Between The Lies

Chapter 15: Crossing the Line

STELLA

Thursday at four PM, I'm sitting in Ms. Rodriguez's office waiting for Isabella Moretti.

My hands won't stop shaking. I don't know why I'm so nervous. It's just a meeting about dance opportunities. Nothing more.

Except every time I think about Isabella, I remember the way she looked at me. Like she recognized something. Like she knew me.

The door opens and she walks in, professional and elegant in a black blazer and dress pants.

"Stella. Thank you for meeting with me." She sits across from me, and again, I'm struck by how similar our eyes are. "I've been looking forward to talking with you."

"Thank you for the opportunity, Ms. Moretti."

"Please, call me Isabella." She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I wanted to discuss the Vivian Arts Academy summer intensive program. Based on what I've seen and what Ms. Rodriguez has told me, I think you'd be an excellent fit."

We talk for thirty minutes about the program. The training. The opportunities. The chance to work with renowned choreographers.

"It's in New York," Isabella says. "You'd be there for eight weeks. Living in our campus housing, training six days a week. It's intensive, but it could open doors for your future."

Eight weeks away from Los Angeles. Away from home. Away from Luca.

"It sounds amazing," I say honestly.

"You'd need to audition, of course. But I can fast-track your application if you're interested." She pauses, studying my face. "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Sure."

"You remind me of someone. Your features, your eyes especially." She says it carefully, like she's testing the waters. "Do you know much about your family history? Where your parents are from?"

The question catches me off guard. "My parents are from here. California."

"And your grandparents?"

"I... I don't really know much about them. My parents don't talk about family history much."

Isabella nods slowly, like this confirms something. "I see. Well, you have a very distinctive look. It's striking. Memorable."

There's something in the way she says it. Something that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

"Thank you," I say, not knowing what else to say.

"Think about the summer program," Isabella says, standing. "You have real talent, Stella. Don't waste it."

The meeting ends, and I'm left with more questions than answers.

I drive home, Isabella's words echoing in my head. The way she looked at me. The questions about my family.

When I pull into the driveway around five-thirty, Luca's car is already there.

I walk inside to find him in the kitchen, pretending to make dinner.

"Hey," I say, dropping my bag on the counter. "How was your day?"

"Fine. How was the meeting with Isabella?"

"Good. Really good actually. She offered me a spot in their summer intensive program in New York."

"That's great, Stella. You should do it."

"Maybe." I open the fridge. "Derek's picking me up in a bit. We're hanging out at his place tonight."

I watch Luca's jaw clench. "His place?"

"Yeah. His parents are out of town, so we'll have the house to ourselves." I say it casually, even though I see the pain flash across his face. "He said we could just relax, watch movies."

"Stella—"

"What?" I turn to look at him, and there's a challenge in my eyes even though my stomach is churning. "Are you going to tell me not to go?"

"No. I just—" He stops himself. "Be safe. That's all."

"I will."

I go upstairs to change, my heart pounding. I don't want to go. Don't want to spend the evening with Derek. But I have to keep up this charade. Have to keep pretending.

Twenty minutes later, I come back down in jeans and a sweater.

Headlights flash through the window. Derek's here.

"Don't wait up," I say, grabbing my purse.

I don't look back at Luca as I walk out the door.

Derek is all smiles, opening the passenger door for me. He hands me white roses.

"For my beautiful girlfriend," he says.

White roses. My favorite. How did he know?

"They're beautiful. Thank you."

We drive to his house, and the whole way, all I can think about is Luca's face when I left.

Derek's house is exactly what I expected. Big. Modern. Empty.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he says, leading me inside. "Want something to drink? I've got wine, beer, soda..."

"Wine sounds good."

He pours us both glasses of red wine. Expensive stuff from his parents' collection.

We sit on the couch. He puts on a movie. Some action thing I'm not paying attention to.

"To us," Derek says, raising his glass.

"To us," I echo, clinking glasses with him.

The wine is good. Smooth. I drink it faster than I should, trying to quiet the voice in my head that keeps saying this is wrong.

"Easy there," Derek laughs. "We've got all night."

All night. Right.

He refills my glass without me asking.

We watch the movie. Or he watches it. I'm just drinking, trying to feel something other than guilt.

The second glass hits harder than the first.

Derek's arm slides around my shoulders. "You're so beautiful," he says, his voice lower than before. "I've wanted this for so long. Just us. Alone."

His hand moves from my shoulder to my waist.

"Derek—"

"Shh. Just relax." He leans in to kiss me, and I let him because that's what girlfriends do.

But it feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.

"Want more wine?" he asks when he pulls back.

"I probably shouldn't—"

He's already pouring. "Come on. We're celebrating. You and me. Finally getting some real alone time."

I take the glass because I don't know what else to do. Don't know how to be the girlfriend he wants me to be.

Three glasses. Maybe four. The room starts spinning.

Derek's face is too close. His hands are everywhere.

"I really like you, Stella," he's saying. His hand slides onto my thigh. "I want to take things to the next level. You know?"

"Derek, I don't think—"

"Don't think. Just feel." He kisses me again, harder this time. More insistent.

"Wait—"

"It's okay. We're alone. No one has to know." His hand slides higher on my thigh, and panic starts cutting through the alcohol haze.

"Derek, stop."

"Come on, babe. You said you'd come over. You knew what this meant." His hand reaches for the button on my jeans.

"No!" I push him away, harder this time. "I said stop!"

"Stella—"

"I don't want this!" I scramble off the couch, stumbling. The room tilts. "I need to leave."

"Are you serious right now?" Derek stands up, frustration written all over his face. "You're just going to tease me and then leave?"

"I wasn't teasing! I didn't want—" Tears stream down my face. "I have to go."

"You drank my parents' expensive wine, let me think we were finally going to—"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? But I can't do this."

I grab my purse and run for the door.

"Stella, wait! Don't be like this!"

But I'm already outside, the cold air hitting my face, my vision blurry with tears and wine.

I pull out my phone with shaking hands.

I need to go home. I need Luca.

I dial his number and sink down onto the curb, hugging my knees.

It rings. Once. Twice.

"Hello?"

His voice breaks something open in me.

"Luca." I can barely speak through the sobs. "Can you... can you come get me?"

LUCA

(Earlier that evening)

I watch through the window as Derek picks up Stella.

The white roses. Her smile. The way she gets into his truck without looking back.

And they're gone.

I stand in the empty kitchen, staring at nothing, my hands clenched into fists.

I can't do this anymore.

Can't watch her leave with him.

Can't imagine what they're doing right now.

Can't survive another second of this.

I pull out my phone and call Jake.

"Yo, what's up?"

"You busy? Need some company."

"You sound weird, man. Everything okay?"

"No. Can you bring alcohol?"

"...Yeah. On my way."

Jake shows up twenty minutes later with a six-pack of beer and a bottle of whiskey.

"Alright," he says, setting everything on the counter. "What's going on? You sounded really off on the phone."

I pour us both drinks. Big ones.

"Just need to not think for a while."

"About what?"

"Everything. Life. Family. The showcase coming up."

"The showcase." Jake takes a drink. "That's in like ten days, right? You ready?"

"Musically, yeah."

"What about everything else?"

"Everything else is a disaster."

We drink. Jake talks about basketball, about this girl in his chemistry class, about college applications. Normal stuff. Safe stuff.

I barely hear him. All I can think about is Stella at Derek's house. What he might be doing. What she might be letting him do.

"Dude, you're not even listening," Jake says after a while.

"Sorry. Just distracted."

"By what? Or should I say who?" He grins. "Come on, man. There's a girl. I know that look. You're in love with someone."

If only he knew.

"It's complicated."

"It always is." He refills our glasses. "So who is it? That Vanessa chick? She's been hanging around you a lot lately."

"It's not Vanessa."

"Then who?"

I can't answer that. Can never answer that.

"Just someone I can't have."

"Why not?"

"Because it's impossible. Because it would ruin everything. Because—" I stop myself, taking another drink. "Just because."

"That's the alcohol talking. Nothing's impossible if you really want it."

He has no idea how wrong he is.

We keep drinking. The room starts to blur around the edges. Jake tells a story about his dad that makes me laugh despite everything.

My phone buzzes. A text from Derek.

Derek: Bro, tonight's the night. Wish me luck 😏

The glass in my hand nearly shatters.

Tonight's the night. He's planning to sleep with her.

"You good?" Jake asks, noticing my expression.

"Yeah. Fine." I down my drink and pour another. "Just... nothing."

But it's not nothing. It's everything.

I throw back the whiskey, letting it burn.

Jake keeps talking, but I'm not listening anymore. I'm drowning in alcohol and jealousy and the image of Derek's hands on my sister.

An hour passes. Maybe two. Time feels meaningless.

Jake is drunk now. Really drunk. Slurring his words and laughing too loud.

"I should probably head out," he says, standing up and immediately swaying. "Oh man. I'm wasted."

"You can crash here if you want. Guest room's free."

"Nah, I'll call my brother. He can come get me." Jake pulls out his phone, squinting at the screen. "Thanks for the drinks, man. Hope whatever's got you down gets better."

"Yeah. Thanks."

I watch him stumble out to wait for his ride, then I'm alone again in the empty house.

I should eat something. Drink water. Go to bed.

Instead, I pour another glass and stare at my phone.

At Stella's contact.

Wondering if I should call her. Check on her. Make sure she's okay.

Wondering if Derek is kissing her right now. Touching her. Taking what I can never have.

The thought makes me want to destroy something.

That's when my phone rings.

Stella's name on the screen.

I answer immediately, my heart in my throat. "Hello?"

"Luca." Her voice is wrecked. Crying. Scared. "Can you... can you come get me?"

Every trace of alcohol clears from my system instantly.

"What happened? Where are you?"

"Derek's house. I need... I need to leave. Please."

"I'm coming. Stay there. Don't move."

I try to stand and the room spins. I'm too drunk to drive.

Cab. I need a cab.

I fumble with my phone, pulling up the app with shaking hands. "I'm coming, Stella. Ten minutes. Just stay on the phone with me."

"Okay." She's sobbing now. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize. Just tell me you're safe. Are you safe?"

"I'm outside. I ran outside."

"Good. Stay outside. Stay on the phone. I'm coming right now."

The cab takes forever. Every second is agony. Stella stays on the line, crying, breathing, and I talk to her the whole way.

"I'm almost there. Just hold on."

When we pull up, she's exactly where she said—sitting on the curb, arms wrapped around her knees, mascara running down her face.

I throw money at the driver and run to her.

"Stella." I pull her into my arms. "God, Stella, what happened?"

"Can we just go home? Please?"

"Yeah. Come on."

I help her into the cab, giving the driver our address. She leans against me, still crying, and I hold her like I'm afraid she'll disappear.

The house is dark when we get home except for the living room light I left on.

"What happened?" I ask once we're inside. My voice comes out rougher than I intend, anger and fear mixing together. "Why were you drinking? Why were you crying?"

"Derek..." She can barely speak through the tears. "He gave me wine. Kept pouring more. I didn't realize how much I was drinking and then he... he tried to..."

My blood runs cold. "Tried to what?"

"Kiss me. Touch me. He said we were alone and we could finally... but I didn't want to." Her voice breaks. "I pushed him away but he wouldn't stop. His hands—"

She can't finish. Doesn't need to.

"Did he hurt you?" My hands are on her shoulders, barely controlling the rage building inside me. "Stella, did he touch you? Did he—"

"No. I got out before—" She's sobbing now. "But I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. I just ran and called you."

I pull her against my chest, holding her tight.

"I'm going to kill him," I mutter into her hair. "I'm actually going to kill him."

"Please don't leave me." Her hands fist in my shirt. "Don't go anywhere. Don't leave me alone."

"I'm not going anywhere." I pick her up, cradling her against my chest. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs."

I carry her to her room and set her gently on the bed.

"Let me get you water. And aspirin. You're going to feel terrible tomorrow."

"Don't leave—"

"I'm just going to the bathroom. Two seconds. I promise."

I come back with water and pills. She takes them with shaking hands.

"You should change," I say, looking away. "Get into something comfortable. I'll be right outside if you need anything."

"Luca." Her hand catches mine before I can leave. "Are you really leaving? Just like that?"

I stop. Turn back. And everything I've been holding back for months threatens to break free.

"Stella, I can't—"

"Stay. Please. I don't want to be alone tonight."

"You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying." She stands up, still holding my hand, looking at me with those eyes that have always been able to see right through me. "I know that Derek tried to touch me and all I could think was that it should be you. I know that I'm tired of pretending. I know that I love you and I don't care anymore if it's wrong."

"Stella—"

"Don't tell me this isn't real. Don't tell me we can't—"

I kiss her.

I can't help it anymore. Can't hold back. Can't pretend.

I kiss her like I've been dying to for months. Like she's oxygen and I've been suffocating. My hands cup her face and she grabs my shirt, pulling me closer.

"We can't do this," I whisper against her lips, even as my hands slide into her hair. "If we do this, everything changes. We can't take it back."

"I don't want to take it back."

"Stella—"

"I love you. I'm in love with you. And I know it's wrong but I don't care anymore."

Something breaks inside me. The last of my resistance crumbles.

I kiss her again, deeper this time, and she wraps her arms around my neck.

We stumble backward toward her bed. My hands are everywhere—her face, her hair, her waist. Hers are pulling at my shirt, needing me closer.

"Are you sure?" I pull back to look at her, giving her one last chance to stop this. "Stella, are you absolutely sure? Because if we do this—"

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"We're going to hell for this."

"Then we'll go together."

I kiss her again, and this time, neither of us stops.

Clothes disappear. Hands explore. Every boundary we've tried to maintain dissolves.

We make love slowly, carefully, desperately. Like it's the first time and the last time all at once. Every touch is worship. Every kiss is a confession. Every moment is both perfect and impossible.

And when it's over, when we're lying tangled together in her bed, both of us breathing hard, both knowing we just crossed a line we can never uncross—

We don't regret it.

"I love you," she whispers into the darkness.

"I love you too," I say, holding her tighter. "God help me, I love you too."

We fall asleep in each other's arms.

In her childhood bedroom.

Two people who were never supposed to love each other like this.

But we do.

And nothing will ever be the same again.