Chapter 8

"How…," he said. "How did they even get that? We checked everywhere to make sure there weren't any of them. I… ugh, I'm sorry, Tris."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault."

Tris stared at the picture on the phone screen. It was a photo of a newspaper headline reading Prior & the Producer: A Perfect Passion? The image was of her and Tobias walking around at the park two days ago. They were standing still on the trail, Tris looking up at him affectionately, and him looking down at her the same exact way. Their pinkies were twined together, hooked, barely holding on to each other. When she thought about it, it was actually a wonderful picture of them, but it was something she didn't want the entire world to see.

She was fairly confident Tobias was thinking the same thing.

"Oh, man. The New York Tattler. I hate those guys. Most of them are rumors, unless they have photo evidence. Which, in our case, they do. This probably hit social media any minute if it already hasn't. Your fans will likely go ballistic."

Tris paused. "Well, at least it's a cute a picture," she mumbled.

He laughed. "It is pretty great, isn't it?"

She smiled. "I guess the whole thing really won't be that big of a deal. Anyway, do you want to go to dinner tonight? Celebratory promotion dinner?"

He shook his head. "Not really."

"Well, do you want me to make dinner?" she offered.

He shook his head again. "Not really."

She smirked and put a hand on her hip. "Do you want to make pancakes half-naked and watch romcoms and have a second round?"

He nodded. "That sounds much better."

"Hm," she said, walking out, "we'll see." Then a wink, and she was out the door.

When Tris arrived home at three o'clock after recording, she got to work. She knew Tobias would be home at around five, and she needed some time.

First, she turned on music, essential to getting any work done at all.

Second, she began to create a large fort in the middle of the living room. It was bigger than they usually made it. It had a lot of blankets, pillows, and snacks.

Third, she lit candles in the living room and bedroom. She made a small pathway from the door to the kitchen table, where his real love would await.

Pancakes.

Before she made those, she changed into nothing fancy—just pajama bottoms with a tank top, where the pajama bottoms had a bunch of Batman symbols on them. So, yeah, Tris was really setting her standards high.

Then she began to make the pancakes around 4:50, so they'd still be warm when he got home.

She placed the pancakes, a bowl of strawberries (which was his favorite with pancakes and waffles), and whipped cream on the table.

Suddenly she heard the door shut as she was leaning over to place everything on the table.

She turned around, grinning. "Hi."

He looked around his apartment, smiling. "Hello."

"Um," she said apprehensively, "I made pancakes. With strawberries. And whipped cream," Tris added, her anxiety kicking in.

He chuckled as he walked toward her. "I love you." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she leaned her head on his chest comfortably.

"I love you too," she said softly.

He pulled back, seeming like he hadn't wanted to. "These pancakes are about as irresistible as you."

Tris stood in front of the door. That door was the barrier between Sweets, Tobias, and a record deal. Out of all of the things she went through in her life, that door—that fucking door—was going to prevent her from reaching her dreams. She didn't know if she was strong enough to grasp the handle. Or if she could turn it. Or if she could push it open. The hardest part, though, was simply reaching out the grab the handle.

She stood there for at least two straight minutes contemplating scenarios about what would happen if she went in; one of which concluded in the entire building burning down.

Reaching out, her hand hovered above the metal handle, and then she firmly grasped it, twisted it ninety degrees, then pushed the door open.

She strode in, exuding confidence she didn't actually have.

There was a singular chair across the table from the two of them.

Tobias and Tris didn't speak about the meeting since the apartment and the brownies and the overall evening. Tobias didn't know what decision she would make, which was quite unnerving for him, Tris could tell.

"Ah, Ms. Prior. Shall we begin?"

She nodded.

"Alright. Let's get down to business. The contract, in a nutshell, states that you must stay for a one-album deal. If you want out after that, then you may produce with a different company. Many successful singers choose to stay with their original company/producer, but unsuccessful…not so much. Anyhow, it also includes how your producer may do anything he or she wants to do with your career path. I may step in, but only in extreme cases. So you might want to trust this guy," Sweets said, motioning to Tobias.

When Sweets was looking down at the contract, Tobias threw her a wink.

"That's just the major stuff. The little things are just like how you get to live in the apartment and what not. Also, I forgot to mention this. You much reach a certain number in sales amount for a tour. Usually what happens is that there's a national tour for the first album, then, if the second album is extremely successful, you will go on a world tour. Feel free to read if you'd like."

Tris took a deep breath in, then a deep breath out.

"One question," she said quietly. "May I pursue a completely professional in-office relationship with a coworker?"

He deliberated. "I suppose that was Mike's rule, wasn't it?"

The question itself was a rhetorical one, so neither of them answered.

"I don't believe it says anything in the contract, so I can't do anything about it. So, yes, it is permitted. But I ask of you that you keep it professional in the office and studio."

She smirked, leaning forward, putting her elbows on the table.

"Then where do I sign?"

—

"You did it," he said. "Why?"

Tris and Tobias were on their way home together, walking on the sidewalk filled with a bunch of New Yorkers and tourists.

"1) You're here, 2) I kind of love you, 3) You inspire me, 4) You're my producer now, and you practically control my career, and, 5) It's what you do when you love somebody, Tobias."

He didn't respond.

Then, "I'm afraid, Tris."

She was perplexed.

"I'm afraid that fame is going to get to you and you'll change and you'll become addicted to the attention and you'll leave me for some hot and famous actor like—like Henry Cavill; that British one who plays Superman."

"We actually knew each other in high school… I wonder how he's doing now outside of acting. You know, with being fam—"

"Not my point, Tris."

"Right," she muttered. "I just really find it hard to believe that you think I might actually change and become someone I'm not, you know? You're my world, and for you to think that… It hurts, Tobias. And besides, you're, like, just as buff as Henry, so it's not like you've got anything to worry about," she said, making it clear she was upset.

Tobias sighed. "You're right. I should know you well enough to be confident you won't change for the worse. I'm sorry."

Tris frowned, still. "It's all right. Just... I'm going home."

"Home?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'll see you later then?"

She shrugged for an answer, then left him standing there, motionless.