Page 95 of Seeking Stars
"Dread," she said. "I don't know how big this can get and it scares me. Could this become a second wave of opportunistic tabloid bullshit, or stay contained?"
"I get it," he told her as he threw his pants and socks in the same general direction as his shirt. He stood in his boxer briefs. "You want to know what you're contending with."
"Yeah. More than anything, I want to keep it in check."
She studied him when he didn't say anything. He looked really sad, vulnerable in only his underwear, despite the powerful body. He took a couple of steps to her and held her.
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" she asked.
"This is happening because of who I am."
"No, it's happening because of the industry and how they treat people who do what you do."
The line of his shoulders relaxed, the tension in his back under her hands softened.
"Then I'm sorry because there's nothing I can do to fix it," he added.
"I suppose it means there's nothing I can do to control it, either."
"No, there's nothing. Even the absence of an attempt is fuel for someone on the internet to say mean things."
She shook her head in frustration.
"How did you learn to cope? What can I do? I mean, I should like the publicity, right? But I'm not sure this counts and I'm kind of hating it."
"I do my best to ignore what's going on, to remember it's all a mirage. That I know what's true and that it has to be enough, if the people I care about believe me. I sometimes tweet or put things on social media but I don't really interact with anyone. And I never, ever read comments if I can avoid it."
"That's so counterintuitive," she said, putting her head on his shoulder. "I built my small platform by doing the opposite."
"Just remember, the mean people are loud, the big fans too. The people you need to reach and for whom you work are the ones in the middle. And they're the quietest. You won't see them in your notifications the same way."
"So I stay out of it," she said.
"You stay out of it," he confirmed, kissing the crown of her head.
Sunday
Upon opening her eyes, Ana found Liam already awake. He sat up, his back to the bedrest, the sheets down to his waist. He held his phone in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed.
She leaned sideways to kiss his arm.
"Morning," she said. "Everything okay?"
"Coulton is freaking out," he replied without looking at her, typing fast on his phone. "He didn't know I didn't go back to LA and he's angry nobody thought to let him know."
"Geez, the guy isn't your guardian."
"I don't think he knows that," Liam said as he continued to tap, thumbs furious on the device. "I'm writing an email to remind him."
She stretched in bed.
"He also said some of the pictures from last night were used by a tabloid— he was pretty upset that that's how he learned of me being here."
She lay quiet for a while. "Did you see the pictures? Or what the tabloid said?"
"No."
