L.A SPRING 2015 – APARTMENT

I didn't speak to Bo again. I watched him leave for the airport the next day, from my bedroom window. New Year's Eve, came and went, and I headed back to Stanford. I only spoke, once more with Ian, when he showed up with a box full of random stuff I left at his place, and he collected his things and left. I graduated the following year in 2014. I packed up my things, and watched the Stanford House, shrink away in my rearview mirror. But, I got to keep my favorite thing from the house. Teagan. Who moved with me to L.A, after landing a job, at a law firm, right after graduation. Her and Michael ended things, not too long after that Christmas in Danvers. It wasn't some, big explosion. They just sort of quietly drifted apart.

She learned quickly, not to mention Bo. I chose not to speak about him. I just wanted to move on with my life, full speed ahead. Towards the end of 2013, the ice began to thaw around my heart and I began to think of him more often. But then, the infamous, Slut poem in his 'What.' tour, happened, and I experienced another, hard freeze.

It'd been almost two years, when I heard from Bo again. Although, it wasn't in the most traditional sense. A few days after Teagan and I moved, into our L.A apartment, we busied ourselves, trying to get everything unpacked. I stood in the living room, over an open box of books, stacking them on the bookcase, when I came across the copy of Great Gatsby, Bo got me for Christmas. I picked it up, running my fingers down the spine. I hadn't cracked it open once, since that night. It was almost, as if, it was a symbol of that nightmare. But, on that day, in front of the bookcase, I was in a good headspace, so I opened it, expecting to see the same, tea stained paper, with Bo's handwriting, right on the inside. But that's not what I found.

Instead, I found a handwritten letter, from Bo. I later found out, he asked my mom to give it to me, the morning after Christmas, right before he left, for the airport. But, because she knew I was so upset, she simply placed in the book, thinking I would see it, in no time. So there I stood, 2 years later, unfolding the paper and reading:

Sidney,

I'm trying anything I can right now, not to come over there and beg you for forgiveness. I know you want to be left alone, I get it. So, here it is. Ink & paper.

I suppose the best thing, would be to start with this:

I am so, very sorry, Sid. You we're right. It was your decision to make, and I should've never intervened. I'd like to highlight the fact that I'm especially sorry for embarrassing you, and traumatizing both of our families. Maybe not my best move. But, if it's any consolation, my Nana knows I'm not a virgin now. You know, since being aggressively informed. But, losing my rank as her favorite, will never be as painful as losing you. For good. I think I've made it through the last few years, based on telling myself, it isn't over. That everything we had, was just our beginning. Maybe I was overthinking it. I don't know.

But if I'm being honest. I have to admit that I didn't come home for Christmas this year because I needed a break. And my mom, she'd already assumed I'd be too busy. I came home with the purpose to see you. There's things I wanted to tell you. But, instead, I've only hurt you. I've begun to painfully realize, that maybe all I can do now, is step back, and preserve whatever we have left.

I don't have that, intrinsically beautiful insight, that you do, Sid. I got you the book because, I know you love the story. But I want to be close to you. In every way. So I read it, the day I got it. And then I read it again.

Seeing every bit of myself in Jay Gatsby, was once, comical irony. But after tonight, I now see it, as a tragic realization. Before, I was inspired by his relentless hope, that recapturing the days with Daisy, was entirely possible. Regardless of wealth and success, he only wanted, her. The only antagonist was just a prick named, Tom. And all of his dreams, were set to a plan.

But now I understand…

Recapturing the past with you, won't happen.

I can't force, a future with you.

My antagonist, is time.

And dreams. Well, they're only a temporary escape from reality.

Also, I know he dies at the end, but let's face it. Daisy is a dick. But you're not a dick. So, I kind of feel like, my shit's sadder.

Despite all this, my main takeaway, is that, like the foolish and tragic, Gatsby. I'll be reaching towards the light, in your emerald green eyes, until the light is out, in my own.

Thank you for every moment, you enabled me to fly.

I love you, Sidney.

I love you, like I always have.

And I'll love you, every day, until my last.

Sincerely,

Your wasted, maniac, cynical, asshole, of an ex-boyfriend

-Bo

It's hard to explain how I felt, when I reached the end of the letter. I didn't cry. Instead, I laid down on the floor, right where I'd been standing. The letter gripped tightly in my fist. Teagan found me a few minutes later.

"Oh shit, who died?" Teagan asked, eyes round with horror.

From the ball, I'd shaped myself into, I simply answered, "Me."

My heart was no longer protected by a thick layer of ice. And there was no way of convincing myself, otherwise, that if I'd seen the letter that morning, after Christmas, I would have chased him down, arms waving, screaming to the top of my lungs, I'm yours! Forever! I'm yours!

But I didn't see it. Until two years later…

L.A – SUMMER 2015

It'd been seven months since my move to LA, and six months, into the contract I landed with a television network, joining the writers table for several shows. It was the only thing that helped calm the vicious mental torture that had returned, revolving around Bo. I filtered through all the memories, all the words, all the feelings, that somehow felt painfully fresh. And, because so much time had passed, the idea of reaching out to him was out of the question. Life had moved on. We hadn't spoken a single word to each other. For the first time, Bo and I, were simply distant memories, laced with sadness.

So, on that particular day at work, I felt a rise of nerves when I got called to the office, to speak to Garrett, our director. My six month contract, had run its course, and I would either be renewed or released. And I felt certain, I couldn't survive being released. From my distraction.

But I had a veil of confidence, as I walked into Garrett's sunny office. My feedback had been nothing but superior, and I couldn't imagine why I'd be cut.

"Hey there, Paxton!" Garrett said, sounding chipper. I took that as a good sign. "Sit down for a second with me," he said. I took a seat, smiling nervously as I watched him shuffle through some paperwork. Then he slid a few sheets across the desk. I looked down, and to my horror, the headline for the document read: Release Form.

"Really?" I asked, looking up at him, begging the tears to stay away, until I got home.

He smiled, "You have done some of the best writing, our shows have ever had."

"Awesome, where do I sign my pink slip?" I said sarcastically. He chuckled.

"Before you sign it. I want you to know, you do have a choice." He sat back in his chair, tapping his mouth with his pen. "I got a call, about a week ago. The Pratt Studios, director, is interested in you. If you want it, they'd like you to start immediately, as the Writing Supervisor."

My jaw dropped. "Are you serious?" He chuckled again.

"This is a big deal, Sidney. Pratt Studios is tied to some heavy hitters. Television and Film. A Writing Sup position, six months into your career, that's already breaking some barriers. But working with Pratt?"

I shook my head, looking off into space. I couldn't believe this was happening. I tuned back in. "Where do I sign my pink slip, again?"

I was there for a bit longer, as Garrett called over to Pratt Studios, letting them know that, pending contract and salary, I would love to take the position. By the time I made it to the apartment, my excitement had tripled after having time to process the information.

"Teagan!" I yelled., as I headed in. I dropped my purse by the door, and kicked off my shoes.

"In here!" She called, from the kitchen. I walked in, finding her, hovered over the counter, eating a container of vanilla frosting with a spoon. Her wild, blond curly hair, piled high on her head.

"Oh, no," I sighed. "Teeg. -Again with the frosting?" She nodded, shoving another heaping into her mouth. Teagan's boss was currently going through a divorce, and apparently, taking every bit of his fury out on her.

She scooped more frosting, onto her spoon. "Today, he double books me, for TWO different, REMOTE, location meetings at 1pm, Okay?"

I nodded.

"Okay. Then he says that it's crucial that I make BOTH of them on time." She shoves another spoonful into her mouth. "So –I suggest moving one of them to 2pm. So I'd have time to get to North Hollywood."

"Okay, yeah. That sounds reasonable," I nodded.

"It does seem that way, right? But –then, he informs me that although my idea of professionalism is apparently lacking, that it's HIS firm, and changing meeting times is just failure to commit."

"Damn, Teagan. So what did you do?"

She stabbed the spoon into the container, and threw her hands into the air. "I fucking lost a client! Because I somehow, couldn't get my shit together enough to manipulate space and time and be in two different locations at one time!"

I shook my head. "You have to get out of there. There's plenty of law firms in this city."

She returns to her stooped, frosting consumption. "Yeah, I know." Her head pops up. "Wait, how did it go today? You got renewed, obviously."

I shook my head, "Nope."

"Get the fuck out," She says, her eyes wide.

I told her all about the meeting with Garrett, and the position at Pratt Studios. Together, we jumped around the kitchen, squealing with excitement.

"Sidney – muthafuckin – Paxton!" Teagan, shouted to the ceiling. "So when is the meeting, to go over the contract and stuff?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, pulling my phone, from my pocket. "They said they would email the info." I looked through my emails and sure enough, right towards the top, was the email from the studio. I opened it up. "Oh, the director wants to have a private meet and greet," I said looking up at Teagan.

"Where?"

"His house?"

"Oh, god," she groaned. "He's going to make you work for it. Not good."

I looked further down the email. "Oh, wait. The director, is a she."

"Slightly less rape-y. That's good."

"Yeah, right here," I pointed at my phone. "Ellenor Pratt."

Teagan seemed to go slightly wall eyed. "Wait. Elleanor, Why does that sound familiar?" She said, looking off in thought. "Elleanor Pratt," she repeated, to herself. Suddenly, she gasped, dropping her frosting spoon to the counter, slapping her hand over her mouth, staring at me, wide eyed.

"What the fuck, Teagan? What!" I yelled.

"Elleanor Pratt. Like, -Elle Pratt." She said, eyeing me like I should know something.

I stare at her, in question. "I have no idea what you're saying. Do I know her, or something?"

"Don't you remember? Christmas Eve! Bo! He mentioned his girlfriend. Elle! Elle Fucking Pratt!"

"No," I grabbed the counter - the floor swayed, I stare at Teagan in horror. "This, cannot be a thing."

Teagan pressed her palm to her forehead, "Sidney -Your new boss, is Bo's, fucking girlfriend."

I felt like I was having an out of body experience.

Teagan, rushed around the counter. "Sidney? Do you wanna lay on the floor?"

"Yep," I nodded, sinking slowly. Teagan watched me, with full range pity, as I laid down, flat on my back. Staring at the ceiling in shock.

"You want me to lay with you?"

"Yep."

She walked over to the counter, grabbing her container of frosting and laid down next to me. After taking another spoonful, she silently passed the container to me.

"Do you think she knows?" Teagan asked, after a while.

I stared at the bar lights, that hang over our kitchen island. Trying to imagine for a moment. Just ONE moment, in my head, what it would be like, walking into their love nest, to casually discuss my pay and benefits.

"I don't think so," I answered. "Garrett, mentioned that they have an in house talent scout."

"Do you think, Bo, could have a hand in this?"

I sighed. "I doubt it. But If he did, I'll hate him forever. I'm firmly against the, name drop, way to success."

"You won't," she said.

"Won't what?"

"Hate him."

"I know."

L.A 2015 -MAIN HOUSE

As if I wasn't already nervous enough, the steep incline as I made my way into the hills, towards Elle's house the next evening, was terrifying. The twist and turns of the narrow path, matched the twist and turn in my stomach. I had no idea what to expect once I got there. I considered, very seriously, declining the offer all together, but Teagan talked me out of it.

I finally arrived at the address, pulling into narrow driveway tucked between a towering privacy fence overgrown with vines and the two car garage. The house was gorgeous. A massive, contemporary, A -frame house, with a steep pitch. As I made my way to the door, I noticed another smaller, white building, tucked behind it, with the same pitch to the roof. I suddenly felt even more nervous, thinking, you have to have, serious money, to live in a place like this.

Only seconds after I knocked on the door, it swung open, revealing a beautiful woman, with ivory skin, big brown eyes and dark tendrils, hanging around her face, from her hair, swept up and elegantly pinned.

"Sidney! Please, come on in." Her sing song voice met me in the air. She smiled, moving to the side, to let me pass. I headed through the door, reminding myself not to stare. It's hard to be around someone who's the current 'other half,' of the one you've loved for twelve years, and not stare.

Although the esthetic was a bit cold and impersonal, the inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside. Through the foyer, I saw large, open, floor to ceiling windows on the frontside of the living room, looking out over the valley, where the sun had just taken it's leave behind the hills.

"You're house is unbelievable," I smiled at Elle, as she took my purse and hung it on a hook next to door. That's when I spotted the first sign of him. His striped hoodie, now hanging next to my purse.

"Thank you, I was so lucky to find it. You know the market around here is insanely competitive," she shook her head.

Yeah, sure. I know all about the market for mansions in Beverly hills, I think to myself.

We headed into the living room. "Have a seat," she said gesturing to the large white sofa. "You know, it's so nice to finally get to meet you face to face, Sidney. Our scout, William, went out of his way to show me your work." I took a seat, watching her, effortlessly glide across the living room in heels, as she took a bottle of wine out of the hutch, gripping two tumblers in her other hand and heading to the couch. "William doesn't bother me with that stuff unless it's top tier," she said, sitting down. She turns, looking straight into my eyes. "And Sidney, your work is perfection." She smiled, and turned, pouring wine into the glasses.

"Wow, thank you," I said, suddenly hating her because she's so damn nice.

"Trust me, I don't just throw complements around," she said, handing me one of the glasses. We both took a sip. "Now, as for the salary and all the fine print, I'll have that sent to your email so you can go over that in your own time. I don't want you feel pressured."

"That's sounds great. I appreciate that," I smiled, taking another sip of wine.

Elle's cell phone buzzed on the surface of the coffee table. She picked it up, looking at the screen. "Ugh, let me take this real quick, I apologize."

"Oh, no problem, of course," I said.

And then, the sweet, eloquently spoken, Elle, disappeared before my eyes as she stood and answered the phone.

"What!" She, barked, standing from the couch. She listened for a moment. "For fucks sake. You're just a little shit, intern! Can you not handle the most basic tasks?" She stormed off, heading into the kitchen, off to the side of what appeared to be a back door. I sat, stunned. Listening to her shout demands, followed by insults to the unfortunate soul on the other end of the line.

It went on for several minutes, before she quieted and reappeared from the kitchen. "I am so sorry," she said, flatly. "I have to deal with nothing but useless idiots at the studio."

I laughed, "Sounds stressful."

"You have no idea," she said, shaking her head and picking up her wine glass, taking a long sip. "So, Sidney. Let's get to know each other," her bright red lips, curl into a grin. "It's not that often we get to work with other women in this industry."

I suddenly felt panic setting in. At that point I was pretty certain she had no clue who I was, and it was the only reason I was able to remain somewhat relaxed. So I sat there nodding at her, wondering how much she would want to know.

"I'll go first," she smiled. "I'm Elleanor Pratt. You can call me 'Elle' for short. I grew up in New York and after I graduated from Columbia I began writing for a magazine, if you can believe it. Then I decided I wanted to work in entertainment. I opened Pratt Studios a few years ago and here I am. Oh, and we bought this house in 2013? I think? Me and my boyfriend, Robert. You probably know him," she said. "Bo Burnham, the comedian, I'm sure you've seen him."

I concentrated on not cracking the wine glass in my hand. "Uh, yeah I think so," I nodded.

She poured another glass of wine. "Yeah, we started dating in 2012, towards the beginning. Bless his heart, he was such a mess."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She sipped more wine, and shook her head. "When I met him, he was just a miserable thing. He was hung up on some girl from his hometown in Massachusetts. I don't understand the hold that girl had on him, but it was bad."

"Sounds awful," I said, downing the rest of my wine. She immediately took the glass and poured a new one, handing it back to me.

"Yeah, I've practically refused to let him go back home at this point, after the last time, for Christmas a few years ago. I mean, seriously, he's damaged beyond repair, but, you know- I do LOVE a broken man," she laughed, shaking her head. "They're so weak, easy to control."

I felt my veins turn to ice as I forced a hollow laugh.

She chuckled and took another sip. "But, I took the poor thing in. Attempted to fuck the sadness out of him," she shrugged with a grin. "Didn't really work, but let me tell you Sidney. I don't know if you have a boyfriend or whatever, but here's something I learned." She leaned in a little closer. "Always, -ALWAYS let the sad ones fuck you. It's the best shit you'll ever experience. That heartbroken sex, that's the stuff that'll make you scream."

"I'll keep that in mind," I smile, but in my head I was trying to think of the highest cliff I could run my car over, on the way home.

She laughed, "Seriously, I wait around for the days Robert is looking particularly in his feelings and that's when I pounce."

"Poor guy," I said, swirling the wine. "Do you ever try to like, talk to him about it?" I asked, casually.

"Psh, Please. I don't have time to be his therapist. I just get the good stuff and then get back to work. Plus, the more bitter he is, the better his comedy is," she laughed. "Anyways, that was all probably T.M.I.," she sipped her wine. "Now, tell me about you."

I opened my mouth to speak, not entirely sure, what all I was about to say. But then we heard the front door open in the foyer.

"Hey babe!" Elle called. "I want you to meet that new, brilliant writer, I was telling you about!"

A million thoughts came crashing into my mind, and I could hear my own heart beating in my ears. I wondered what Bo was going to say. How was he going to react? I had already acted like I hardly knew who he was, when Elle mentioned him.

Bo appeared from the foyer. He didn't look much different than the last time I saw him, other than the harder edges of maturity in the angles of his face. His face that is now frozen, deer in headlights, when his eyes landed on me.

"Sidney?"

Elle's brows drew in confusion. "Do you know her?" She asked him, glancing at me and then back to him.

I sat there, my eyes wide, screaming a silent message at him. No, you do NOT know me.

I could see the light pop on in his mind, as his expression changed from pure shock to calm and casual. "Oh, no. You mentioned her name this morning," he said.

"Oh," Elle, nodded.

He crossed over to me, his hand extended. "It's nice to meet you, Sidney."

I reached out, shaking his hand, seeing that familiar flicker of adoration, flash in his eyes for a single moment. "Nice to meet you, too," I replied.

Elle's cell phone starts buzzing again on the coffee table. "Oh, my, mother, fuc—Hello!" She answered, storming to the kitchen once more.

Once she was out of view, Bo's head snaps to me. "What the fuck is happening?"

I stood up, and we moved in closer, to speak quietly. "She's trying to hire me for the writing supervisor position. She has no idea who I am. I didn't even know who she was, until Teagan told me."

He processed my words for a moment and then softly smiled. "Are you living here in, L.A?"

I smiled in return, "Yeah, since January."

"Nice, Sid. And you graduated last year, right?"

I nodded. He flashed a full watt smile.

"That's amazing, Sidney. Congrats."

"Bo, how does she not know who I am? My name seriously never came up during like, three years?"

He shrugged. "She never asked, and I never said it. But, it's a good thing. Because if she knew who you were, there is no way in hell you would be in this house right now. Let alone working for her."

"Yeah, probably not," I agreed.

He smiled, softly. "It's so goddam good to see your face, Sid."

I smiled, feeling the butterflies from way back when.

"By the way, Robert!" Bo and I, stepped away from each other, as Elle suddenly appeared from the kitchen. She walked right up to him, tucking her fists on her hips. "You've been working on all these side projects. Make Happy, starts in two months. TWO months, Robert. I know you're not done with the writing."

Bo, pulled his fingers through his hair, with a sigh. "Elle, I've told you I'm done with the writing. It's just details, Okay? I just have to step back sometimes so I can process it." Elle spun on her heels, grabbing her glass of wine from the table and taking a sip as she glanced Bo up and down, seemingly in thought. Bo stood watching her, his expression somewhat unfamiliar to me. Perhaps, timid?

"The comedy thing is yours, Robert. But it's airing under MY name this time. You will NOT have one of your little melt downs on the stage. Especially because you're not prepared. Get. It. Done," she said, jabbing her fingers into upper chest in almost a small push.

Bo shook his head and began to walk towards the hallway. He glanced up just before disappearing around the corner. "It was really nice meeting you, Sidney."

The rest of the evening, Elle and I talked about the projects coming up. The things I would be working on and other logistics. Luckily, she got loopy on wine and seemed to forget entirely about the 'Get To Know Me' session. I didn't see Bo again that night, and I finally left around 10pm.

One the drive back to the apartment, my head was busy rewinding back through the evening and playing over and over, the interaction I had with Bo. I realized as time went by, I still remembered his eyes, his mouth, his hair, but it's the deeper details that I lost and didn't even know it. The way he holds his mouth, moves his hands. The way he always seems to slowly tilt his head, when I talk to him, his eyes sweeping across my face, like he's so busy taking in the details, he gets lost.

But something bothered me about the way he acted with Elle, earlier in the evening and It finally occurred to me. Her aggressive, bossy approach was one thing, but the little shove she gave him? He just let it happen. Where the fuck was his fury? Bo has always been full watt passion. Shy and reserved yes, but under the veil of that is a complicated whirlwind of easily detonated emotion. He would have twisted me up like a balloon animal. It just didn't sit right.

The next day, although I was tugged in all directions with apprehension, I signed the paperwork and was officially employed under Elle. Over the following week, I spent time at the studio, meeting the staff and other writers. It didn't take me long to realize that Elle's reign of terror, was very real. People scattered when they heard her coming, and you could usually hear her coming. Between her constant rants and high heels clacking on the floor, it wasn't hard to miss her.

One day I was standing in her office, while she rattled off the ratings for each show, pointing out the shows that needed to pick in action or come back down.

"Hey, Sid."

I turned to find Bo, grinning in her office doorway, holding a tray of coffee's.

"Just put them down somewhere," Elle snapped.

Bo's grin, vanished and he rolled his eyes, tossing the coffees off onto a chair against the wall. "Elle, you wanted me to get everything done with the writing. So, why I am doing coffee runs?"

Her head snapped up from the paperwork she was jotting on. "I fired Jessica. She was a piece of shit."

Bo threw his head back, sighing at the ceiling. "Jesus, Elle. That's like the fifth assistant in two months."

"Well, maybe I should fire my HR then. They keep sending me a bunch of fuck ups," She shook her head, looking back down at the paperwork.

Bo threw his arms out in defeat, and without another word, he left.

I was beginning to grow more and more irritated with her behavior. She hadn't snagged me into her pool of victims yet, but I think it was just because I was new and I was valuable. I was really enjoying the work, but it was really hard to lead a team of writers, when most of them were rattled a majority of the time.

But, things moved to a whole new level, one day when Elle, breezed into the writers room, unannounced. Her usual, uptight, polished look was somehow, washed down. She seemed frazzled.

"Sidney, I need you in the stage area. Make Happy is airing Live in a few days. I have Robert doing a run through rehearsal. Can you help me get a pacing time?"

I looked down at the circle of my writers, glancing worriedly up at me, as I was in the middle of going over an episode sequence. "Are you sure? Because we haven't gotten—"

"Just get in there," she snapped.

I made my way into the stage area after grabbing a notebook and stopwatch. Elle was sitting on the first row and she pointed at a chair sitting stage left, indicating that's where she wanted me to sit. Bo was busy, trying to get cables and wires ran, as I settled in the seat.

"Hurry up, we needed to start fifteen minutes ago," she fussed.

Bo turned to me, holding a wrapped amp cable. "Sid."

I got up, and caught the cable as he tossed it to me. I quickly got it connected and moved to messing with the adjustments on the soundboard. Bo and I had set up and broken down this equipment so many times, it was second nature. We wrapped it up shortly after that and I returned to my seat.

"Well, luckily Sidney knows her way around stage equipment," Elle said, as Bo started playing at the keys to get warmed up. The tone in her voice worried me. When you've known someone for as long as Bo and I had known each other, it was not easy to pretend like you didn't.

Bo got started on the show and I started the stopwatch. Elle watched, from the front row, her head tilted in a way that seemed like she was judging every word he said. He was doing well, and honestly, because all the material was new to me, I couldn't help but to laugh into my shoulder several times.

But, somewhere around the midway mark, things went wrong. From where I was sitting on the side of the stage, I noticed that Bo began to repeatedly look away, towards the back of the stage. He was squeezing his eyes shut and blinking like he was having trouble seeing. At first I thought maybe his contacts were bothering him, but then, his signature looks of distress started to emerge. He stumbled over words, pressing the bridge of his nose, touching the back of his finger to his eyelid. And before too long I realized something was very wrong. He began breaking off, midway through sentences, trying to catch his breath. Then, I watched him lower to his knees, looking down to the floor, holding the mic in one hand and pressing his palm into the floor with the other, while he gasped.

I clicked the stopwatch and jumped up, running over to him. Skidding on my knees to his side. "Bo, what's going on?" I asked, watching him struggle. He reached up, grabbing his hair and clenching it, into his fist.

"He's fiiine, Sidney," Elle, said, as if she was bored with it, shaking her head. "Just let him get it together."

I looked back to Bo. He nodded, head still lowered. Like he was agreeing with her, but still trying to breath. He tried to stand, and I noticed the hand he was holding the mic with, shook violently. He dipped again and went back to the floor.

"Bo, take a deep breath, okay?" I said quietly. It took everything in me, not to reach out to comfort him.

He nodded, trying to steady his breathing.

"Okay, enough of this!" Elle got up, charging over to the stage. She leaned over the edge, getting within inches of his face. "Robert, we don't have time for this shit! We're on a tight schedule."

He nodded, "I know, I know," he said, dropping his forehead to his arm, resting on the stage.

"Get it together, right now. Stand up!" She barked.

I watched her, in shock, and imagined what it would be like to put my hands around her neck and squeeze until the life left her eyes. It was one thing if she wanted to terrify my writers, or snap at me. But watching her, completely strip Bo apart. I felt dangerous.

"Get the fuck up!" She slapped the stage.

Bo pulled himself up, slowly, and I watched, in horror, as he finished out the show, shaking like a leaf, breathing ragged.

That night, back at my apartment, I stood in the shower, crying. What had gone so wrong with him? Where the hell was the guy that pushed my ex into a fireplace for trying to propose to me? Elle's words, her eyes, they wouldn't leave me. How could she ever do that to him?

I got out of the shower, wrapping up in a towel and headed to my room, pawing through my clothes for something to wear to bed. I heard Teagan talking to someone in the living room, and I figured she was on the phone. But then, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I opened it, finding Bo standing there. His face was so torn and tired, it shocked me.

"Bo? Hey," I said, reaching out, touching his arm. "Are you ok?"

His tortured eyes, began shining with tears, and he shook his head, no. Then he collapsed into me. His head on my shoulder, arms around my waist. My heart broke. I pulled him in and shut my bedroom door, standing for a while as he cried quietly against my neck. I ran my fingers, over his hair, and rubbed his back. "It's okay," I whispered.

After some time passed, he leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice weak.

"Why are you sorry?"

He lowered his gaze to the floor. "I don't know."

I reached out, tilting his head to look at me. "Don't be sorry." I said, wiping the remaining tears, from his face.

He lowered his forehead, touching it to mine. "I miss you, Sidney."

"I miss you, too."

His lips fell to mine.

My towel fell to the floor.

We fell into the bed.

I fell further in love.

The Live shoot for Make Happy was only a few hours away. I finished noting out the storyboard for the next day and made my way to the stage area. Bo, was alone in the quietness of the empty theater. He sat on a stool, center stage, illuminated in show lights, reading quietly over the notes in his hands.

"Hey there," I said, quietly as I approached his side.

He looked up from his notes, "Hi," he said, a bright smile, lit up his face.

I felt my heart tug, under his adoring gaze. "I don't want to keep you long. I know you have a show in just a while. But, I just wanted to ask you something."

"What's that?"

"Do you remember, New York? Before that meeting at CC headquarters? We had lunch."

His face softens, "Of course I do."

"Okay. And while we were there, I reminded you, that no matter what, you still belong, only to you. Remember that?"

He drops his head, smiling. "I do."

"And what else did I say?"

He kept his head down, thinking for a moment. Then, he lifted his eyes to me, "I don't have to do it."

"That's right. If the day comes, that you don't want to do it, Bo. You don't have to do it."

He gazes at me in such a deep and truly loving way, I feel my knees get weak.

We hear a noise and turn to find Elle, walking out onto the stage.

"And when exactly did you guys have this conversation?" She said, her voice dancing more than usual. She stops directly in front of us. She eyes me, smiling. A smile that tells me, she's already won. "I know who you are. Sidney, from Danvers." She looks at Bo, with a tilt of her head. As if to say, 'you should have known better.'

"Elle,—" I tried to speak.

"How FUCKING dare you," she said, suddenly in my face. "I am not a fool, Sidney. And you sure as FUCK will not make me one. Get out of my building, and stay away from him," every word was laced with seething hate.

"Elle, stop," Bo said.

She pointed her finger, like a dagger, towards his face. "YOU, shut your mouth. How much more can she break you, that you could survive."

I took a step, to leave. She grabbed my arm, snatching me closer. In a low dangerous voice, she spoke, "Listen, Little girl. I can make careers, and I can break careers. You do not speak to him, you do not see him, you go nowhere near him. Or I'll end you, before you've even gotten started." She shoved me away. Bo jumped off the stool, shoving her, then he started to follow me.

"Robert! I mean it. I'll take everything from her."

That was last thing I heard Elle say, before making it out of the side wing door, and leaving Pratt studios, for good.

Later that night I got a text from Bo. It read:

Were like a storm, you know? Beautiful, exciting and powerful. That's us, Sid. They can also be unpredictable and devastating. We've been standing out in our storm, arms open, face to the sky for so long. We can't keep each other safe anymore. I love you, Sidney. I love you.

After a few months, I moved to New York.

I heard that Bo walked away from the stage.

I wouldn't see him again, for five -long –years.

L.A 2020 GUEST HOUSE

I race across the lawn to the Guest House. My face wet with tears, my busted lip, burning, my head pounding. I jerk the door open, and close it as fast as I can behind me.

Bo, sits on the bed, his head snapping up from papers in his hand. When he sees my face, he jumps up from the bed, and over to me. "Sid? What's wrong! What happened!" I fall into his arms, sobbing. He holds me tighter. "Talk to me, Sidney."

"Elle's here," I say into his chest. His whole body, tenses. "Also, I saw the engagement ring." I lean away and look up at him. He stares over my head for a moment and then slowly lowers his eyes to me, his brows tugged with pain

"Sid," he says.

"Robert!" I hear from outside.

"Bo, please. Please tell me you don't feel like you OWE her something! Please, tell me you aren't going to marry her!" I sharply inhale with a sob. "Please tell me you don't love her enough!"

The door flies open. "Get out, Bitch!"

Bo's eyes don't leave mine.

"Get out, Now!" She starts towards me. I step back from him, turning to leave.

"Sidney," He reaches out, grabbing my hand. I turn and look back at him.

"Good luck with the show," I say. "Shake some shit up, Burnham." Then, I let him go.

I grab my luggage by the door. I cross the yard. I get in the rental, and descend out of the hills, with only one thought running through my mind.

"Thank you for every moment, you enabled me to fly."