Three Years Ago

Three years ago, the only thing I was "pure" at was loving Roman Reed.

The Northcrest Academy bells were ringing for AP Calculus, but I wasn't in my seat. I was crouched behind the gym bleachers, my heart thumping a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I watched a black hoodie weave through the parking lot.

"Hey, Red," a voice whispered.

I spun around. Roman was there, his messy dark hair catching the California sun, a lopsided, boyish grin on his face that made me forget how to breathe. He wasn't the "Blacklisted King" then. He was just Roman—the boy who stole my lunch and my heart in the same afternoon.

"We’re going to get caught, Roman. My mom will kill me if I miss another exam."

"Your mom isn't here," he said, reaching out to snag my hand. His fingers were warm, interlacing with mine perfectly. "And Calculus is for people who don't have a vintage Chevy and a secret spot on the coast. Come on. Live a little, Scarlett."

I let him pull me. We sprinted to his beat-up 1969 Camaro, ducking low as we sped past the security gate. The wind whipped my hair into a frenzy as we hit the Pacific Coast Highway, the salt air filling my lungs.

"Where are we going?" I laughed, leaning my head back against the sun-warmed leather.

"To the edge of the world," he promised.

We ended up at the Point Dume cliffs. It was our spot. No paparazzi, no Marcus Reed, no "Hollywood" expectations. Just the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks a hundred feet below.

Roman sat on the hood of the car and pulled me between his knees. He looked at me then—really looked at me—with an intensity that felt like a physical touch.

"I got the lead, Roman," I whispered, resting my hands on his shoulders. "The studio called. They want me to move to LA full-time. They’re talking about a three-picture deal."

I expected him to cheer. Instead, his jaw tightened. He looked out at the horizon, his eyes darkening.

"That’s big, Scar. That’s everything you wanted."

"It’s what we wanted," I corrected, tilted his chin back toward me. "We’ll find a place. You can start that tech internship. We’ll be unstoppable."

"My father wants me in London," he said, his voice suddenly hollow. "He says if I stay here, if I keep 'distracting' myself with you, he’ll cut me off. He’ll make sure your little studio deal disappears before you even sign the contract."

"He can't do that! He doesn't own us!"

Roman let out a dry, jagged laugh. "He owns the air we breathe, Scarlett. You don't know him like I do." He pulled me into a kiss—one that tasted like salt and desperation. It was the kind of kiss that felt like a goodbye, even though I didn't know it yet.

_____________________

The drive back was a nightmare of silence. By the time we pulled into my driveway, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a bruised, angry purple.

A black SUV was parked at the curb. Marcus Reed was leaning against it, looking like a vulture in a bespoke suit. My mother stood beside him, her face ashen, her eyes red-rimmed.

"Get out of the car, Roman," Marcus commanded, his voice a low power-play.

Roman didn't look at me. He didn't even say my name. He walked over to his father, and I watched as Marcus handed him a thick, manila envelope. They whispered for a moment, and then Roman turned back to me.

The boy I loved was gone. In his place was a stranger with ice in his veins.

"Go inside, Scarlett," Roman said. His voice was flat, dead.

"Roman? What’s happening? What’s in the envelope?"

"The price of my freedom," he spat. "Turns out, you’re not worth as much as I thought."

I felt like he’d slapped me. "What are you talking about?"

"This? Us? It was a high school hobby. I’m going to London. My father is setting me up with a real future, not some pipe dream with a girl who wants to play dress-up for a living."

"You’re lying," I choked out, stepping toward him. "You’re just saying this because he’s standing there!"

Roman looked me dead in the eye, his lip curling in a sneer that made my skin crawl. "Believe what you want. But don't call me. Don't look for me. We’re done, Scarlett. Go be a star. I hope the lights are bright enough to hide how pathetic you look right now."

He got back into the SUV with his father. They drove away, leaving me standing in the dirt, clutching the promise of a New York apartment that would never exist.

My mother walked over and put a hand on my shoulder, but I pushed her off.

"He’s gone, baby," she whispered. "It’s better this way. For your career. For everyone."

I didn't cry then. I couldn't. I just watched the taillights disappear, realizing that the boy who had taken me to the edge of the world had finally pushed me off.