Chapter 6: Photos

Devon left at five in the morning, with his hood up and his phone off.

By eight, there were photographs of us on four websites.

In the first one, he was kissing me against my own window.

The headline said, "POP STAR'S DISCARDED ASSISTANT: SEVERANCE OR SEX?"

I read it standing in my kitchen in a T-shirt, with a bite mark on my shoulder.

Then I got dressed and went to buy coffee, because I refused to hide in my own house.

The café on Sunset was packed.

Half the line stared at their phones, and the other half stared at me.

I got to the counter and ordered a large black coffee.

"Oh my God, it's her," a girl behind me whispered.

The door opened with a jingle.

Lexi Rotherhithe walked in with two friends and a man holding a camera.

She was wearing white, and she had a new dark red lipstick, and she saw me and smiled.

"Laurel!" she called. "Hi!"

The whole café turned.

She came right up to me and put a hand on my arm.

"I'm so sorry you're going through this," she said, loud enough for the back row.

"Everyone knows how hard it is when you get attached to your boss."

"I'm fine," I said.

"You don't have to pretend."

Her friends giggled.

The man with the camera stepped closer.

Lexi leaned in, and her voice dropped to a whisper only I could hear.

"Devon is mine now," she said. "Stop sneaking into his bed. It's sad."

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