Memories by Conan Gray

I promise that the ending always stays the same, so there's no good reason in make believing that we could ever exist again, I can't be your friend, can't be your lover, can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love with somebody other than me. 

Grayson.

It's closing in on 4am when I receive the call. My arm wrapped around Beatrice's naked body. She's silent. I struggle to sleep enough as it is, but to sleep in silence only makes it worse. Paris used to snore, not enough that it was aggressive and loud, but enough that I could hear her beside me and know she was still with me. 

The short brown hairs of the girl beside me sprawl over the pillows. She just lays there unmoving, she stays in a little ball beside me. Paris would take up the entire bed like a starfish without even knowing it. I'd have to curl her up and hold her close when she slept so that I could fit on the bed.

The room is dark. I suggested last night that we leave the curtains open so we could make use of the perfect clear view of the Eiffel tower. Beatrice told me darkness was crucial for our circadian cycle. Paris always slept with a nightlight on because she was afraid of the dark. I could always see her face alit my a dim glow. 

Beatrice has a 12 step skin care routine which she insists on recording for her vlog channel every morning and night. You'd think people would get tired of watching her post the same videos every single day, but the upwards of six million people following her contradicts that.

I have to hand it to her though, she must be doing something right, given the fact that she's almost 34 and she's glowing. But nobody can glow as much as Paris did. I mean even without makeup she looked better than Beatrice does on her best days. 

I thought that having a rebound so different to my ex would help me get over her, but so far it's only made me pick out every difference between them and come to the conclusion yet again that Paris was the greatest thing I ever lost.

Beatrice Von Thalion and I started out as a more casual thing. It was rebound sex for me. It was an ordeal of convenience for me. But apparently for her, we were dating. 

So when she took the liberty of introducing herself to my family, it's safe to say I was as shocked as they were. I'm certain Libby had never seemed meaner, which is saying something. Of course, not to Beatrice, but to me. On Libs standards, 'mean' is staring daggers at me across the dinner table. But of course she was all smiles and polite hugs to my apparent girlfriend. 

Jameson was quiet, but I knew that from him, that was worse than any other reaction. Xander actually ridiculed me the second she left, telling me I was dating Nan's old classmate. Nash chimed in, telling me she was too old for even him.

Avery was probably most affected by my guest. She was clearly mad at me for introducing my 'girlfriend' to everyone only a couple months after P ended things. She bit her tongue though, refusing to talk to me. It was clearly a sisterly thing, because I'd never been more afraid of her and Libby.

The moment my shame sunk in deepest thought, was when Zara silently sipped her wine instead of even greeting the girl. 

But it was solidified, the French influencer and supermodel donning too much reconstructive surgery to count, was my girlfriend.

And since she had met my family — or what could hardly be called that these days, she wanted me to meet hers. And surprise surprise, where does her family live? Paris. Another remind of what I couldn't have.

What hurt more was seeing pretty much every single comment on our post together talking about Paris. I had to post on my story clarifying that Paris and I broke up mutually and that we're still friends. It was a lie. But it was necessary to salvage her reputation. It hurt to type that. It physically burned a hole through my heart to tell people that everything was fine between us. That we agreed to break up. It took everything in me to not mention the 20 second phone call where she dumped me without reason. To not mention Jameson and Avery's depiction of her bedroom at the time being 'stale and lifeless'. To not mention the fact that not only had I lost my girlfriend, but also my best friend.

I didn't realize how much I valued certain things in my relationship until I got with Beatrice. I like humour. Bea is about as funny as a brick wall. I valued integrity. Paris' morals were always good, and she could admit when she was wrong. Beatrice always insists she's right about absolutely everything, I'm certain she thinks it's a cute quirk. Being openly stupid is never great. And as much as I love being dominant in relationships, I hate to admit how much I miss Paris taking control in the relationship as much as I did. 

The pregnancy rumours started coming about last month. All the tabloids first saw us together and my hand just so happened to be placed on her stomach. They didn't actually think it at first until somebody started the rumour. In all honesty, I'm nearly a hundred percent sure it was Xander that started the rumour. He took this whole thing personally. He was angry for his friend, which was understandable. 

I just prayed that Paris would never see the whole thing. I get the impression she isn't doing well right now, so for her to see the comments might actually be the straw that breaks the camels back.

I stretch across my girlfriend's body to seise the vibrations of my phone. It rang once and I decided to allow it the chance to ring out but now it's buzzing again.

Jameson's name flashes across my screen. I don't hesitate to pick up, whispering a quick greeting. It's met by a cacophony of yelling and frustration. 

"Shit he picked up." I hear my brother say, raising the phone to his ear.

"She's off the fucking rails." He tells me briefly. "Wonderful. Who?" I cock a brow, unsure what he's even referring to, but based purely off his tone I'm guessing I should head into the bathroom. 

Once the door is shut I sit down on the edge of the bath, sliding on some underwear and running a hand through my messed up hair.

"Paris. She's got yet another sex tape spiralling. She's seriously trying to give Kim Kardashian a run for her money." My brother scoffs humourlessly.

My heart palpitates. "They found that video of us?" I ask breathily. I'm met by silence. "No- but we're coming back to that." I can practically see Jameson's sceptical look.

"Wait it isn't me?" I question. "No. It's some other guy. But the fact that.. you know what, never mind." He trails off with a sigh.

"Is it.. recent?" I find myself asking, almost more scared than I was at the prospect of it being our tape. "Try thirty minutes ago." Jameson scoffs.

"Fuck." I hiss. It shouldn't hurt so much that she's moved on, I have too. But the stiffness that overtakes my whole body is daunting.

My phone pings mid call and I look down. "Jameson, why on earth would you send it to me?" I snarl. I can hear Avery scowling from over the phone. "Look, just watch it. Not in a perverted way. You can see her look at the camera and not even falter. It's like she wanted to get caught." 

I sigh as I open the video, keeping my brother on the call as I hit play. I actually flinch when I see her. She's frail and her eyes look lifeless. As someone verging on insomnia, I am qualified to say this girl has not slept in months.

She's being fucked against a sink by some frat guy, his face buried in her tits — which isn't really much given the weight she's lost. I recognise the bathroom. I've been to a party there before, some Harvard guys place. I try to sneak a glance at the guy, but he's too busy kissing her to show face. 

I wince at the overly dramatic groans and moans. If it was genuine, I'd probably be struggling not to get hard, but as someone who's seen her cum face, and heard her feral moans and screams, I can tell she's overdoing it. 

That's when she clocks the cameras. She doesn't falter or stop. She just makes her moans louder. It's only when her roommate's voice is heard scolding the guys crowding the door that the video ends.

I sigh. It could've been worse. It's worse than the audio of us that was leaked fucking at that football game. But it's not as bad as the video of some guy taking her bra off when she was still 16. We can deal with this. We just need to remove all traces of the video from the public eye, and wait for the next celebrity scandal to roll in to cover this. 

"I think she did it to get back at you for moving on." Jameson observes. "And I think she has free will. I don't think she'd go through the efforts of having sex with some guy, making a sex tape and letting it go viral, just to get back at me."

It was a total lie. She was so messy that she actually would do that. I'm surprised she wasn't naked in the video. A full body sex tape would've been just enough to fully humiliate her future children, but also get to me just enough to make me fly home from France just to make her get her shit together. But thankfully she was kept her dress on. Which is how I know I shouldn't be too worried. 

That is until I receive another call. I went back to bed, not getting a minute of sleep until the next call. 7am. 

I pick up my phone, expecting Jameson again. I see the name Paris flash over me and my heart seems to take it upon itself to stop working. It's embarrassing how quickly I jump to my feet, literally tossing my girlfriend off of me and jogging to the balcony. I couldn't run the risk of Beatrice waking up and hearing me talk to my ex in her bathroom. 

I hit answer, not saying anything on the off chance she butt dialled me just so I can hear something.

When she speaks up I let myself breathe. But then my heart cracks when I hear the familiar sound of her sobs.

(a/n. Beatrice and Grayson are Nara Smith and Lucky Blue Smith. Prove me wrong. I hadn't noticed until I wrote it, but they just are. Except imagine Nara like 13 years into the future. How do we feel about her? I missed writing as Grayson, it's good to be back. Hope you guys enjoyed. It's 2:40am and I stayed up to write this whole chapter even though I have a test tomorrow at 8am. Pray for me you guys..)