Page 72 of Plot Twist
Because I’m a coward.
Because I didn’t want you to leave me.
Because I ruin everything.
Dash sat on the edge of her bed and let his head fall into his hands. He felt sure that he was about to lose Sophie, and he deserved to: he wasn’t good enough for her in the first place. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he’d hurt her, and all he wanted to do was make sure she was okay. “I’m so used to handling things on my own and keeping my life private.” He looked up at her, and she watched him, but there was still hurt lingering behind her eyes. “This just seemed like something I needed to take care of myself. And I didn’t want to drag you into any of it because then you might not want anything to do with me or my messy life. You deserve someone who doesn’t have all these problems.”
Sophie knelt next to the bed. She put a hand on his knee and he covered her hand with his. “It just makes me so sad that you didn’t trust me with any of this.”
And then his heart completely cracked open at the realization that he was losing something he knew he couldn’t give up.
“Dash.” Her voice was so gentle and kind. “I just need a little time to process all this. We’re friends, and we’ll always be friends no matter what. But I think everything has gotten muddled. Like, what are we even doing, really? You don’t want anything serious, but I do. I need to fix things with Poppy, and you need to focus on the speech tomorrow.”
The speech.The absolute last thing he wanted to do was stand in front of a crowd and pretend like he was part of one big happy family. But Sophie was right. He didn’t want to lead her on when he wasn’t ready to get into a real commitment. If he was actually ready to date again, he wouldn’t have hidden all these secrets from her.
“You probably should go home and rest.” She wiped her thumb across his cheek. “Your mom would kill me if she found out I’m the reason you have puffy eyes before a red carpet.”
He laughed, and she cracked a small smile, too. “Are you still coming tomorrow? I’d like you to.” His voice was low because he already knew the answer would be no.
“Let me think about it, okay?” Sophie stood, and so did Dash. But as he walked through her place and toward her front door, his heart raced at the idea that because he’d hidden so much from her, he’d completely lost her trust.
31
SOPHIE
Sophie was in a swing-a-baseball-bat-and-blow-car-windows-out kind of mood, so she’d picked a fiery-red dress with a plunging neckline and gold kitten heels. Her outfit had to match her thoughts, which were vengeful and a bit angry.
Mostly, she was angry at herself for trusting Dash. And then angry at him for keeping so many secrets. But also angry about the fact that she might never fall in love. She was close to falling with Dash, but she’d also been close to falling with Carla, and look how that had turned out. She’d always be the romance author who’d never fall in love.
She couldn’t wait to filmthatTikTok video.
“Not that Dash was ever even a real option, seeing as how he doesn’t want a relationship!” She shouted the words to the shirtless photo of Richard Gere that she’d taped to her bedroom wall, just above Rain Boots’s bowl. They both needed a pick-me-up after the earthquake from the day before. “Why did I do this to myself? Why did I pursue something with an unavailable person?”
She still wasn’t sure if she was going to the Walk of Fame ceremony, even though she’d already dressed the part. She just didn’t know if seeing Dash was a good idea. Maybe having her in the audience would be a distraction, in a bad way. Still, he’d told her he wanted her there, and even though they were in a kind of fight, or whatever, he’d shown up for her—getting her to write again—and she needed to return the favor.
“Wish me luck,” she said to Rain Boots, then blew Richard Gere a kiss.
The security guard in front of the white tent pursed his lips as he scanned his tablet for Sophie’s name. The event took place at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Vine—a notoriously touristy and swamped intersection that the city had shut down specifically for the ceremony.
“My name is Sophie Lyon.” She cleared her throat. “I should be on the list.”
Unless Dash had changed his mind and taken her off the list, of course...
“Right this way.” He opened the velvet rope—an actual velvet rope, with red fabric and gold metal poles—and she walked through it. A second guard attached a blue bracelet that would give her greenroom access.
The ceremony was set to start in twenty, and Sophie was sure the greenroom was where Dash would be. So she would just walk through quickly, avoid Dash, and find her seat. Sophie ducked in through the canvas door and entered the backstage tent. The makeshift holding area was crowded with men in suits, which Sophie assumed were industry insiders like agents, managers, and publicists.
There was also, of course, the Montrose family. If this was any other circumstance, Sophie would be thrilled to see Poppy, but as she clocked her best friend deep in conversation with William, an ache rose in her chest. Now they were both in the same room, and if she and Poppy were ever going to speak again, she’d have to be the one to try. She needed to find her seat, but maybe a quick amends-making pit stop wouldn’t hurt. She shook out her shoulders, walked up, and tapped Poppy on the arm.
“Hey, Poppy,” Sophie said. She tried to channel the confidence of the celebrity impersonators just outside the tent asking for tips as they walked Hollywood Boulevard. But she was sweating behind her knees, so how confident could she really look?
Poppy turned with a bright smile on her face, but as she noticed Sophie she pursed her lips. “Oh, no. This isn’t happening.” Poppy’s index finger waggled between them. “We’re not talking.”
Sophie glanced to William, who didn’t say a word, but his eyes noticeably widened.Okay, she would try a different approach. After all, she wasn’t afraid of confrontation the way she used to be. And maybe Poppy just needed to be reminded of the fact that they werebestfriends, and no one would change that.
“I totally get that you’re still upset. I will respect that. But I just wanted to say that I’m happy to see you, and I really love your dress.” Sophie waved a hand at the crisp, white sheath with gold cuffs that hit Poppy’s midthigh and left her tanned, golden legs on full display.
“It’s vintage.” Poppy crossed her arms. “I upcycled. But don’t think that compliment makes everything better.”
