After a night of travel and a morning of catching up on sleep, Jensen spent her first day back in Vancouver watching the Rocky movies. Yes. Those movies because Hollywood was on her mind and it was annoying to her that Hollywood really meant Miles and she didn't know why she thought watching Rocky was going to stop that. Even though she wanted it to stop. Really, really wanted it to stop. Desperately wanted it to stop.

Hollywood had messed with her head.

Liberty taught Jensen's class for the day, even though she was home. She had informed Jensen that she had a Hollywood Hangover—patent pending Liberty Faith—and needed to rest. Liberty had brought home dinner for the two of them because she claimed she was sick to escape teaching college that night.

Sitting on their living room couch after devouring a dinner of burgers and fries with Liberty's head rested on her shoulder, Liberty asked the question Jensen had been dreading since the story published. "Can I ask about the Chinese restaurant date? Or is that a what happens in Hollywood stays in Hollywood type thing?"

Jensen drew in a deep breath. "It wasn't a date. For one thing. But you can ask."

Liberty pulled her lips to the side. "Are you okay?"

"People keep asking me that."

"That doesn't mean you have to be okay if you're not."

"I think it is what it is at this point," Jensen said. "I might not like it but I accept it."

Liberty nodded slowly. "If Hollywood Jensen wears off and Vancouver Jensen wants to talk about it, let me know."

"I will."

Liberty wedged her arm between the couch and Jensen's back to lean into her and wrap her arms around her. "And if you want to talk about the trial of the man you definitely uh huh of course don't like but you stayed two extra weeks for, you can do that too."

"I... don't," Jensen said. Liberty gave her a quick glance that read bullshit. "I don't."

"What did you spend the day doing?" Liberty asked.

"I watched movies."

"Which movies?"

Jensen crossed her arms. "None of your business movies."

Liberty raised an eyebrow and poked Jensen in the stomach. "Miles Fox movies?"

"No," Jensen said. "I watched Rocky. Leave me alone."

Jensen's phone buzzed as if on cue. Liberty and Jensen both exchanged looks and lunged for the phone on the coffee table. Shoving a shoulder into her best friend, Liberty gave an extra bit of reach toward the phone and grabbed it was Jensen was recovering from the blow.

"Libby, don't!" Jensen chided as she grabbed Liberty by the waist and tackled her to the ground.

"Does that say Miles Fox?" Liberty asked, groaning as she hit the ground. She started squirming away from Jensen's grip. Liberty let out a snort. "You guys are on emoji name level? Oh my God!"

"Liberty!"

As Liberty army crawled away from Jensen and found her footing, she started typing to unlock the phone. "Oh my God," she repeated, special emphasis always on the deity. "How could you not tell me you're in a send selfies over text kind of relationship with Miles Fox?"

Jensen groaned. "Stop!"

"And you texted him with your Canadian number, Jensen fucking Rhodes!"

"Please suffocate me."

"Dude," Liberty said, "you said you were watching Rocky? Like... Like Rocky Rocky?"

Jensen put her hands over her face and hoped if she pressed hard enough, she'd suffocate herself and Liberty might stop talking about it when she came to in the hospital. "Is there another Rocky?"

"Jensen," Liberty said, "you're so fucking whipped I can't believe you."

Jensen raised her hands. "What?"

Liberty crouched down beside her, quirking an eyebrow as she turned the phone towards Jensen. Jensen sat up and took the phone from her hand, her eyes meeting a photo of Dayna mid-laugh and Miles in the back modeling a fresh tattoo on his tricep. A fresh tattoo with roses at the base of Rocky Balboa's waist as he threw a fist in the air.

"Tell me again," Liberty said, "how you're not completely in love with Miles Fox. Please. Convince me. You fucking liar, you."

"I didn't—" Jensen started. "That was a joke."

"You have inside jokes now?" Liberty asked. "Interesting."

"We have inside jokes," Jensen said, "that doesn't mean we're dating."

"You aren't into women," Liberty said. "And our inside jokes aren't inked anywhere on either of us."

"You're so embarrassing."

"I'm just saying," Liberty said in a sing-song voice.

"You're suggesting," Jensen said. "And I need you to stop."

"Why?"

"Because that's not what's happening here. Okay?"

"Sure," Liberty said, holding her hands up in surrender. "Okay. Whatever you say, Hollywood."

"Liberty, please."

"Fine." Liberty poked Jensen in the arm. "Did you get me my keychain?"

*

As it turned out, Liberty's willingness to Jensen dissolved day two of her being home. That was proven by the wakeup call of a slap to the ass at the crack of dawn. Jensen groaned and buried herself further in the covers.

"No."

"I am not teaching those ungrateful little shits one more day."

"Just yesterday they were angels," Jensen said. "One more day."

"No can do, Jens," Liberty said. "You're lucky I even got up to wake you."

"Slapping me in the ass is not waking me."

"You're awake, aren't you?"

"Shit."

"Up and at 'em, Miss Rhodes," Liberty said. "Go teach those fucking kids some things."

"How much Pulp Fiction should I expect?" Jensen threw the covers off herself and stared up at the darkness that was her ceiling.

Liberty laughed. "So, so much. You're welcome in advance, babe."

Jensen groaned. "I don't want to go."

"Come on, Hollywood," Liberty said, "you can do it. Go take a shower."

With one last groan, Jensen got up and shuffled her way to the bathroom so she could shower. Liberty's laughter echoed down the hall as Jensen shut the door behind her. Before caffeination was a blur. There was a shower, a mess of attempting to blow dry her hair, a breakfast that might have been cereal but could've been oatmeal.

After her coffee, she had a semblance of a memory in which she drove to the school for the day. Her first block was teaching ninth graders who asked too many questions about acting but never actually did anything. Second block, Jensen was more awake than she had been all day. Which made it all the more painful when the questions not regarding the class were being asked.

"Miss Rhodes," a student said.

"What's up?" Jensen said, looking up from one of the scripts her senior directing students had written for the other students to act out. Looking at students over the rim of her reading glasses always made her feel like a judgemental librarian.

"Can we—" She looked over her shoulder to see a crowd of other students behind her. "Can we ask about Hollywood things?"

Jensen cleared her throat. "What do you want to know about? The audition process?"

"Tell us about Miles Fox!" one student yelled.

"Is he as awful as the magazines say he is?"

"What was the food like at Hoy's Wok?"

"Is it true that he went to rehab twice?"

"Um." Jensen took off her reading glasses. "What?"

"I want to know the tea," another student said. The group was slowly getting closer and with every step they were louder and Jensen felt like she couldn't think let alone begin to understand what she was being asked.

"The... the tea?" Jensen managed. She could hear her heartbeat pound in her ears.

"Can you tell us anything?" yet another student asked. "Or did you have to sign some kind of NDA because Miles is Miles Fox?"

"I—no."

"No you can't tell us anything or no you didn't have to sign an NDA?"

"Guys, you should really be working on your scenes."

"Did you kiss Miles Fox for a scene?"

"Or not for a scene?"

"Can we get back to work please?" Jensen asked, her breath short. She felt as if her composure was slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. Was she in her final minutes of holding herself together? Jensen looked at her phone to check the time and tried to ignore the text alert with the Fox emoji. "There's about ten minutes left. Can you give me your best?"

"I thought we could ask questions."

"About drama. Acting. Auditions. Scripts," Jensen said. Her voice sounded a lot less confident than she wanted it to. "Other people who I don't know are not part of asking questions."

"But there was the restaurant—"

"Can we get back to work? I want you guys to have these scenes perfected before next week's performances."

"Miss Rhodes—"

"Please?" Jensen asked. Not a suggestion. Not a hint. A full blown request she wished didn't sound like such a plea. "Give me a good five minutes of rehearsal and you guys can go early for lunch. No more questions."

A few disappointed looks were exchanged before the students went back to their groups for their mid-semester projects for after Halloween. Jensen leaned back in her chair and took a breath, the tension in her shoulders releasing despite her not knowing when it had built up.

She pushed the reading glasses up her nose and tried to pretend she was reading. What Jensen needed was for her breathing to slow down and for her heart to stop racing and for people to stop asking her about Miles Fox. Miles. Jensen knew him as Miles. Just Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles. Tabloids knew him as Miles Fox and Jensen was not a tabloid.

Jensen's eyes scanned the groups of the tenth graders who averted their eyes from her as soon as she made eye contact with them. Looking back at the script, Jensen considered taking back those thoughts. Maybe she was supposed to be a tabloid only for gossip. Was that what she was expected to do now? Gossip about people she barely knew but considered her friends? Did going to Hollywood and leaving mean she was the Vancouver socialite she never wanted to be?

Jensen dismissed them after three minutes. Because she wasn't sure she could focus on her work and they weren't even practicing and Jensen wasn't sure how much longer she could go without having a panic attack.

Rushing to her office with scripts in her arms, Jensen unlocked the door and went inside before any other faculty member could notice she'd let her class out early. As Jensen leaned against the closed door and let out a long breath, she nearly dropped everything she was holding when Liberty turned around in her desk chair and said, "You're early."

"Jesus," Jensen said, trying to adjust the papers in her arms before she lost them to the mess of her floor. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry for wanting to take my best friend for lunch when she's been away for almost three weeks."

"Who called the apartment?"

"What?"

Jensen dropped her papers on the already cluttered desk beside Liberty. "Who called the apartment?"

Jensen and Liberty didn't go for lunch. Not unless it was one of their birthdays. Or they both had the day off work. Lunches weren't how Liberty and Jensen worked.

Liberty fought a small smile. "Can we go to lunch and talk about it?"

"Uh." Jensen looked around at the piles of scripts—ones written by directing students, auditions that never came to fruition, and old Legendary episodes that Jensen didn't have the heart to throw away. She really needed to clean her office. "I—okay. Sure. Okay."

"Is something wrong?"

Jensen drew in a deep breath. "No."

"Something's wrong."

"It's just..." Jensen pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead and dragged it down her cheek. "There's been a lot of... questions. Ones I don't want to answer. About Miles. About tabloid garbage. And I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to talk about it."

"Who am I if I don't?"

"Who are you if you do?"

Jensen looked at Liberty—eyebrows knitting together and lips pressed against each other. Like she was a fighting a million quick breaths and a thousand quiet tears. Because who was she now? Who was Jensen with Hollywood under her belt?

"Jens," Liberty said, standing up from the chair. "You're under no obligation to please anyone but yourself. You know that, right?"

"I feel like—" Jensen's hands shook as she spoke. "I feel like everything's different."

"It is different," Liberty said. "But that doesn't mean it's bad."

"What am I supposed to do?" Jensen asked. "Liberty, I don't even know if I know the answers to the questions."

"You don't have to answer any."

"But I feel like I do."

"You don't." Liberty shook her head, hugging her tightly. "Never."

Jensen buried her head in Liberty's shoulder. "I don't want this to be my life. Being asked questions while they hope I let something slip that I wasn't supposed to. What the fuck kind of life is this?"

"Unfortunately, babe," Liberty said, "it's your life." Pulling away from her best friend, Liberty dug through the small bag she kept slung over her shoulder. Taking out a small orange bottle, she shook it a couple times and let the pills rattle around. "Here. You didn't take any this morning."

Jensen took the bottle from Liberty and opened it, pinching a pill between her fingers and dropping it in her mouth. She dry swallowed it before realizing Liberty had held a bottle of water out to her. "When did this become my life?"

"When you kicked ass at an audition in front of Academy Award nominee Keira Lim," Liberty said. "That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Lock me in my room next time I decide to do something stupid like go to Hollywood."

"No."

"Please," Jensen said. "Liberty, I can't even get through two blocks without the kids asking me what happened. They're fifteen and they know what that looked like. I don't want to do this."

"Babe," Liberty said, "you can't just swear off public life."

"Why not?"

"Because you were made for things in the outside world," Liberty said. "Let's go for lunch and you can relax a little bit before your last couple classes."

"Who called the apartment?"

"Come for lunch with me. I promise I'll tell you."

"I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this one, I think. Maybe," Liberty said, linking her arm with Jensen's and opening the office door. "Just relax a bit, okay?"

"That's easier said than done."

"Try your best, Jens." Liberty started walking and lightly pulling Jensen with her. "That's all I'm asking."

"Is it about the callback?" Jensen asked.

Liberty made a zipping motion on her lips, locking them and throwing away the key.

"Libby, please." Jensen knew they were likely going to the strip of fast food chains near the school, but the anticipation was going to make her combust.

"Lunch first."

"Anxiety high."

"Keira Lim."

"What?"

"Keira Lim—" Liberty pressed a button on her key fob to unlock her car. "—called the apartment."

Jensen gaped as Liberty walked around to the driver's side of her car. "You're not leaving me there, are you?"

"Lunch!" Liberty said, opening the door and getting in.

Jensen jumped in the passenger seat and stared at her best friend. "What is going on, Libby?"

Liberty grinned as she pulled out of the stall. "Halloween is this weekend."

"You better stop talking in code or I'm going to hit you."

Liberty rolled her eyes. In a monotone voice, she said, "Academy Award nominee Keira Lim called, inviting you and one other guest—one Liberty Faith who so kindly answered the phone for you—to her Hollywood Halloween party this weekend and the theme is, of course, films. Happy now? That was no fun."

"Wait," Jensen said. "A party? You told her I wasn't going, right?"

"Jens, it'll be fun!" Liberty slapped her hand against the steering wheel as if that narrated just how much fun they would have. Which she would have and Jensen wouldn't be parties were not Jensen's thing in Vancouver and they were definitely not going to be her thing in Hollywood.

"It'll be crowded and loud and it's a no from me."

"I bought plane tickets already." Liberty pouted. She was keeping her eyes on the road because she knew Jensen hated being driven by people who didn't look at the road. This was part of the begging, Jensen knew it for certain.

"I'm not going."

"Jensen."

"Liberty."

"Look, I'll be there and you can just hang out with me if you're nervous. It's going to be fun and it'll get you in Keira's good books for casting."

"Last time we went to a party you left me alone to flirt with the bartender."

"Because she was cute and that was once."

"The time before that you ditched me to go have car sex with some guy who kept buying you shots."

"He was cute too," Liberty said. "But that's all relative because this is Hollywood and everyone will be cute so when everyone's cute, no one's cute. And you're going and I promise I will be there to support you if you get intimidated by the party. I promise."

"No."

"I pinky promise with a cherry on top I will not ditch you for any cute human beings I may gaze upon without your express written consent." Liberty stuck her hand in Jensen's face while she was begging, clearly hoping Jensen would give into a pinky promise that was sure to go sideways. "Just please can we go to this party? Your Hollywood friends will be there, you'll get to see them again."

Jensen sighed. "You promise you won't ditch me?"

Liberty nodded vigorously. "I promise with every ounce of soul I have in me."

Jensen shook her head as she wrapped her pinky finger around Liberty's extended pinky finger. "You better not break this, Libby. I'm serious."

"I won't, I won't. I promise."

"You promised that time with the bartender too."