JULY 4 - 6

DAKOTA

There were times when I viewed my life as a screenplay. It was a game I played with myself as a way to almost dissociate from reality, and tonight was a time that I desperately wanted to do so.

FADE IN.

EXT. BRYCE SHAY'S WATERFRONT HOUSE — NIGHT

Tired and pissed off, Dakota Black walks across a manicured lawn to a brightly lit house. There are landmines of red solo cups that he swiftly evades.

DAKOTA

(to himself)

Happy birthday America.

INT: BRYCE SHAY'S HOUSE — KITCHEN

Heads turn in Dakota's direction. Sydney Atwood sees him coming and converges.

SYD

(smiling ear to ear)

We're going to face off in beer pong. I need to find my partner. Where's Brenna?

BRENNA

(eyes narrowing)

Forget BP. We've got bigger fish to fry.

Dakota blinks in the face of her callous tone. For a moment, he doesn't understand, but then he gets it:

DAKOTA

Seriously? I'm the fish?

BRENNA

You're the fish. What did you say to Allix?

DAKOTA

Nothing. Why?

SYD

(eager to be a diffuse the tension)

Allix is drunk. She's just fluttering around like a drunk pixie.

DAKOTA

Good for her.

BRENNA

(unamused)

God, do you even hear yourself right now? You're a total dick.

Boom: That's where Dakota draws the line.

Ending the game, I confronted my reality.

I looked between the two of them and scoffed. "Since when did I become the bad guy?"

Syd's gaze shifted to Brenna. "I'm going to tell him. It's better if he knows everything."

"Jesus Christ," I said, my vision flashing red. "Of course, you both already know."

It was a predictable betrayal, one I should've seen barreling my way like a freight train. They didn't trust me because they didn't believe I was one of them. Not anymore.

Syd exhaled a heavy sigh. "It's not what you think. We're not conspiring against you. Things just sort of happened."

"Bullshit," I shook my head. "Nothing just sort of happens."

"Yeah, well, it did," Brenna snapped, her blue eyes flashing. "Now, if you remember how to shut your mouth, we'll tell you what we know."

I looked away, battling the urge to not try and have the last word. Anger weighed down on my chest, hot and unforgiving, but I forced it down.

When I begrudgingly nodded, Brenna and Syd told me everything they claimed to know.

First, Brenna talked me through what happened at Cabin 13 on San Juan Island, and then Syd described how nervous Allie was of seeing Conrad Kane while on set yesterday. The only revelation that caught me off-guard was Conrad's secret relationship with Gretchen England.

Conrad was a straight-shooter, someone who I would've never expected to mix business with pleasure. His relationship with Gretchen would undoubtedly provoke criticism, but at the end of the day, they were rich and influential people. They would still find a way to come out on top.

But secret relationship aside, I was still failing to understand why on Earth Allix would be so reckless. That wasn't the girl I knew, and that was why I was - no, scratch that - am furious with her. I would've tried to help her even if she didn't want me to. I would find a way to help her, anyway.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why would she go inside the trailer? That doesn't make any sense."

"I already told you what I think," Brenna answered. "Conrad knows we were at the cabin, but he didn't do anything about it. He's probably going to try and blackmail us-"

"Conrad doesn't need to blackmail you," I interrupted hastily. "He hasn't done anything wrong!"

Sobering up, Syd placed a steady hand on my shoulder. "We can't know that for sure, Dakota. Also, didn't you say that one of the other producers thinks there are going to be accusations of sexual harassment?"

"That was last month," I answered. "There haven't been any."

"But Mike wouldn't make that up," Brenna insisted, lowering her voice considerably. "That's not something anyone should talk about lightly."

Struck by the gravity of her words, I reconsidered my defensive position. I refused to be ignorant in the face of injustice; turning a blind eye was what so many people in the film industry did for far too long. That won't ever be me, though.

When I looked at Brenna, I knew I would defend her in any way, shape, or form. "Okay," I surrendered. "Okay, you're right. Mike wouldn't make that up."

The corner of Brenna's mouth curved up into a smile. "Good. Now I don't need to fry you."

After begrudgingly accepting that it was in my best interest to clear the air with Allix, I left the two of them to make heart-eyes at each other.

It didn't take me long to find Allix; in fact, she was the one to find me, stealing me away from the prying eyes and into the corner of the lush garden. Hydrangeas that were the same vibrant blue of her eyes bloomed around us.

"There's something I need from you," Allix declared in a silvery voice. She was swaying in place, her hair wavy from the humidity.

"That's a first," I retorted, my gaze skating across her features. The moonlight only enhanced the paleness of her skin, with veins like tiny blue rivers running beneath the surface.

"I want a cigarette," she said and chuckled as I failed to contain my shock. "I'd go out and buy a pack, but my parents would find out. Everyone working at the convenience store or gas station is a snake. Anyway, I know you have one."

"I don't," I admitted, relieved in an instant. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to deny her something she claimed to want. "I'm trying to break the habit."

"Liar," Allix sang, stepping closer to me. Close enough for me to inhale the woodsy amber of her perfume.

"Check." I held my arms out airplane-style, and she scowled like a bitter TSA agent.

She didn't back down from my challenge, though. Her hands slipped into the front pockets of my jacket, lingering only for a second before withdrawing. With the exception of my car keys, she found nothing.

"That's called honestly, Allix," I said, unable to resist taking a swipe at her. To hell with clearing the air. That wasn't going to happen while she was intoxicated and pinning after a cigarette.

"Fine." Allix's eyes grew cold with artificial indifference, and she took a dramatic step away from me. "I know Sydney won't let me down."

As she moved to turn away, an ambiguous yet powerful emotion took hold of me. "You don't want one. Don't give yourself something to regret tomorrow morning."

I watched as some semblance of color returned to her cheeks. "Regret? Smoking one cigarette would be pretty damn low on the list of things I regret."

The sheer exhaustion dripping from Allix's words was reminiscent of how she sounded yesterday when she stepped out of Conrad's trailer, but there was something else there too. I thought it sounded like defeat. It terrified me.

"You know, maybe I'd take you seriously if you were sober," I told her.

She speared me with her eyes and found her mark inside my chest. "Well, if you don't have a cigarette and can't take me seriously, then there are other people I can grace with my presence."

I let her leave because that was what you're supposed to do, right? There was that saying about letting people go and hoping they would come back, but I refrained from overthinking the validity of it. I didn't want to risk having a change of heart.

The night accelerated. Fireworks started to erupt overhead, and the indie pop songs kept playing. The next time I saw Allix, she sat perched upon the railing of the front porch. A cigarette trembled between two of her slim fingers.

Allix frowned when she saw me approaching. "Don't scowl at me, Dakota."

I ignored the irritation punctuating the syllables of my name. "Are you happy now?"

She gave a breathless laugh, tendrils of smoke swirling around her. "Happy? Of course not. When was the last time I was actually happy?"

It was a rhetorical question, but I wished I could give her an answer. I wanted to fill the blank space in her mind with some dazzling memory because I didn't like the ending she was writing for herself.

"Allix." I dared to catch her by elbow, my hand easily encircling her arm. "Can I drive you home?"

In the soft light emanating from the colorful bulbs strung up along the perimeter of the roof, I caught the intrigue that sparked in her eyes.

"You have that look." Allix traced the line of my jaw with her pointer finger, and my heart momentarily froze. "You look like you pity me. I don't want it."

"It's not pity," I denied, but decided not to elaborate. It wasn't fair of me to take advantage of this moment. "The party is winding down. Let me drive you home, or I can find Rowena."

"Don't," she blurted out, flinching so hard that she nearly toppled backward. "Please don't do that. The last time I was this drunk was after the New Year's Eve party, and that didn't end well for me."

New Year's Eve.

I still didn't know what happened, and now wasn't the time to ask her. I settled on a different question. "What can I do?"

Allix's shoes connected with the deck, and she stood precariously upright. "I need to get out of here, but I can't go home like this. My parents, they'll know I'm-" she choked on a sob, and her head fell forward against my chest.

As I embraced her with one arm, I used my free hand to extract the dying cigarette from her fingers. "It's okay," I assured her, desperately hoping to be right. "We're going to figure this out, and you're going to get through this. I know you will."

Words weren't always the most effective remedy, but I was selfish to the point of wanting to try and throw her a verbal lifeline. Maybe she didn't need saving, but I wouldn't gamble with her well-being.

As fireworks continued to dance across the sky, muffling the sound of Allix's tears, her breathing eventually returned to a healthy rhythm. Upon recovering a fraction of her composure, she mumbled out an apology, and stepped out of my embrace.

Once we were back inside the house, there was no shying away from the stares. I wanted to believe that I was the one who everyone was looking at, but there was no mistaking the way Allix's red-rimmed eyes and vulnerable demeanor initiated whispers. She was simultaneously envied and pitied.

Thankfully, a reliable yet noticeably intoxicated face rounded the corner.

"Syd," I called out just as Allix stumbled in a way that somehow still appeared graceful. "A little help would be appreciated."

"For real?" Syd questioned with a laugh. He was standing far enough away that he couldn't see Allix's face. "Allix weighs, like, less than my Bernese Mountain Dog."

"One hundred and eleven," Allix grumbled, her eyes on the floor. "I'm one hundred and eleven."

I shot Syd a sharp, warning look. "You're really not helping."

When he stepped closer, his humor dissipated. "Oh, fuck. That was insensitive. Allix, you look great and healthy. . . shit, I can't articulate a quality sentence right now. I'm sorry."

Her smile was fragile. "Thanks."

The song playing on the loudspeaker ended, and the conversations around us suddenly stopped. The three of us were still on the receiving end of an unhealthy amount of attention.

"We're heading out," I said in a low voice. "Have you seen Rowena?"

Syd's eyes widened briefly, but he was quick to recover. "Yeah, I can go let her know what's up if that's easier."

"Can you tell her that I'm okay?" Allix spoke with uncharacteristic worry in her voice. "I don't want to ruin her night."

"Consider it done."

We left the party behind. The lack of streetlights on the narrow roads called for the use of the Mercedes's high beams, and it was in that light that I stole a few glances in Allix's direction.

She balanced her elbow on the base of the window and rested her head against her hand. Even though she seemed a lot calmer now, I worried that she was still a little too unsteady to be left alone.

The moment we stepped foot into my house, Allix tried to make an argument for why she should sleep on the floor. She said that it would be good for her spine, but I never considered it for a second. I waited until she tired herself out from talking, and she eventually agreed that a pillow barrier was a better solution.

"There are coffee stains on this sweatshirt," Allix stated when she emerged from the hall bathroom, swimming in the oversized UCLA sweatshirt I gave her to sleep in.

"Don't be picky."

"I'm not. I'm just making an observation."

With that, she crawled onto my bed and closed her eyes. The night faded out into a memory.

*

We went to the beach on Monday morning.

The thick fog and misty rainfall had kept the crowds at bay, and I appreciated the tranquility of the landscape. Low tide exposed a myriad of tide pools; they were microcosms of oceanic life, museums composed of miniature sea-stacks with starfish, sea anemones, and other small creatures. At the first one we stopped to explore, I found a nearly perfect sand dollar. I handed it to Allix.

After about a mile, we stopped to sit on a large piece of driftwood to watch the tide turn to erode the shoreline.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked without looking at Allix. She hummed in confirmation. "At the banquet when you said you didn't want me to ruin my career, what did that mean? Were you trying to justify keeping secrets, or something else?"

"Both, I think," Allix admitted and took an audible breath. "I didn't know what I was getting myself into, not really. Dragging you into some kind of elaborate conspiracy seemed cruel and selfish. I couldn't risk being the reason why you lost faith in Apex. I don't think I would be able to forgive myself."

I exhaled a weary laugh, still looking out at the waves. "You're the heroine who's trying to carry other peoples' burdens for them."

"That never ends well for the heroine," she retorted, her voice full of playful exasperation.

I finally turned to look at Allix. Her smile was timid, much like the sun trying to shine through the clouds above us. "The heroine usually works it out that she doesn't have to do things on her own."

She graced me with a tentative, second smile. This one reminded me of staring into the sun.

"I crashed my dad's car on New Year's Eve," Allix abruptly blurted out, but she kept her voice level. "I wasn't drunk...just empty. At first, I was so relieved that no one outside my family found out, but now I wish I wouldn't have gotten away with it. I wouldn't have been able to run away from the truth."

I swallowed hard. "Ireland wasn't the worst place to run to."

"Except it wasn't Ireland. It was an in-patient treatment center in Seattle."

I stopped breathing, my heart sinking like a stone into my stomach. "You don't have to talk about it. Not if you don't want to."

"I know." Allix let out a shaky breath. "But I think I'm going to give it a shot."

"Whenever you're ready."

The silence that settled between us was short lived.

"I thought I lost my period again," Allix started, staring out at the distant whitecaps. "It was over a week late, and I thought I threw away my best chance at getting better. I couldn't stand the idea of losing control again because sometimes the idea of failing is worse than actually failing, you know?"

I nodded and waited for her to continue.

"When I used to run competitively, I thought the middle of the race was the hardest. There would be a voice in my head telling me that crossing the finish line isn't worth the pain of running the race." Allix paused and looked down into her hands. "But I would always finish. I always knew how much time and distance I had left, so quitting was never even an option. Recovery isn't like that, though. There aren't any marked trails or finish lines with medals. It's also a race I never wanted to run, to begin with."

In the pause that followed her words, I scooted a little bit closer to gently take one of her hands. "But you're running it, anyway. I think that's pretty brave of you."

Allix tried to smile and a few tears fell. The breeze was quick to carry them away. "Are you taking me seriously now?"

"It would be hard not to," I said, and noticed that a column of sunshine succeeded in breaking through the clouds. It shone on the water like a spotlight.