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Jasmine raises her eyebrows, a flicker of judgment crossing her face. “Well…you would.”

The words land like a slap. Even she thinks I’m unhinged now.

“It was a figure of speech,” I mutter.

Jasmine shifts in her seat, then glances nervously toward the doorway behind me.

I turn. Wren is standing there, arms folded, watching us.

I force a tight, polite smile, then look back at Jasmine one last time. “Right. I’ll go.”

The walk back to the gate feels endless. Five minutes inside Jasmine’s house, and it feels like I just watched my entire life get quietly erased.

I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be anymore.

That conversation felt final. Like the last fragile thread of hope I’d been clinging to had been snipped clean. I’ll never be the It Girl again. I’ll never be the girl with nine million followers, brand deals and adoring comments.

I’ve been cancelled.

Permanently.

Uninvited from my best friend’s wedding.

I’d love to blame the show. Or Max. Or especially Heidi. God, I want to blame Heidi so badly.

But the ugly truth is, I’m the one who cracked on camera. If I’d just cried pretty and kept my mouth shut, I might have survived the embarrassment. Instead, I nuked my entire existence.

I slip through the gate and slide into the passenger seat without a word.

“That was quick,” Drew says, glancing over. “Miss me that much?”

I stare down at the footwell, unable to answer.

Hope is a dangerous thing. I’d been carrying this tiny, flickering spark that somehow everything could still go back to normal. That hope was the only thing keeping my head up. Now it’s gone. And without it, the future looks terrifyingly empty.

“You okay?” Drew asks.

I just shake my head.

He starts the car and starts driving. I don’t ask where we’re going.

After a long, quiet drive, Drew pulls off the main road and takes us to a tiny, tucked-away beach near the cliffs. A weathered, slightly dilapidated cafe sits right on the sand, the kind of place that probably hasn’t changed its menu since the nineties.

I’m not in my new casual clothes today, since I went to see Jasmine. I look like myself. So he goes in for food and I stay in the car, watching the waves. He returns a few minutes later with a paper basket of chili cheese fries and two massive, ridiculous chili dogs.

“What is this?” I ask, staring at the dripping, greasy monstrosity.

“Beach food. Try it.”

I wrinkle my nose. “This is disgusting.”

But I eat it anyway. And it’s weirdly good. Salty, cheesy, completely over-the-top. I finish half the basket before I even realize what I’m doing.

“Would you ever tell me who I’m allowed to be friends with?” I ask. “Not some guy with ulterior motives. A girl. Even if she made a very public mistake…would you tell me I couldn’t be seen with her?”

Drew studies me for a beat.

“Not a chance,” he says. “I like my balls right where they are.”