a smile. “Really good.”

“But something is troubling you.” It wasn’t a question. Nothing ever escaped Abuela’s notice.

I was sure Abuela knew about my writing, but I’d never actually told her myself. I’d lied even to her, my biggest supporter in life. God, what was wrong with me?

She studied me for a moment, then patted my cheek. “You know, mi Tempestina, secrets are like seeds. Buried in the dark, they find a way to grow toward the light, no matter how deep you plant them.” Her eyes twinkled. “Sometimes it’s better to plant them in the open, where you can control how they grow.”

My stomach clenched. “But even if I can control how they grow, it doesn’t mean people won’t stomp on them, tell them they don’t belong, and make them feel small and ugly.”

She took my hand in hers and shifted her attention to Flynn who was now taking selfies with the donkey. “That boy cares for you deeply. Your Abuelo Leo looks at me just the same way your footballer does you.”

I followed her gaze, my heart aching with unexpected tenderness as Flynn looked up, catching me watching him.

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