Chapter 3

Now:

Of course Rey presented her best self to the stream of professional cameras paid to record the night. Though she attended the awards ceremony without a date, no one asked her for any details regarding the absence of her ex-fiancee or an introduction of a new partner. In fact, her mood was lightening as she went down the interview line-until she reached the last reporter.

The reporter's name tag read Poe Dameron. He glanced behind her and grinning, asked, "We see you're here with your handsome bodyguard. Is this a form of revenge, so to speak, since the last time you two were seen together, he'd broken your then fiancee Armie Hux's wrist quite violently? Or was there always some truth to the rumors?"

Rey stood frozen, unable to think let alone breath.

Poe emboldened the other reporters because now, a handful of microphones were in her face, all the questions a rapid stream of accusations and quick demands for information.

"Are you going to become an activist for regular STI testing, especially among younger adults like yourself?"

"Is this breakup going to affect your upcoming movie?'

"Do you still have the ring? If you do, why didn't you give it back-are you planning on reconciling with Armie Hux?"

"Is it really you in the sex tape? Are you filing charges?"

"Let's go." It took all six feet of Phasma to shove her down the red carpet, her hand wrapped around Rey's arm so tightly it was definitely going to bruise the next day. "Rey. Rey, ignore them. Don't answer any questions like that. We got the photos for tonight, now all we need is for you to smile throughout the ceremony and look hopeful that you'll be nominated next year. Rey, are you listening?"

Rey's eyelids fluttered and she felt dazed. "Yes. I just . . . I need a drink."

Before she could look for the bar, Ben swept in from the shadows and delivered a drink straight to her hand.

"I'm sorry" was all he said before leaving to take his place with the rest of security.

Then:

"It has to be him, Phasma. I don't trust anyone else to sell my photo to the tabloids or ask me about what happened so they can sell the fact that I haven't showered in, like, two days."

As usual, her publicist helped herself to the contents of Rey's fridge. Somehow, from a scattered handful of random ingredients left over from when Rey was eating actual meals, Phasma began recreating something that looked akin to spaghetti.

"People will talk, Rey," she insisted. "On top of everything being piled on you, is that really something else you want to address?"

"People are going to talk regardless of who is there. The stylist and hairdresser at least will only be here a few hours and I'll keep my mouth shut, but if someone is going to be in my home all morning, then actually with me until night, it has to be him."

Phasma stopped chopping vegetables and stirred the sauce she was heating up, back to Rey. "You hired me because I don't mince words. Any speculation about you and Ben was one thing while Hux was in the picture, but it's an entirely different monster now that you're single. A small part of your fanbase is actively routing for you two to become an official couple, so don't be surprised if reporters crucify you because of his presence. They will either A"-she held up a finger-"congratulate you to your face and afterwards villainize you for so short a grieving process or B"-she held up another finger-"ask more about him than you, your life, or your career."

It took Phasma another fifteen minutes to finish the spaghetti and serve them both a bowl, dusting shredded cheese and a sprig of parsley. It took Rey equally as long to finish her water and pick at the spaghetti, considering what Phasma had told her.

"No," said Rey. "It can't be anyone but him. If he's not too angry he was almost fired because of me, that is."

Now:

Rey was promptly buzzed by the end of the host's monologue and opening skit.

It wasn't as difficult to smile and clap and otherwise pretend tonight was pure fun. This year Rey was seated by the stage at a table full of past co-actors. Directly to her left was her best friend Finn, who had just finished playing her romantic interest in a historical drama entering the promotional stages. Finn had a flask tucked into his jacket and kept slipping spurts of whiskey into their drinks.

At a commercial break, he looked around conspiratally and stage-whispered, "I think the Resistance overlords are trying to set us up."

Rey giggled. "Oh yes, definitely."

"What do you think? Should I dedicate my award to you - because you know I am most definitely winning - and then propose, or should I wait until the after party?"

"I think you should flip this table and then cartwheel into a proper, kneeling position. Right after they name you the winner."

"You see, Rey, this is why we're perfect together. I'm the beauty and you're the brains."

They erupted into a fit of laughter until Finn slapped the table once he noticed something off in the distance. "I didn't know Solo was back in the bodyguard business."

Rey slowly looked over to the outskirts of the venue, where Ben walked past the stage, talking into an earpiece. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how they fired him after that whole thing with your jerk ex? He said he was going to stick to his old P.I. business." Finn shrugged. "Guess someone shelled out enough money to pull him out of retirement."

It felt like they were in outer space. Alone in the depths of the galaxy she represented. Inside a quiet spaceship. It felt like the wing had broken apart and she was careening into that very depth, all air lost and unable to catch herself.

"Finn," said Rey. "Are you sure about this?"

Nodding vigorously, he waved to Ben, who only returned a curt nod. "Oh yeah. You know my boy Solo and I have our Sunday brunch almost every week. His mom even came last week. I guess he's helping her with some people from her nonprofit, finding the parents they were separated from and whatnot."

Rey stared at him as though he had grown an extra head. "He's talking to his mother again?"

"Well, yeah. Ever since his uncle got sick. Just sad. So sad."

Ben had been so thoroughly involved in her life that in his absence, she hadn't known what to do. The one time she had shown up to his house, ready to apologize face to face, he hadn't been there and his neighbor had told her he rarely came.

"I ruined everything," said Rey, shaking her head. "I should have done more, been there. . . Finn, I ruined everything."

He nodded like he understood what she meant. "You can't ruin something that never really was."

A memory:

Awards ceremonies were typically well guarded. Rey didn't need Ben to accompany her the entire night, so he spent most of the night preventing overzealous fans from crashing the night. Sometimes he had to wrangle actors from one another, the competition too crisp for the civility of black tie. One time, once he swept her into the limo, he'd sported a lipstick smudge on his neck. Bright red and distinctive.

She was drunk. Grabbed his face and angled it so she could see.

"Who gave you this?" she asked. "Was it the love of your life?"

He rolled his eyes. "One of the nominees was so plastered she was crawling in the halls. I had to carry her through the side entrance and put her in her limo. She was handsy."

"Who was it? Tell me it was Amilyn Holdo."

Sighing loudly, he hit the ceiling and the chauffeur began driving. "Rey, I have other clients too."

"Yes, but I'm your favorite and you should only work with me. I can't believe she already requested you for Cannes. That's next year!"

"The company handles my scheduling."

"Yeah, but you're mine."

And she'd fallen asleep for the ride home, only to wake up to him carrying her to the living room.

"Ben," she said into the dark. "You should have a girlfriend. Just to keep the crazies away."

Her couch was comfortable enough to sleep in and lately, she spent more nights on it than in her own bed. Blankets were readily within reach. Ben unfolded one and laid it on her, leaving her face exposed.

"I do have a girlfriend, Rey. Her name is Connix."

Three days later, she met Connix. By accident. In the most embarrassing of scenarios-something she would obsess over for months.

She was excessively drunk, she could admit that much. After another blowout fight with Hux about nothing worth mentioning, she was at Starkiller with a few actors from her last movie. They were on the dance floor, lost in the frenzy of alcohol and the top 40s.

Rose had a bodyguard for the group of them. He was inconspicuous, lost in the shadows to the untrained eye. But Rey knew he was by the bathroom, back against the wall and arms crossed. Her paranoia was at an all time high, which is why she looked down at her drink and regretted ever having ordered it. She was too drunk.

As she raised her arms to the latest song, she staggered a step at the sight of Ben and a skinny blonde at the bar. That must be the girlfriend. She turned around, hoping he wouldn't see her. So she downed her drink, scrunching up her face at the taste and pretended she wasn't self conscious at her own distinct lack of femininity. Her face and body required experts to transform her into something that even whispered curves.

It felt like seconds. Half a step into the next minute before the world sped up and she struggled to catch up. Body weak and head pounding. She leaned against the wall, willing the room to stop spinning.

"Rey," someone yelled but the music was too loud. An arm around her shoulders.

It took hours, months, years to open her eyes and see Ben beside her.

"It's just. . . ." It took extreme effort to mumble those two words, but she raised her glass to him in hopes that he could read her mind somehow.

It happened quickly. The darkness of the club was replaced with the night outside, the air hot. Another summer and he was still here.

"Ben," another voice said. It must be her, the girlfriend. "Do you have to be the one to take her home?"

"She needs help. Don't you get what happened?"

Some muttering. "It's just another spoiled celebrity you work for. Let her friends take care of her. Come on."

"Don't talk about her like that. She's my friend and I'm going to make sure she's safe. You can either stay or come with me."

A long silence. "Fine. I guess Jessica can take me home. But we're talking tomorrow. This isn't okay."

It was inside her living room that she stopped feeling the physical altogether. What happened next she pieced together through the handful of moments she was aware of her surroundings.

He called the private nurse, who showed up in the middle of time to avoid any leaked information to the media. Phasma arrived shortly as well. Rey was in and out of consciousness, and when she sat up in the morning, it wasn't Ben but Hux sitting beside her and eating cereal.

"Well hello, kitten. How are you feeling?"

She plopped back onto her couch and groaned. "Like shit."

"Come on, let's get you in the shower."

It was with great effort that Rey climbed the stairs and stripped her clothes off in the bathroom. Hux waited inside her bedroom on his phone, occasionally calling out her name to make sure she was alive. For the most part, Rey was embarrassed. For Ben to have seen her life that, him and his girlfriend. And for that to have even happened in the first place, not that it was a surprise. Some of her castmates were morally questionable people. Rey should never have trusted someone else to buy her drink.

On the couch was a black sweater. She picked it up and just knew it was Ben's. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she lifted it to her face and smelled it, eyes closed. Coconut and sandalwood. Just like him.