chapter 9

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Théo tapped his fingers on his steel desk as he fixed a weary gaze on his laptop. He slid his back down in his seat and blinked at the blurry video. Displayed on the screen was a red sofa chair, and it remained empty for the next few minutes.

A pack of cigarettes and a cold beer bottle were the only things he preferred to keep him company. Just like the previous nights. He'd been waiting for about five minutes now, very much looking forward to having a long talk with his forever busy ex.

A while ago after they'd exchanged terse and smile-less greetings, Veronica's phone went off, so she excused herself to go take the call. She left the room after she informed him that it was the band's tour manager. Which merely reminded him that she and Kyle were planning on doing international tours for the new album.

Meaning: she'd be spending time with her bandmates all year-round...something he guessed he'd just have to get used to if he wanted to stay in a relationship with her. Mainly since he knew well he'd always be second to her job. Just like how it had been over the three (well, almost three) years they'd been together.

Yep. He still wanted her.

Even after everything, his obstinate brain and wayward ticker still pined for her. He'd had enough experience with bad and messy breakups, and he had not once thought this last one would top them all. All the same, he was never one to burn his bridges. Hence him having been trying his best to still have her talk to him as often as possible.

He'd never bent over backwards for any other woman. He'd sacrificed a few things when he and Alejandra were struggling to keep their relationship going. But he'd never been this sick as a pig, and day by day just wanting to drench his insides in booze just to help his raddled head forget about what happened.

Sure, every fiber of his being flipped out when Veronica first told him she almost slept with Kyle. But  Théo  just didn't want to acknowledge that her actions were spurred by nothing more than self-centeredness, and a fatuous desire to test their relationship.

He still cared for Via. And having been in constant communication with her since the split, he knew the feeling was still mutual.

Despite what had happened, and to his liking, Veronica wasn't keeping him at arm's length. However, he felt like they hadn't really been in good terms, either. And so he rushed out of bed and left behind his lovely company under the crumpled covers — the blonde model he met last week. He'd been busy entertaining the younger woman along the course of the evening.   Fancy dinner date, romantic talks and all. They had gone clubbing with Tomek afterwards, along with their model friends.

As expected, he had taken the girl back to the apartment, and what went down next should be carving a wide, that-was-a-heck-of-a-good-time grin onto his face now.

Instead, it only pummeled his mood down to a prolonged state of agitation; and such only left him frustrated because the person he'd rather be with was 4,000 miles away, spending her days and nights with the guy he'd been envious of since day one.

Here he was: having just been in bed with a hot, drop-dead gorgeous woman who seemed quite smitten with him, but, instead of basking in the moment, he was whiling the night away fantasizing about his ex.

Great. Just great. Cracking job, Théo. This'll surely end well.

A fairly raspy voice soon drew him out of his thoughts, making him lift his head and meet a bleary pair of hazel eyes. "I think I'm about to have a psychotic break," Veronica mumbled. Her forearms rested on the edge of the desk where she'd placed her laptop.

To get a better look at her, Théo tilted back his laptop's screen to get rid of the glare. An oversized denim jacket, which she'd left unbuttoned, covered her tank top.  Subtle curls thickened her hair that framed her high cheekbones and jawline.

Maybe it was just the room's lighting, but her skin glowed with a tinge of pink that matched her  manicured fingernails. For someone who felt like she was going batshit insane, she looked pretty great. "You lost weight,"  Via remarked shortly.

A quick, impassive shrug was his reply. He bore her stare with his in brooding silence.

"Saw your new ad," she said when he continued to say nothing. Her voice sounded weird and gravelly over his laptop's speaker. The video feed lagged a little, too.

"Which one?" Théo asked. Maybe she'd seen one of the ads, of the three big-name clothing brands he'd modeled for just recently.

"Gucci." Via smiled now. She bent closer to her computer. Her face now appeared as pale as her hotel room's walls. "Nice, T. Really comin' along," she then praised.

He reclined, the compliment making his lips curve a fraction. The comment sounded genuine, but her tone told him another matter was on her mind.

Staring in silence became their mode of communication for the next couple of seconds. Veronica only broke their eye contact when her phone went off again, its whirring noise audible.

Théo leaned closer to the screen. Hoping small talk would somehow buoy up their uptight moods, he muttered, "How you been?"

"Oh, y'know...livin' the high life, as per usual," was her retort. She put her phone away. Then she sneezed twice, covering half of her face with a bunch of crumpled tissues.

Watching her features on the screen, he tried not to grimace. He knew she had been unwell lately and that she was having trouble getting back in the swing of things. Which he knew must be frustrating her more. "Angel, you okay?"

"Fine."

He slouched in his chair. Her curt reply just made him suspect she was bothered by something.

"I'm fine. Just tired," she insisted. Veronica loudened her scratchy voice as she explained, "Just that we've been stuck in the studio for weeks now...and the deadline's in a couple days."

"How many songs left?" Théo asked, attentive to her worn out tone. How could they expect her to record songs in her condition?

Instead of answering, she only tsk-ed and gave a noisy sigh.

He itched his forehead. Fine. No more shop talk.

"Just need to rest up for a bit," she assured in a murmur, her eyes no longer focusing on his.

"You sure?"

Her brows creased at his doubt. "You're the one who looks like you need to blow off a lotta steam."

"What's wrong?" He put up with more awkward glances from her, inferring something else was keeping her up this late apart from the work-related stuff. Her tone and fine acting skills were convincing enough. But he just didn't buy it.

"Nothing." Veronica frowned again. When he remained mum and kept up a suspicious stare, she sighed tetchily. "It's just work. I'm just not feeling well," she muttered. She stretched out in her seat.

"Don't bullshit me."

She shook her head weakly and mumbled something in French.

"What?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," she replied in an indifferent tone. Her eyes then idly studied her hotel room's bare ceiling.

Oh. Of course... Kyle . What else. "Lovers' quarrel, still?"

At his prying, Veronica kept close-lipped and pretended to not have heard him. Her blank expression only bothered him more.

What felt like a whole minute of soundless tension blew over before he spoke again. "Don't make me call him up at this hour," he said. His stern tone made her drop the cool-and-calm facade in a blink. "What's he done now?"

"Nothing." She grunted and plopped her elbows onto the desk, with her hands now splayed on her forehead.

"Lie again, don't be surprised if he doesn't show up tomorrow."

Tongue-tied, Veronica just sighed in resignation. The dim lighting in her room now cast a slanting shadow on her face.

Théo reached for his beer bottle and took a sip. The cold drink was somehow managing to hold up his mounting temper. She watched him while her chin rested on her fist. He plunked the bottle closer to his laptop and stared into her eyes, then at her dainty hands, her pinkish lips...

Dammit. He couldn't stop staring. Which was aggravating him more because he was certain the booze wasn't to blame. Not yet, anyway. His quiet sigh of dismay was followed by a problematic thought: if ever he still mattered to her as much as she did to him, would she actually try to work it out with him again?

He turned away from her gaze, choosing to keep the pathetic sentiment to himself. If he posed the question, she'd most definitely think he was now losing it.

A few of his buddies had raised their brows before and commented that Veronica didn't rival his past girlfriends' looks and oozing sex appeal. But there was just something about her he couldn't shake. And it still stumped him how he had only felt like a real man whenever he was with her. They'd always had a great time in bed, too. But that last time... Damn. It surpassed previously established records. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why it had been keeping him up all night since she called it quits.

It was weeks ago when she first told him about what happened. Veronica had sent him a text that afternoon, asking if he was busy at work. After a tiring photo shoot, he gave her a call. She blubbered out everything and apologized to him over and over. Days later, he had flown to New York. They'd checked into a hotel afterward.

They'd argued for hours — a foregone conclusion. But what occurred that night could've been worse. His lethargic mind was now having trouble shutting out details of what happened that night, but he went on recounting the scene. It was before Via was about to leave him alone at the hotel to go back to the studio — with him all wasted and throwing a fit.

"Does it feel good? Seeing me like this? Losing it?" They were both slumped on the bed that time, with her barely able to breathe in between sobs. "You're choosing him? So your career-first rule was all bullshit then? 'Cause far as I know, it didn't entail you and him actually changing statuses," he'd said in spite.

After his outbursts she'd tried hard to ignore, he had kept coaxing her to think her decision over, reluctant to leave her be.

Via had wanted him to stay away because their judgments and reasoning on what she'd done weren't on the same page. Not in the slightest. The whole thing dragged on for hours until she just broke down in frustration. He was able to calm her down by lying to her that he understood and would let it go, and they ended up in bed. She only agreed when he promised it'd be the last time.

"How's that for breakup sex?" he remembered saying to her, before she ended up crying herself to sleep. Veronica had left the next morning, still preoccupied with work. He flew back to Paris then. He had been down in the dumps since. And it was killing him that he wouldn't be able to spend his birthday with her. Or see her anytime soon.

After what she had done, he shouldn't even be bothering to keep in touch with her, and should be belching smoke from the seven orifices of the head. But, dammit, he just couldn't shut her out of his life.

"We talking or not?" he sighed when she remained as taciturn as he was.

From what he could see on the live video feed, Veronica pulled another face at his grumbling. She covered her eyes with a frizzy tuft, and then heaved another drawn out sigh. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"No shit, you don't."

"Can we not do this right now?" She looked like she wanted to swear, her voice becoming frail.

"Stop keeping things from me."

"I'm not." Via looked away from the screen, then kneaded the stretch of skin between her eyebrows. "Stop being so argumentative."

"What d'you want me to say? That I think it's entirely your fault?" he snapped.

"It is."

"It's not; but I do think you wanted it to happen." Momentarily, he pressed his lips together to restrain himself from yelling at his laptop screen like a drunken lunatic. "I also know he never liked me 'cause he just doesn't think I'm good enough for you. And I'm pretty sure he wasn't gonna keep his hands off you," he blurted in annoyance.

She shut up, wide-eyed after his accusations.  Veronica  kept still and couldn't seem to apprehend his outburst.

"Now tell me that wasn't a fair assumption," he dared before hastily crossing his arms.

"What would you have me do?" Her forehead rumpled. "Pretend like nothing happened?" she spat. The acrimony in her tone told him the thought of reconciliation hadn't been tarrying in her mind at all, unlike in his.

"I hope for your sake he's worth it, 'cause, trust me, no one else would put up with your crap." He scoffed to stop himself from hurling more insults. Her shoulders stiffened. He later saw her right hand fumbling with her touchpad. "Don't hang up; we're not done," he threatened through clenched teeth.

"It's late; get some sleep—"

"Do you love him?"

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