*— NARRATIVE, MESSAGES

THE meeting ran late, though neither I, Skylar, nor Avery was surprised.  We had already ordered coffee to be served in the middle of the meeting, not too early that one of us had to go use the restroom but not too late that it wouldn't kick in till we were finished.

  I smothered another yawn, rubbing my face tiredly as the men in suits continued to draw on.  It was always the same, we had very similar weekly meetings with the label.  I had gotten the message the first time.  I needed new music, and quickly too.  Not only were the folks at Interscope impatient, but they were also convinced that the fans were.

  Impatient fans will drift away, uninterested after waiting for such a long time, and no fans meant to profit.  At least, that's what the record label believed.  Avery and I shared another annoyed look as the balding white man in his late 50s moved on to yet another slide, the slideshow seeming to be endless.

  We had already sat in the room for more than 2 hours, going over statistics, daily, weekly, and monthly listeners, and on and on and on.  It was simple, our relationship.  The label paid me and gave me the resources to create music, I make it and the money starts pouring in.  Everyone gets paid, and everyone is happy.

  So when there's no new music, there is no money, resulting in unhappy people.

  "You've already done the Vogue photoshoot," the man said, motioning for my attention to be drawn to the current slide.  Large letters that read "publicity" were printed at the top, with a list of possible options to gain publicity listed below.  "How long will it take for you to finish the album?"

  I blinked slowly, glancing at Skylar quickly, who gave a subtle shake of the head.  "I don't know," I admitted quietly.  "I mean, we're getting stuff done, for sure.  But it'll take some time to make the 20-track album you want.  It would be a lot faster if we just released the 10 tracks I already have -"

  "Frankie, we've already gone over this," he interrupted, shaking his head.  I silently cursed his name as I forced my face to stay emotionless.  "10 tracks aren't enough.  This is your debut album we're talking about.  Not an EP."

  "Albums can be 10 tracks," I argued back coolly.  "I'm just saying that it'll take a while to write and produce 10 more songs in the timeframe you're giving us."

  "We just want the album to be released before the deadline for Grammy submissions," another man commented.  "You have months."

  Well, it's kinda hard to write songs when I've thrown away my only source of inspiration, I wanted to snap back.  Instead, I stated, "You do realize that with the schedule you created for me, I barely have time to get into the studio each day.  I may have months but an hour a day isn't enough time to do anything.  So I'm sorry if I'm running a little behind, you assho-"

  "Frankie!" Skylar exclaimed, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me up and towards the door.  "Excuse us."

  As the door shut behind us, the woman let go of my arm, a deep frown on her face.  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She asked harshly.  "You can't speak to your own label like that, you'll get fired."

  "I'm so fucking tired of this, Sky," I complained, resting my back against the wall as I glared at the floor.  "They want fucking 10 more tracks but don't give me enough time to do anything.  I haven't even finished the initial 10 I already had in mind because of the stupid publicity they insist I do!"

  "Get it together!  Why do you suddenly have trouble with this?  You were perfectly capable of handling this 3 months ago," my agent hissed.  "What is going on?"

  "I...."  I paused, shaking my head.  "I don't know."

  "Yes, you do!  Tell me!"

  "I don't know!"

  "Frankie!"

  "I'm so fucking close to losing it!" I exploded, throwing my hands up in the air.  "Alright?  I am at my breaking point."

  "What the fuck happened over that road trip?  Something must've happened because you have not been the same," Skylar observed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  "I fell in love," I whispered harshly, clenching my jaw as I made a 'fine, I said it' face.  "I'm in love with someone who lives 11 hours away!  Someone I left behind and cut out of my life because the pressure of fucking being famous got to me.  And I can't move on and focus on my career because I was not lying when I said I would throw away everything I have for her!  I can't pretend that I'm not in love with her.  I can't."

  I breathed out shakily.  "I can't be the person everyone wants me to be.  I can't be nice, respectful, pretty, a role model, and a date, and a good friend, and everything else people expect me to be.  I've tried.  I've tried to follow both my heart and my head, I've tried to be perfect.  And it only ended up hurting people."

  We stood in silence as I shook my head sadly, looking away as I breathed deeply.  I had released a darkness, a secret that I've held close to my chest for so long, into the world.  Now someone knew about it.  Information is dangerous in other people's hands.  Though it was definitely better to spit it out than to keep it bottled up inside, I was hesitant and afraid of Skylar's reaction.

"Ok."

  I glanced up, confused at the woman's reaction.  Skylar was nodding slowly, an understanding smile on her face.  "That's ok, Frankie," she continued.  "We'll figure this out together.  Everything's alright."

  I blinked slowly.  "What?"

  Skylar laughed softly.  "Thanks...for telling me all of that.  I'm here to help you, you know, and for the past couple of months, I've felt like you were never open with me.  So thank you.  Now I know what's going on and I can help."

  I stumbled over my words, shocked by her reaction.  "You're not pissed?  About any of this?"

  "I mean, it was a little frustrating that you didn't tell me anything.  But it makes sense.  And I didn't expect anything different from you.  You're young, you have your entire life ahead of you, I was stupid to think you would never fall in love.  I'm just sorry that I didn't see the signs till now."

  "Oh...huh, I thought this would be a lot worse than it actually is," I joked, making both of us laugh.

--

  It had been almost a week since Paige and I had talked.  Though we had not had time to brainstorm a solution to my problems, Skylar and Avery had talked my situation over with the label and they had agreed to cancel a massive amount of my scheduled events to make room for plenty of time to work on my music.

  However, although the load for me to carry was significantly lighter than before, I still found myself drowning in questions internally.  I had spent sunsets and sunrises on the roof or in the backyard, staring up at the sky like somehow the clouds could paint out an answer to my troubles.

  I knew I had probably ruined everything I had with Caitlin, and I deeply regretted leaving in the first place.  I spilled endless rants to Luca when we should've been writing songs, sucking in sharp, irritated breaths, or shaking my head in disappointment.  I watched her games on my TV, and when I couldn't, I kept track on my phone.  I would mutter profanities under my breath when a hard foul was overlooked, or struggle to hold back a smile as the woman made another deep three.

  Luca had sent me a compilation of videos of the athlete missing open shots in recent matches.  He had pointed out how aggravated and frustrated she always was, something that bothered me.  I would watch the clips over and over again, see the burning anger in her eyes or the way her shoulders tensed when the refs didn't call something.  But more importantly, I saw the pure frustration when the ball didn't go into the net.

  I watched as she shook her head in disappointment and threw her towel onto her chair as she reached the sidelines.

  "Something's bothering her," Luca pointed out as we watched the second quarter one afternoon.  I had glanced over, looking at him curiously.  "That or she's just been pissed off for the last couple of games."

  "How do you know?" I asked curiously.

  "She's making shots she shouldn't take.  Wide ones at weird angles.  She's desperate to score.  Or she drives it in too aggressively and the shot isn't good.  Normally, she would pass out, she knows she can't beat 4 defenders by herself," the man had explained.  "But she's been playing like she hasn't had a bucket in weeks.  Something must be messing with her head or else she wouldn't be this naive."

  I had nodded silently that day, silently filing those details away in my mind.

--

  I got the text late afternoon, just an hour before sunset.  I had been reading outside in my small backyard, mostly daydreaming of escaping to live in Italy, per usual.  My phone had chimed as I was shutting the glass door behind me as I stepped back inside, and I glanced down at it in my hand.

hey man
i'm just chilling at home
wbu

i'm at a park
you wanna join?
pls 🥺

uhmmm
sure?
why are you at a park?

doesn't matter
rat has sent a location:

I found it odd when Aspen messaged me unexpectedly during the typical dinner hour on a Friday evening. Puzzled, I glanced up at the location she had specified, only to realize it was a small park in a peaceful neighborhood.

Reluctantly, I consented to join them, hastily gathering my skateboard, Airpods, and phone. Before leaving, I pressed play on the first track of my playlist and stepped out, securing the front door behind me. As I set out on my 15-minute journey through the winding and bustling streets of Lower Manhattan, the music streaming through my headphones set the perfect tone for the adventure ahead.

--

  The woman's back was turned as I approached the small caged basketball court, my skateboard grinding softly against the rough concrete sidewalk.  The court was made of dark asphalt, with white lines painted onto the ground to mark the boundaries and a pair of rusting, noisy basketball hoops, the net made of chain links.  A thin cage surrounded the court, and Iris stood at the entrance, watching two figures shoot wide shots at odd angles, laughing and chatting animatedly.

  I stopped a few feet away, stepping off the board and kicking it up for me to tuck underneath my arm as I watched the pair dance around each other, one laying in an easy bucket.

  I took a deep breath before stating softly, "I thought it was weird that you invited me here."  Aspen turned in surprise, her hands folded against her chest.  The blonde was wearing a white tank top and wide jeans tightened at the waist by a belt.  "I understand now."

  "I didn't think you would come," Aspen admitted, turning her body to face me with a friendly smile as I stepped closer.  "I thought, you know, you'd figure out what's up and leave me on read."

  "I wanted to, actually," I replied, tugging at the collar of my boxy t-shirt that was beginning to pull against my throat.  "Meet up."

  "I don't think it's me you wanted to see, right?"  I made a face, nodding slowly as my eyes drifted to the athletes on the court who seemed to be in their own world, focused on their 1 v 1 match.  "She's nervous.  To see you."

  "When did she fly in?" I asked, my eyes trained on the tall brunette as she made another deep three in the corner, her back facing us.

  "This morning.  She only has two days off before she has to fly back to Indiana for a game," Aspen reported, watching Caitlin and Paige playfully push each other around as the blonde defended the other girl.

  "I'm guessing Paige told you what I said," I assumed, shifting the skateboard underneath my arm.

  My friend shook her head.  "I mean, yeah, she did.  But...it's complicated."

  I was about to ask what she meant when I heard someone call my name.  Glancing to the side, I saw Paige waving aggressively from the middle of the basketball court, a large smile glowing on her face.  Beside her stood the woman I loved and admired so deeply but pushed away and hurt.  Way to go, Frankie.

  "You made it!" The blonde exclaimed as she jogged over to us, dragging Caitlin along with her.  I smiled tightly, my lips pressed together as I nodded.  "You know how to skateboard?  That's sick, dude!  Hey, could you teach me sometime?  I've always wanted to learn-"

  "Paige," Aspen interrupted, gently grabbing her girlfriend's arm and beginning to move away.  "Let's give them a second."

  We watched them walk away in silence, and I silently dug my nails into my palm, a nervous habit I had come to find soothing in stressful situations.  The pain cut through the blinding anxiety, grounding me in the present.

  "How are you?" I asked softly, immediately hitting myself mentally at such a stupid question.  Caitlin's eyes were focused on me, her face unreadable.

  "Uhm...tired," the woman answered truthfully, shifting awkwardly as she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her shorts.  She was wearing a Nike t-shirt and black shorts, her hair drawn back in a loose ponytail.  "Lots of games, practice.  How about you?"

  "I am...."  I breathed out heavily.  "Tired too..  And confused."

  "Yeah..."  We stood there awkwardly as I glanced around at the small park.  "It's been a while.  Since we've seen each other."

  I choked on a laugh, a cold, emotionless one.  "Yup."  I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I scrambled to say more.  "I make a pretty damn good villain for this love story, don't I?"

  Caitlin stayed silent as I looked around the quiet park.  Iris and Paige were nowhere to be seen, probably spying on us behind the bushes, out of sight.

  "I didn't mean to ghost you," I stated after a moment.  "I didn't mean to...I didn't want to leave either."

  "Frankie...I'm gonna be honest with you," the basketball player pronounced, looking at me.  "I get it.  Really, I do."

  "No, Caitlin -"

  "Seriously, Frankie-"

  "You don't have to-"

Caitlin's gentle touch silenced me as she leaned in to place a tender, lingering kiss on my lips. Her delicate fingertips softly cupped my cheek, and as she closed her eyes, her eyelashes fluttered like delicate wings. The deftness of her kiss skillfully diverted my attention, halting the argument that I had been on the verge of making. 

  I paused, my eyelids fluttering as I absorbed the unexpected sweetness of her actions. As I responded to her kiss, I felt a rush of emotions surging within me, each one clamoring to breach the barriers of my silence. My longing for her, the depth of my love, the bitterness over how our relationship had soured, and the overwhelming remorse for having left – all of these sentiments were woven into the gentle kiss.

  As we pulled away, the woman breathed out, "Let me win this argument.  I will argue with you over stupid matters for the rest of my life, but don't fight with me on this."  I swallowed hard as she gave me a loving smile.  "I understand, at least somewhat, what was at stake, the pressure you were under.  It's okay."

  "How?" It was a simple question really, but spoke waves of my confusion, curiosity, and intrigue.

  Caitlin shrugged, taking my hand in hers as she led me onto the basketball court.  "Your scary agent called me.  Two days ago.  She gave me a rundown on how you were holding up and she was concerned, to say the least.  Next thing you know, I'm on a plane to New York to talk to you."

  "Don't you have games?  Practice?" I asked, watching as the girl picked up a discarded ball and shot it, watching as it easily went in.  I placed my skateboard out of the way, and my Airpods were in my pocket.

  "Turns out my teammates are big fans of you and me, even though they haven't met you yet.  They were willing to jump Coach and hold her hostage if she didn't allow me to leave for two days," the brunette explained, grinning as she ran back with the ball she had retrieved.  "Seriously!"

  I gave her an incredulous look, biting back a smile.  "I'm surprised it was Skylar who reached out, honestly."  I took the ball from Caitlin's outstretched hand.  "What do you want me to do with this?"

  "Shoot it!  And why, Skylar's got something against calling your dates?" She asked, smirking as I scoffed.  "Come on, Frankie, shoot the ball.  You've got nothing to lose!"

  I bounced the ball off my hand, managing to dribble in place as I hummed.  "Skylar and I are good friends, don't get me wrong.  But she isn't the type to jump into action the moment something goes wrong in my love life.  Technically, that's not her job."

  "Really?  I thought agents care about your relationships and stuff."

  "They do, she does.  But, like, her job isn't to secretly call you and make a massive plan to get you to New York to talk to me.  Her job is getting you to sign NDAs and other agreements.  It's tedious, for sure," I explained.  "She's all business, and I think sometimes people see it as, like, selfishness.  Like she doesn't care about me or she's in it for the money.  But Sky's great at taking control of things, especially when she knows I can't do it.  She is strict, though."

  "And intimidating as fuck, dude," Caitlin added, watching me continue to dribble the basketball.  "Shoot it, shoot it."

  "I don't know how!" I exclaimed.

  "What about back in Iowa?  We all saw that amazing shot."

  "That was luck!"

  "I saw your form, you knew what you were doing, Frankie."

  "Hah!  So you admit you were watching my form," I stated proudly, grinning as Caitlin rolled her eyes, approaching me and easily grabbing the ball away from my hands.  "You were so checking me out!"

  "Who wouldn't, honestly?  I was so fucking into you, the moment you walked into the gym complaining about how hungry you were," the girl exclaimed, turning to shoot another shot up before turning around to look at me, her confident grin growing as she saw me blushing.  "I still am."

  "That's cute, Clark," I teased.  "By the way, you missed."

  "Nah, I don't miss," Caitlin responded, pulling me in by my waist as she tilted her head down for our noses to bump into each other.

  "You're confident, huh," I murmured jokingly, making her chuckle.

  "Never been more sure in my life," she mumbled, and I closed the small space between us to kiss the athlete lovingly.  I wrapped my arms around Caitlin's neck as she held onto my waist, keeping me close as I pulled away with a smile.

  "I don't care why you left and don't need to know either.  You have your problems and I have mine, and we have a whole lotta pressure riding on our shoulders.  So don't worry about this turning into something serious, alright?  I'm fine with whatever we are right now, and I'll fight for it," the