You have faded my reality like leaves that turn to dust

Fell asleep inside a fantasy and woke up feeling lost

Now I'm terrified and restless but I just cannot escape

I wish you had words to cool this fever that is killing me

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wednesday, December 14, 2019.

I was a terrible human being.

If I'd thought badly of myself before, I'd hit a new low now. I'd knowingly slept with a guy who I knew was already taken. Granted, I'd been drunk off my ass and also high on him, but that was no excuse. It didn't matter how much I'd drank, it didn't matter how intoxicating he'd been, and it definitely didn't matter how madly in love with him I was.

Henry was with Alyssa. That was what that mattered. What mattered was that I'd sunk to a level I'd sworn I'd never sink down to. I used to be the kind of girl who would never ever cheat on someone—and technically I've still never done that, but knowingly helping someone cheat was just as bad. No matter how in love with him I was, I never should've crossed that line.

It had been weeks since that goddamn night, and Henry and I hadn't spoken since. I couldn't bear to seek contact with him for obvious reasons, and he hadn't sent me as much as a text either. And really, what would that text even say? 'Thanks for the sex but I can't ever see you again'? Exactly.

I hadn't told anyone about that night. The secret was honestly eating me up from the inside out. I was pretty sure Hanna knew that something bad had gone down in Amsterdam, but I didn't have the guts to tell her. I already thought lowly enough of myself, and I didn't need her to join me.

And then there was Vince... He was perfect at reading my moods, and not in a good way. He seemed to know when I was feeling down, and did everything in his power to make me feel worse. If he noticed something he said got a reaction from me, he was sure to say it again at a time he knew I was already vulnerable. And honestly, after what I'd done, I actually felt like I deserved it. Filming this movie with him was like a worse version of prison. The good news was, though, that there were only a couple more weeks left of my sentence. Just two more weeks and I'd be free from constant abuse, apart from my own.

"Do you think I could just skip work today?" I asked as I clutched a giant cup of tea at the breakfast bar. "I don't feel like going to set today."

"Honestly, you probably should skip work. You don't look so well."

"I don't feel so well." I sighed. "But if I don't go, it'll only give Vince even more ammunition and I don't want that, either."

Hanna leaned over the bar and pressed her hand to my forehead. "Honey, you are burning up."

"No, I'm not," I protested. "It just seems that way because your hands are cold."

Hanna gave me a pointed look. "I was just holding a cup of coffee, Jules. My hands are not cold. You are, however, having a fever, and if you aren't gonna call Vince and tell him that you can't come in today, I will."

"Hanna, no, you can't do that. You don't understand; there are filming schedules to uphold. Even if this movie was directed by someone I do like, I wouldn't just be able to call in sick."

Hanna sighed and rubbed a hand over her jaw, letting me know she was getting frustrated with me. "At least let me take your temperature."

"Fine," I grumbled.

Several minutes later, Hanna exclaimed, "A hundred and four degrees? Dude, how did you even get out of bed? You are not going to work, even if I have to barricade every damn door and window in this house. Give me your phone, now."

Reluctantly, I slid my phone out of my pocket and handed it over to her. There was no use in resisting, I knew. She would just wrestle me for it, and in my state, it wouldn't last long before I'd have to surrender it over anyway. "Just... Go easy, okay?"

She gave me another pointed look before unlocking my phone and searching in my contacts for Vince's phone number. She dialed it and pressed the phone to her ear. Within seconds, her face contorted with disgust. "Is that really how you greet the star of your movie? My God, you are..." Seeing my face, she halted her words and took a deep breath. "All right, never mind. Either way, I'm calling to say that she won't be able to come to work today, due to a fever of a hundred and four degrees." As Vince responded, her disgust turned to pure anger. "Excuse me? Quite frankly, I don't give a damn about what you think. What matters is that Juliette is sick and she won't be able to work today, unless you want the rest of your cast and crew to get sick as well." Vince said something else and Hanna laughed harshly. "I already knew you were a piece of... work, but this just confirms it. Either way, no matter how much of a—okay, I really can't hold back this time—how much of an asshole you are, Juliette won't be coming in today. I'm sure you'll be able to figure something out seeing as you're so damn smart. Have a good day now." She angrily ended the call and slammed the phone down on the breakfast bar.

"Oh, God..." I groaned.

Hanna turned to me, a mixture of anger and disbelief on her face. "Is this really how he talks to you?"

"I didn't hear his half of the conversation, but probably, yeah."

"Oh my God, if I ever meet him in person, I'm gonna fucking kick him in the nuts, I swear to God."

"I know, but for now, you probably just made things worse for me. I know you meant well, but you kind of just cussed out my boss on my behalf. That does not bode well for me."

Realization dawned on her and she slumped over the breakfast bar, her head in her hands. "Oh my God," she groaned. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have. But we all do things we shouldn't do, and I'm too sick right now to be mad at you." Honestly, I was wasting all my energy on being mad at myself.

"Right. I'm still really sorry, though. Anyway, get your ass over to the couch and I'll make you some soup."

I nodded and took both my phone and cup of tea to the living room, cuddling up with a throw blanket that had been left there from the night before. Feeling shaky, I set my tea down on the coffee table and unlocked my phone. I hadn't checked social media yet today, so now was probably as good a time as any. After scrolling through Twitter, I posted a tweet saying that I wasn't feeling too well, and then went on to check Snapchat and Instagram. After scrolling through it for a while, I saw a picture that made my heart stop.

It was a picture Henry had posted of him and Alyssa. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips pressed to his cheek. He was smiling as big as ever, and it was like I literally felt my heart break.

I hadn't seen much of him since... well, since that night, and I definitely hadn't seen any evidence of him still being together with Alyssa. I guess some vain part of me had hoped that he would break up with her after our night together, but I'd known that was wishful thinking. Part of me wondered if he'd even told her about us. If so, had she been mad? Or had she easily forgiven him for it? Had he told her it had meant nothing? That it was just a drunken mistake? Or hadn't he told her at all and was guilt now eating him alive, just as it did me?

"Honey, what's going on?"

I looked up and saw Hanna standing in the door opening with a bowl of soup in her hands and a look of concern on her face. I cleared my throat and belatedly realized I'd been crying. I hurriedly tried to wipe my tears away but knew it was too late anyway. She'd already seen them. "Nothing."

Hanna set the bowl down on the coffee table and placed her hands on her hips. "Okay, no. None of that shit. You've been acting weird ever since you came back from that press tour. I understand if you don't want to talk to me about what happened, but don't try to pretend that nothing's wrong. You know I know you better than that."

I nodded. "I know," I said, my voice small.

"Then please tell me what's wrong," Hanna pleaded gently, sitting down next to me on the couch.

I sighed. "It's just... It's just really embarrassing."

"Your kind of embarrassing or my kind of embarrassing?"

"Both. And it's not really embarrassing as much as just plain bad. Hanna, I made a huge mistake."

Hanna frowned and scooted a little closer, squeezing my knee with her hand. "No matter what it is you've done, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is."

I bit my lip, covering my face with my hands. I was still crying. "I just don't want you to think any less of me."

She grabbed hold of my wrists and pulled my hands away from my face, forcing me to look at her. "No matter what, I will never think less of you. I will never stop loving you as much as I do. And I will never, ever stop being your best friend. So you can tell me. This is a judgment-free friendship, remember? It always has been, always will be."

I knew that. But it wasn't really about not wanting her to know as much as me not wanting to say the words aloud. I was too ashamed. Also, my first instinct was always to run away instead of just dealing with things. "I remember."

Hanna actually looked pained. "Honey... I love you so much, and I just want you to be okay. I don't know what the problem is, but I do know you. Every time something's bothering you, you keep it in and let it eat you up inside. Please don't do that this time. I'm begging you."

I took a deep breath, but it ended up being too deep and I coughed. All my bones and all my muscles hurt, but Hanna was right. I didn't want to carry the burden of this heavy secret all on my own anymore. "That last night, after the talk show in Amsterdam, Henry and I got drunk. Like, really drunk. And..." I felt the tears fall from my eyes even faster, and there was a big lump in my throat, making it hard for me to speak. "And I slept with Henry."

If I wasn't so worried (and sick), I might've laughed at her reaction. I literally saw her jaw go slack, and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. "You... slept with..." She shook her head. "Okay. Wow. Yeah. No, I can't say I saw this one coming."

"Me neither," I admitted.

"So... What happened?"

"I, um... I suggested we get drunk. I was feeling really anxious about going back to L.A. and probably never seeing Henry again, so I guess I was feeling a little reckless. And then an hour later we were both super drunk and, I don't know, it was just as if we were being pulled closer and closer together. And then he told me he cared about me, and then he told me I was beautiful, and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me. And then everything just kind of... Well, you know."

"Sounds like this was more on him than on you."

"Maybe, but I still kissed him back. I could've pulled away at any given time and told him what we were doing wasn't okay, but I never did. Instead I had sex with him. I helped him cheat on another woman. What does that say about me?"

"It means that you had a temporary lapse in judgment. It means that the temptation of him—of the man you love—was too big to resist, and that's okay. You're human. Humans make mistakes. I mean, look around you. Much worse mistakes than sleeping with someone who's already taken are made every day, and many of the people who make those mistakes feel a lot less guilt over it. And don't even pretend otherwise, because I know the guilt is eating you alive. It's okay to ease up on yourself, you know."

I sighed, and then coughed again. "Maybe so, but that won't stop making me feel miserable. I still love him, Hanna. I still love him so incredibly much."

"Even after he cheated on Alyssa with you?"

I made a whining noise, the sound made even worse by the fact that I was sick and my voice was growing hoarser by the minute. "I know it makes no sense whatsoever. The fact that he's a cheater should be the biggest deterrent ever. You know I hate cheaters. But knowing what it's like to be with him—like that... It's only made things worse, made everything even more confusing and fucked up."

"It makes more sense to me than you'd think. I know how you felt about him before, and something like this... Well, it usually solidifies the bond that's already there. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if he's thinking about you nonstop too now."

"If that's true, how come he hasn't called or texted me at all?" Feeling the tears sting behind my eyes and my throat close up, I asked, "How come he's still with Alyssa?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "He's still with... Oh. Well, that complicates things."

I laughed wryly. "Yeah. Well. I can't believe I actually thought he'd break up with her for me. I mean, it's not like I asked, but... I don't know."

"I get it. Part of me really wants to pay him a visit right now and ask him what the hell is going on in that head of his, but I won't do that because I know you don't want me to. Besides, it's harder to get to a celebrity than you might think, especially when you come across as a little... homicidal."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "It's the thought that counts, so thank you."

"Now, dish. Because I know you feel miserable, but I also know that you have been dying to tell me all about that night. So tell me."

I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks and I knew I was blushing a bright crimson. "You really wanna know?"

"Well, yeah. You've already told me how good of a kisser he is, so now I'm kind of curious about how well Superman fares in the sack."

Choosing to ignore the way she'd phrased it, I sank deeper into the couch's cushions and sighed. "So good..." I muttered. "Like, I don't even know how to describe it. Just the way he made me feel, everything he said... And all that while he was drunk off his ass. Imagine what it would be like when he's sober." It must be the flu talking, otherwise I never would've said that out loud, not even to Hanna.

"Did you orgasm?" Hanna asked bluntly, a grin forming on her lips.

Feeling my face grow even warmer, I admitted, "Twice."

"Girl!" Hanna said, her grin widening. "At least there's that."

"It's just about the only positive thing, if you ignore the fact that I feel totally guilty about it all. But anyway, now you get it."

"Now I get it," Hanna agreed morosely. "So, want to tell me what happened that made you cry? I'm assuming this didn't come out of nowhere."

I sighed and handed her my phone. "Henry posted a picture of him and Alyssa to his Instagram. It was the first evidence I've seen of them still being together, so... I don't know, I guess I was just really hoping he'd break up with her right after... that night, but I guess he didn't. And it's not just the sting of them still being together, I guess it's more me being disappointed in his character. If they're still together, he probably hasn't told her about us. Shouldn't he have told her about us?"

Hanna shrugged. "Who knows, maybe he did. Maybe he told her and she doesn't care. Maybe she's willing to stay with a cheater. Or maybe he hasn't told her and feels just as guilty as you do."

"Or maybe he hasn't told her because he thought it meant nothing. Maybe he hasn't told her because he was so drunk he can't even remember any of it."

Sympathy on her face, Hanna asked, "And how would you feel if that were the case?"

"Pretty fucking shitty," I admitted honestly. "I don't know," I said with a groan that made me cough again. "I just got so many mixed signals from him. Everything pointed towards him feeling the same for me—and you know how I normally don't even see stuff like that—and the only evidence pointing against it is him being with Alyssa. That's what makes this whole thing so fucking confusing."

"Maybe..." Hanna started slowly, perking up slightly. "Maybe he isn't with Alyssa at all."

I gave her a pointed look.

"No, seriously, think about it. Everyone saw that he was into you. And if even you noticed it, then he must be giving you some serious lovey-dovey eyes. What if him 'being with Alyssa'"—she actually threw up air quotes—"is just a tactic to make you jealous?"

"Then why didn't he just tell me so the minute he kissed me? Or if it slipped his mind in the heat of the moment," I said quickly, knowing that would be her next argument, "why didn't he just call me afterward?"

Hanna slumped back into the couch's cushions with a sigh. "I don't know. Maybe he chickened out or something? But what I do know is that your soup got cold. Do you want me to reheat it?"

I gave her a sheepish smile. "Please?"

She returned to the kitchen just as the doorbell rang, and she hastily set the bowl down, urging me to stay put while she moved to open the door. For a moment, I worried it might be Vince, coming to see if I really was sick—I wouldn't put it past him. But I had nothing to worry about, because when she came back, she was followed by Harvey and the smell of more soup. "There's my favorite ex-employee!"

I couldn't help but smile at him. He'd been doing much better since his heart attack, and I'd been surprised to find out that he was actually taking my advice. He listened to his doctors, took his meds faithfully and lessened his hours at the restaurant. Apparently the threat of Keegan forcing him to do all those things had been enough to scare him into obedience. "You'll never let that go, will you, Harvey?"

"Can you blame me? You were the best employee I ever had," he responded, giving me an easy grin. "But you left me for much bigger and better things, and I couldn't be prouder. Now, I heard you were sick. You look it, too."

I pulled a face. "Thanks, Harv," I said, sarcasm dripping from my raspy voice. I didn't even bother asking how he knew I was sick. The most likely explanation was Chelsea seeing my tweet and telling Harvey about it (she never could keep her mouth shut).

He waved the comment away. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. You can make even the flu look good."

Hanna snorted. "He has a point, you know."

"I brought you some soup." He looked down at the coffee table, where Hanna had hastily put the bowl of soup before opening the door. "But I see now you already have soup."

Hanna shrugged. "It's probably best you brought some over. This is now cold and came out of a can, so it wouldn't taste as good as yours anyway. Your cooking is, like, phenomenal."

"Oh, shush," Harvey told her, but it was clear her compliments were making him happy. "But you'd better eat it soon, while it's still hot."

He handed me the bag, and I found the takeout bowl complete with spoon inside. Harvey's didn't deliver, but every time I would be doing inventory back when I still worked for him, he'd always make me order some takeout stuff. He liked to practice his cooking at home and then take his creations to work for us to taste. I missed those days. Everything he made was always heavenly. So I tore the lid off excitedly, and put the first spoonful of soup in my mouth. And though my taste buds weren't working quite properly now that I was sick, the soup was still bursting with flavor on my tongue, so much so that I nearly moaned. "This is amazing, Harvey," I told him earnestly, even though my sore throat made swallowing the hot liquid difficult.

"I'm glad you like it, kid," he grinned. He sat down next to me on the couch, and Hanna took the spot on my other side. "Now, what are we watching?"

I looked at him. I'd expected him to drop off the soup and leave again, but apparently he was here to stay. The realization made my heart swell up with love.

If Ella was my surrogate mother, Harvey was my surrogate father. Actually, now that I think of it, they'd fit together pretty well. And as my head spun with ideas to set them up, Hanna settled on Mean Girls.

"Is this that movie with the girl from Africa who's not actually from Africa? And that bitch that gets hit by a bus?" Harvey inquired. "I love that one."

I smiled. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Thursday, December 15, 2019.

The next day, however, was an entirely different story. Even though I was far from being completely healthy again, I did feel a little bit better (my fever had dropped to a hundred and one degrees), and had no other choice but to return to work. The panic I felt before leaving nearly made me run to the toilet and throw up all the meager things I'd managed to eat yesterday.

Harvey had stayed the whole day, not leaving until it was around nine or ten. He'd made sure I'd drank plenty of fluids and ate something here and there. He kept me warm underneath my blanket and tried to cool me down when my fever spiked. He was taking care of me like not many others would, and the love and appreciation I felt for him made my heart swell. Like I said, he really was like a father to me.

Harvey staying with me also gave Hanna the chance to go to work without having to worry about leaving me on my own. She worked at a riding school (she was obsessed with horses and always smelled at least vaguely of them), and though I knew they were always short on staff in the winter months, she was completely willing to call in sick. I could tell she was relieved to not have to.

Now, the next morning, she was staring at me intently, obviously trying to determine whether I was ready to go to work or not. It was also obvious she'd barricade all windows and doors—like she'd threatened to do yesterday—if she deemed me not ready.

After squinting at me for almost a full minute, Hanna finally blinked. "Do you want me to drive you to work today? I could also pick you up, if you want. Or have Keegan do it. He has today off, right?"

I slowly released a breath, simultaneously relieved and disappointed that she wouldn't fight to keep me in the house. I didn't want to go to set, but I knew that if I stayed home another day, Vince would make my return that much more horrible. "No, I think I can manage getting myself to and from work. Thanks for the offer, though," I told her, genuinely grateful. Part of me did want her to come with me, though, thinking that, maybe, Vince would go a little easier on me with her there. Her conversation with him on the phone yesterday made me think otherwise, though.

"If you're sure," Hanna said, not sounding sure at all. "Just... If you need me—even if it's for the most trivial thing in the world—just call. Okay?"

I nodded, giving her a weak smile. It was the best I could manage. In front of her, at least. It didn't matter how great of an actress I was, Hanna would always be able to see through my every lie. That was the downside to being best friends for over two decades. "Okay."

I gave her as tight a hug as my weak muscles and joints could manage, and grabbed my stuff before leaving and getting into my car. It was still incredibly early, but that was my own doing. I'd decided to go to work early, knowing that the makeup artists needed all the time they could get to cover up my sick face.

And yet it still wasn't enough.

"Jesus fucking Christ. You look even shittier than usual. Let's hope the special FX guys can do something about..." Vince waved his hand at my face. "That." He looked at me with disgust all over his features, and I found myself wishing once again that I just could've stayed home. Wishing I'd never auditioned for this movie in the first place. "We're still setting up now, so in the meanwhile, stay as far away from me as possible. I don't want you to get me sick. Actually, stay as far away from anyone as possible."

His words nearly made me cry. He was making me out to be some kind of pariah, and I hated that. I didn't want to be around people right now, but I still liked having the option to change my mind. Now I was forced onto my own island, and it sucked.

I sank down in my chair and slid my phone out of my pocket. Unable to stop myself, I opened Instagram and went to Henry's account, looking up the picture he'd taken of us on top of the New Church in Delft. It was taken on the day everything had gone so terribly awry. We both looked happy in the picture, unaware of what would happen just a few hours later.

If I'd known, what would I have done? Would I have said no when he asked me to accompany me to my parents' hometown? Or would I have been unable to resist even then? Would I still have suggested to get drunk together?

It didn't matter anyway. I couldn't change the past, no matter how hard I wished for a time machine, no matter how much I wondered if there were any other outcome. It was about time I accepted that I had fucked up. I was never meant to be with Henry; everything that had led up to this point proved that.

And the hardest part of loving you is that you were never mine.

The lyric played on a loop in my mind. It came out of nowhere, but it struck me with how true it was. Because Henry and I were never really a thing, it was hard to find closure. But I at least had to try, because life doesn't stop for anyone.

"Morrison, get your gross ass over here!" Vince boomed. "We're starting the scene!"

I winced at his words, and tried to reel in my emotions. I got up from my chair and slowly made my way to my mark.

"Just two more weeks," I murmured under my breath. "You just have to hold on for two more weeks."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lyrics at the start of the chapter are One Grain Of Sand by Ron Pope.

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