I take a bite of some toast. The butter feels slick against my tongue, but I force myself to swallow it anyway. The humiliation from yesterday's press conference is still fresh. I've read articles upon articles about it. Some were speculating about Andrew, others were basically making fun of me. I don't think it's great for my mental health to be reading that shit, but I couldn't care less. The need to know what people think of me is overwhelming. It always has been.

Footsteps snap me from my thoughts and Mom enters the room, sweat trickling down her forehead. "Hello, Mom," I say slowly.

"Hi, Scarlett," Mom says, her voice just a tinge bitter. I almost wince. "The Fun in The Sun Festival is today," Mom tells me.

"I know," I say. Fun in The Sun is Oceancove's annual summer festival. It's one of the biggest fundraisers of the year. So it's kind of a big deal. I'd usually attend, but this year, I think it would be better to lay low. I'm tired of causing problems.

"You and Ezra should go," Mom says, pouring herself a glass of water. She chugs it in a few gulps.

I shake my head. "I should just lay low. Let this whole situation surpass."

"You should go," a voice says, and I'm met with Jasper's cool gaze. Ugh. "You need to appear normal. Making a public appearance with Ezra is a good idea." I refrain from rolling my eyes, forcing another piece of toast down my throat. "We can frame you as a young girl who made a mistake and is happy to have another chance with her son."

My eyes meet Jasper's and he arches an eyebrow at me, waiting for something of a response. "If you're suggesting that we use Ezra, then I'm going to have to politely ask you to—"

"Good morning," Erza interrupts, meeting my eyes. He pauses, darting a glance at Mom, then Jasper. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Jasper says quickly, flashing Ezra a quick smile. For a second, Erza looks unsettled. He walks towards the fridge grabbing the orange juice. It's almost strange to watch. He looks so... at home. Like he's grabbed something from that fridge a million times before. It almost feels surreal. "How would you feel about going to a fair today?" Jasper asks, leaning his forearms on the counters.

Ezra pauses, grabbing a glass. He pours himself some orange juice and studies Jasper carefully. "I guess that would be fun," Ezra says with a shrug.

"Great. We'll leave at 5:30 sharp," Jasper says, glancing at his watch.

Ezra nods, taking a sip of his orange juice. Jasper nods crisply. He shoots me a small, barely noticeable smile. It takes every ounce of self-restraint in me not to flip him off in return.

. . .

I smooth out my shirt and jeans, checking my reflection for the third time. I'm not used to dressing so casual. It took me almost a half hour to construct this outfit. All that time for a white blouse and some jeans. Still studying my reflection, Jasper joins my side in the mirror, adjusting his cherry red tie. His eyes meet mine in the reflection. I begin to turn away when Jasper speaks, "I know you don't like me."

"Pardon?" I say, my eyes slightly wide. Am I really that obvious?

"I know you don't like me," Jasper says, and he smiles crookedly at me. Something of a mocking smile, I think.

Now, I could play dumb. But Jasper seems to already understand exactly how I feel towards him. "You're kind of an asshole," I say with a shrug. Jasper doesn't even flinch at my honesty.

"I know I'm an asshole. But I get results," Jasper says lightly, "So stop arguing with me on everything, yeah? I know what I'm doing."

"We'll see," I say. My response somehow draws a laugh from Jasper's lips, which almost makes me flinch. He looks at me, that same crooked smile playing on his mouth. He runs a hand through his dark hair, shoving his other hand into his dress pants pocket.

"I'm good at my job, Miss Revaz," he says sharply. "I'm sure that will be showcased soon enough."

"We'll see," I repeat. Jasper simply shakes his head in amusement. There's a glint in his eyes. As if he enjoys my skepticism.

"I'm ready," Ezra says, descending down the stairs. I paste on a thin smile, turning away from Jasper.

"You look great! Let's go! We're already running late," I say, smoothing out my blouse once more for good measure. I open the front door, motioning to the car that's parked in the driveway. Inside is the new driver I hired after Orion quit. It took doubling the pay for anyone to agree to work for me again. My mouth is dry at the amount of money I'm losing because of this scandal.

It's almost as if having a kid at sixteen ruins your life.

Really makes you think, huh?

I step outside, already beginning to sweat. Don't get me wrong, I love California, but it's too hot here. Jasper, who's in a suit, will surely suffer today. The thought almost brings a smile to my lips. Shaking my thoughts away, I open the passenger door of my SUV, squinting past the sun.

Jasper slides in first, looking almost relieved to be in the air conditioner. Ezra is more hesitant to slide inside. "Are both these cars yours?" Ezra asks, motioning to the SUV, then the Range Rover beside it.

"Yes," I say slowly. "Why? Is something wrong?"

He stares at the cars for a few seconds, then the house. "You've got a lot of money," he says. It's a remark, not a question. So in response, I nod. "Okay," Ezra says, as if mentally noting that I have a lot of money. He then slides into the car, a row behind Jasper. I slide in a seat away from Jasper, fluffing out my dark brown hair. A familiar sense of insecurity that began in my teen years washes over me. I feel so unprofessional—so exposed—in these clothes.

"What do you plan to say to the press, Miss Revaz?" Jasper asks suddenly. I face him, absently drawing circles on my thigh.

"I'm not sure," I say slowly.

"Well, lucky for you, I already know what you're going to say," Jasper says, flashing me a tight-lipped smile. Again, I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. "Just say: I'm grateful to be here with my son and have the opportunity to get to know him more. Please respect my privacy at this time." Jasper says the words slowly, dragging out each syllable. As if I'm a disobedient puppy.

"Could you repeat that? I'm having trouble understanding," I say sarcastically, biting back a scowl.

"That was sarcastic," Jasper says slowly. There's almost a confused edge to his voice.

"Of course it was," I say, eyes narrowed.

"Just do as I say, Revaz," Jasper says, facing the window. This time, I do roll my eyes.

. . .

Before we even pull up to the park, there's the distinct flash of cameras. I brace myself, mentally rehearsing what Jasper told me to say. "Damn," Ezra mutters behind me, and Jasper turns in his seat to face Ezra.

"Don't say anything to anyone," Jasper instructs, a lot kinder than he is with me. It irritates me a little. "The last thing we need is more rumors."

"I know," Ezra says, a humorous edge to his voice. "I'm not stupid."

"I'll be the judge of that," Jasper replies, unstrapping himself. He glances at me before stepping out of the car, adjusting his dark dress coat. He nods at some reporters and waves a little, motioning me out of the car. I step out, pasting my 'Picture Smile' on my lips.

Questions are hurled at me. I ignore them, focusing on helping Ezra out of the car. He steps out beside me, running a hand through his light brown curls. He glances at the cameras, his eyes slightly widened. It makes him look a little more vulnerable than usual. Much less like his father, too. It gives me a little rush of confidence... not seeing so much of Andrew in him.

"Just be natural," Jasper mutters, shutting the car door. We begin to walk up to the entrance of the park—right into the eye of the storm. Reporters ask questions. Not just directed at me, but at Ezra and Jasper too. They ignore them, following my lead forward.

As I reach the entrance of the park, I spin on my heel, facing the cameras. I clear my throat and an eerie silence falls upon the crowd. "I'm grateful to be here with my son and have the opportunity to get to know him more. Please respect my privacy at this time," I say, my voice carrying across the park. To my surprise, there's silence after I say that. "Enjoy the festival, everyone! It's for a good cause." I flash a smile and turn back around, starting towards the tents full of food and carnival games.

"Well done," Jasper says quietly. So quiet, I almost miss it. I can't bring myself to respond. We approach the nearest tent, which is one of those basketball carnival games. The ones where the hoop is too small to fit the ball properly. Despite this game being disgustingly rigged, I step up, fishing cash out of my wallet.

"Wanna play?" I ask Ezra, who shrugs and nods.

"Sure," he says, stepping beside me. I hand the referee ten dollars. Two minutes to make as many shots as possible with the basketball for both Ezra and I. "Care to make things interesting?" Ezra asks, and I arch an eyebrow at him.

"Are you asking to place a bet?" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Ezra grins and shoves his hands into his pockets, scuffing his sneaker against the pavement.

"Yeah. How about twenty bucks on whoever wins?" Ezra suggests, thrusting his chin towards the scoreboard. I look back at it, studying the hoops with interest. After a few seconds, I shrug.

"Okay," I agree, turning towards the game. I grab the nearest basketball, weighing it in my hands. "But I must warn you, I'm very good at carnival games. Actually, I've been training for this moment since I was a kid," I say with a wry grin.

"Get ready to be humbled, Scarlett," Ezra replies, practicing his wrist flick. He said my name. I realize that Ezra just said my name for the first time ever. It makes me feel warm and maybe even a little giddy. Maybe he's warming up to me.

"Okay," the referee says, handing Ezra one of three basketballs. "Ready..." he trails off, clicking a button to his right. The button resets the scoreboard, making the glowing orange numbers reset to zero. "Set..." the referee continues, moving off to the side so he won't get hit. "Go."

Ezra begins right away, throwing his first basketball forward. It hits the rim of the hoop, landing in the safety net below with a swoosh. I turn to my own hoop, tossing the ball. Surprisingly, the toss isn't too inaccurate. Mine hits the backboard of the hoop, landing in the same net as Ezra's did. I smile proudly, which is stupid, because I didn't even make it into the hoop, but I'm still proud of myself for getting it close.

I throw my second basketball, which actually makes it into the hoop. Squealing, I grin at a scowling Ezra. "I'm just too talented," I tell him with an elegant little shrug. Ezra mutters something under his breath and shoots another basketball, missing again. I can't help but chuckle a little bit. I focus on making more shots, but miss those miserably.

"You guys are terrible," a voice behind me says. I look at Jasper, who shakes his head. I snort. It's not exactly attractive, but I don't really care.

"As if you could do better," I say.

"Oh, watch me," Jasper says, and he holds his hands out for the basketball. I toss one to him and step aside, curious and a little amused. For a second, I forget that I hate Jasper as I watch him step in front of the hoop, weighing the ball in both hands. He positions his arms over his head, then shoots the basketball. It flies through the air and swishes into the hoop. My eyes widen, as do Ezra's. Jasper adjusts his tie, turning towards me with something of an amused expression. "I played basketball in high school," he explains.

I roll my eyes as the timer goes off, showcasing the final score. 2-0. "Showoff," I tell Jasper.

"If I'm a showoff, what do you call what you were doing to Ezra moments ago?" Jasper asks, brushing a stray hair away from his grayish-blue eyes. Grayish-blue. Hm.

"Being competitive," I reply, and Jasper's lips quirk up into something of a smile. He opens his mouth to reply, but his words are interrupted by a woman stepping in front of him. His eyes widen slightly and the small look of amusement on his face disappears.

"Avery," Jasper says, eyebrows raised. "What are you doing here?"

"What? Are you not happy to see me?" The woman—Avery—asks. She pouts, wiping away a non-existent tear.

"Of course not," Jasper says quickly. He leans forward, hugging the woman. She mutters something in his ear, to which he replies, "Me too." Jasper, who notices me staring, clears his throat. "Miss Revaz, this is my fiancée, Avery."

"It's nice to meet you, Avery. I'm Scarlett Revaz," I say with a polite smile that masks my shock. I extend my hand towards the woman, who shakes mine gingerly. She smiles at me and I have to force myself to look away. The last thing I expected was for Jasper to be in a relationship, let alone have a beautiful fiancée.

From Avery's big green eyes to her silky brown hair, she's gorgeous. I find myself envying her just a little. How can someone look so impossibly perfect? It's like she has a filter on.

"I know. Jasper told me about you," she says with a grin. "You're also kind of a global sensation."

I chuckle awkwardly. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you," Avery says, wrapping her arm around Jasper's waist. Ew. Who would actually agree to marry Jasper Dalton? It's a little petty of me to ask myself that, but he's the most awful person I've ever met. And I've met plenty of awful people.

"How about you and Ezra play a few more games, Miss Revaz? If you'll excuse me for a few minutes, that is," Jasper says, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"Yes, right. Of course," I say, turning my attention to Ezra, who watches this exchange with an amused slash curious expression. "You owe me twenty bucks."

He rolls his brown eyes. "You cheated," he tells me.

"Nobody likes a sore loser, Ezra," I say, barely able to suppress my grin. "Come on. Best two out of three." Ezra nods and we begin to walk in the general direction of more tents. We're pretty silent, which I don't mind. I'm still stuck on the fact that Jasper is marrying such a beautiful woman. It perplexes me a little bit, if I'm being totally honest. My thoughts are racing and I'm kind of desperate to escape them.

"Tell me more about your family," I say to Ezra, who shrugs a little in response.

"Eliza and Emma—the twins—are both getting their degrees in business. Ella doesn't really have a plan. She's a dancer and wants to pursue that, which my parents are cool with," Ezra says slowly, closing his eyes briefly. As if he's picturing each of their faces. I'm sure he misses them... he seems to love his family a lot. It almost makes me feel a little lonely.

"Business school is a good choice. You can make a lot of money. I have a business degree," I say, and Ezra nods slowly.

"It's a good path forward," he agrees, his eyes briefly flicking up to the orangish-pink sky. It's already begun to cool down for the evening, despite us being here for all of five minutes. That's why California is bearable. It's only hot for a few hours everyday, then it cools down and is perfect.

"What kind of dance does Ella do?" I ask, wanting the conversation to continue.

"Ballet. She's really good. Been dancing since she was a kid," Ezra says, and he smiles proudly. My heart warms a little.

"You love your family a lot," I say softly.

"I really, really do," Ezra says, and he stops in tracks, looking up at the sky again. I take this pause to study Ezra for a moment. I have to remind myself to breathe every now and again. From his messy curls to his sharp jawline, he's a carbon copy of his father. "You would like them," Ezra says, his eyes flicking towards me. "They would like you too."

"You're lucky," I say, my eyes fluttering closed briefly. "To have a family who you love so much."

Ezra's brow furrows. "Don't you have a mom and a sister? They're always at the house." I pause and a sad smile crosses my lips. It takes a moment, but what I meant clicks in Ezra's head. "Oh." There's an awkward silence. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I say quickly, a light blush washing over my face. I'm sure I sound ungrateful for my family.

Trust me, I'm not ungrateful for them. I love them. Of course I do. They're my blood, after all.

"Want to get a coffee? It'll be cold soon," Ezra suggests, breaking the awkwardness. I simply nod in response. We walk towards the nearest tent, which smells of freshly ground coffee beans. Before we even get in line, my mouth is watering. "My parents don't let me have caffeine much," Ezra tells me.

"Oh," I say, mustering a small smile. "Should I be letting you have coffee?"

"Probably not," Ezra says. "But my parents aren't here. And they don't even have to know."

"Our little secret then?" I say as we move up in line. A lazy grin crosses Ezra's lips and the world around me suddenly spins. Andrew. It's Andrew. In the background, an order is called out. The voice is too similar to the one that haunted—haunts—my dreams.

The memory pushes forward so suddenly, I can't fight it.

"Caramel latte with extra whipped cream," the barista said with a grin. He handed me my drink. "See you tomorrow, darling." My cheeks burned bright red as I spun on my heel, quickly exiting the coffee shop I went to every morning. The one that the really cute barista worked at. The same barista who always called me 'darling' and constantly flirted with me.

I took a sip of my cold drink, trying to control the butterflies that erupted in my stomach. I never was good with compliments or flirting. I always got flustered and could barely speak.

I began my walk to school, replaying the grin on the barista's lips. He was cute. Like, really cute. He had light brown curls and brown eyes that reminded me of chocolate. Not to mention his smile was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen.

I was stopping at the crosswalk when I felt a presence behind me. "You left in such a rush, darling," a voice said. My eyes met the cute barista's, who held my backpack in his left hand. My cheeks burned red and I chewed my bottom lip. "You forgot this."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry."

The barista handed me my backpack and he leaned dangerously close to me. He smelled of fresh ground coffee and caramel. It made me feel faint. "You're really cute," he said to me. I choked on air and almost dropped my backpack.

"Thank you," I said softly, speaking past the golf ball that seemingly got lodged in my throat. I hoisted my backpack over my shoulders, keeping my deep flush hidden.

"Read your cup," the barista said. My brow furrowed. My cup?

Oh, right. My coffee.

On the side of the cup sat a message sprawled in messy handwriting. There was a phone number and CALL ME written above it. My eyes met the baristas, who adjusted his brown apron.

"I don't even know your name," I said, my voice quiet. Almost inaudible.

"I'm Andrew," the barista said. He flashed me another one of his swoon-worthy grins. "Andrew Conan."

"I'm Scarlett," I told him. He extends his hand towards me. With some hesitation, I shook his hand.

"Call me, Scarlett," he said. I loved the way my name rolled off his tongue.

"Okay," I said shyly.

"See you tomorrow, darling," Andrew said. He winked at me and spun on his heel, disappearing down the street.

What in the world just happened?

My eyes snap open and I'm forced back into the present. "You okay?" Ezra asks, his hand on my arm awkwardly.

"Yes," I say quickly. "I'm fine." Fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. "You know what? I don't want coffee. You go ahead and order something. Meet me at the games. Best two out of three." Ezra nods quickly, moving up in line.

"I'm going to destroy you, Scarlett," Ezra says with a playful glint in his eye.

"I'd like to see you try, Ezra."

. . .

I reluctantly give Ezra forty dollars. "I told you so," Ezra says with a cocky grin.

"Haha," I grumble.

"'Nobody likes a sore loser, Scarlett'," Ezra mocks, fanning himself with his cash. I roll my eyes, turning away to disguise a smile. My new driver, Douglas, begins to drive. Jasper went back to Avery's hotel. Fingers crossed he'll leave my house and stay with her instead. That would make this entire arrangement we have much more manageable. "I had a really good time today," Ezra says suddenly, breaking the silence.

His words surprise me. Again, a warm feeling finds its way to my stomach. "I did too, Ezra," I say softly. I hesitate for a moment, then speak. "I'm glad you are here."

"I'm glad I came," Ezra replies and I can't help but smile. Someone who's actually glad to know me. It's a strange feeling... being wanted.

We're silent for the rest of the night. Ezra said goodnight and went up to his room. I'm not too tired yet, so I slide off my sneakers and grab myself a glass of wine. An odd feeling of deja vu washes over me. A week and a half ago, I was in this same position. Except now, Ezra isn't on my doorstep. He's in his bedroom, preparing for bed.

I smile into my wine glass, taking another sip. I dig through my junk drawer, pulling out a hair tie. Putting my hair into a ponytail and balancing my glass in the other hand, I start my way upstairs, ready for a peaceful night.

Well, that is until Jasper appears out of nowhere. "Gah!" I shout, dropping my glass of wine. It shatters at his feet, leaving a puddle filled with carbonation bubbles. "Shit," I mutter, crouching down to pick up the larger pieces of glass.

"Have you checked Twitter?" Jasper asks, not bothering to help me clean the mess he caused. Not bothering to apologize, either.

"I just got home," I reply, traveling to the kitchen with a handful of glass. I drop the shards of glass into the recycle bin, inspecting my palms for cuts. My eyes float up to Jasper, who stands in front of the puddle of wine, watching me with a keen eye. "So that's a no."

"Everyone is talking about you," Jasper replies.

"They've been talking about me for almost two weeks," I reply.

"In a good way," Jasper clarifies. My entire body lights up with hope, and I think Jasper sees it. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls for a moment, then he strolls towards me (stepping over the puddle) and slides the phone across the counter. Pictures of Ezra and I playing carnival games light up the page. For the first time in a while, people actually have good things to say about me.

Eyes wide, I look up at Jasper. "My polling..?"

"Went from one percent to five percent." Jasper confirms my thought.

I inhale sharply. It's only a four percent rise, but goddamnit, it's progress. All of a sudden, this entire ordeal feels manageable. Maybe I can win back everyone's affection. Maybe there's even a chance I can still become mayor.

"I was right," Jasper says sharply, snapping me back to reality. "See what happens when you listen to me?"

Begrudgingly, I exhale. "You were right," I say weakly. "I'm sorry I questioned you."

A satisfied smile crosses Jasper's lips. "Good. Now rest up. Our next move is critical, Miss Revaz."

I nod crisply.

I may not like Jasper Dalton... but he's getting me results.

***

My first flashback scene! Let me know how I did!

As always, make sure to comment your thoughts and vote on this chapter! <3