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The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of forced smiles and polite conversations. Wallace kept his distance, speaking only when necessary, but I could feel a shift in us with every glance he threw my way. By the end of the event, I was exhausted, but I had succeeded.

As we stepped outside, the chill of the air hit me, and the world seemed to shrink around us, the silence between Wallace, his parents, and me settling over the moment like a heavy fog. I could feel the drama just waiting to erupt between Thomas and Margaret, their unhappiness festering like an untended wound, ready to spill over. Wallace, on the other hand, clearly couldn't wait to escape his parents' shadow. His stiff posture betrayed the frustration he carried, his every step practically screaming for freedom.

To defuse the awkwardness, I decided to put on a show of kindness, pretending to care about helping clean up the venue with Wallace. Thomas fell for it easily, eager to see his son appear charitable for the press. As I kept an eye on him, I saw his disapproving glances toward Wallace, silent reminders of everything his son had done that hadn't met his standards.

Once his parents' car disappeared around the corner, I gave a subtle nod to Wallace. Without a word, he followed me toward the car I had requested earlier, knowing that I wanted to avoid being caught in their family drama.

Before I could enter the car, Wallace's hand suddenly shot out, holding my forearm. I froze, looking back at him, and saw the flicker of something in his eyes.

"Dinner?" he suggested, "I'm fucking hungry."

A small chuckle escaped me. The idea of having a meal together was met with a mutual grumble from our empty stomachs, a testament to the long hours spent at the event.

We agreed without a second thought, but the universe, as it often does, had other plans. The restaurant we pulled up to was packed, a line snaking out the door, and neither of us had the patience to wait.

So instead, we wandered aimlessly, eventually resorting to my hidden chocolate stash. I fished out the bar from my purse, a sly grin on my face as I offered it to him.

Wallace's expression shifted from surprise to amusement as he stared at the chocolate. 

"Really?" His eyebrows arched, as though I'd just revealed some secret magic trick.

I shrugged casually. "You'd be surprised how many things can be fixed with chocolate."

A soft laugh escaped him, and he broke off half the bar, handing me the rest with a smirk. 

"You never cease to surprise me," he muttered, popping the piece into his mouth.

We shared the small indulgence in silence for a moment before Wallace began walking toward the nearby beach, his pace relaxed but purposeful. I debated for a moment but eventually followed him, my feet moving on their own accord, drawn by the quiet.

The sun was beginning its descent, casting the sky in a soft wash of pinks and oranges. The horizon seemed to stretch endlessly, the colors melting together like a watercolor painting. The ocean breeze lifted the strands of my hair, its salty touch reminding me that I was still tethered to this world, to this moment. The soft crunch of sand beneath our shoes seemed to harmonize with the rhythm of the waves as they lazily rolled onto the shore.

Wallace led us to a secluded spot, where the world seemed to fall away. He stopped, pulling off his jacket and laying it on the sand like an offering.

"Here, sit," he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

I hesitated, but the peacefulness of the moment tugged at me, and I lowered myself onto the jacket. The air had turned cooler, the bite of the night settling in, but the warmth of his gesture lingered, unexpected and strangely comforting.

We sat in companionable silence and for once, there was no pressure, no expectations. I felt the urge to speak, to share something real, something beyond the surface.

The air, calm and patient, seemed to wait with me, ready to listen.

"You know," I began, "I always thought of the air as my secret friend." My voice was softer than I intended.

Wallace turned his head to look at me, his brow furrowing. "The air?"

I nodded, feeling an odd sense of peace in speaking this truth. 

"Yes. The air... it's the only thing that's always there, wherever I go. I can tell it anything. Even whisper the deepest secrets, and it will never betray me. It's constant and reliable. And the moment it leaves, well..." I trailed off, unable to finish, my thoughts catching in my throat.

For a second, I thought he might laugh or make a joke, but instead, his face grew serious, his eyes intense.

"Maybe that's fucking why you don't have any real fucking friends. Or anyone who loves you, for that matter." He exhaled sharply, the words cutting through the air like a blade. "You may look like a celebrity to everyone but to me you look fucking lonely. Even when you're surrounded by people. Just be fucking real. It saves everyone time."

I blinked at him. The warmth I had felt just moments ago began to falter, replaced by a prickle of anger. My gaze hardened, and I snapped back at him.

"I don't feel lonely okay? Whether I'm with everybody or alone. I've long learned to be alone."

Because not everyone will stay.

"And for your information, I don't need love from anyone else."

Wallace's eyes flashed with disbelief, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Oh, really? Do you even know what love is? I bet you don't."

I inhaled sharply, trying to steady my rising anger. Wallace always knew how to push my buttons, and he was pressing every single one of them tonight.

"Of course, I do. I feel it from my mother. She's the person I love most in this boring world."

Wallace's face twisted in disbelief. "For you, that's love?"

"Yes," I said firmly, the words tasting bitter. "It is."

"That's fucking sad," he said, shaking his head. "She's basically controlling your life."

"Shut up!" I snapped, my voice rising in frustration. "You don't know anything about me, Wallace. In fact, you don't seem to understand what love means in this world at all."

"Oh, please," he said, rolling his eyes. "Enlighten me, Miss Perfect Straight-A Student."

"Oh yeah? I was just about to." I leaned forward, finally letting the words spill out. "You see, kid, love is conditional. It must be earned through success and perfection."

Wallace stopped, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "You actually believe that?"

"Of course, I do." I crossed my arms tightly. "How else are you going to be worthy of receiving love and affection from other people? By rebelling like you? No. I believe that to be loved, I must constantly prove my worth through achievements, through success. I must never show weakness. Never vulnerability—"

"Stop," Wallace's voice cut through mine, raw and intense. "Just stop for a moment and think with your smart brain. That is not fucking love!"

"Whatever," I muttered, folding my arms defensively. I tried to look away, but his gaze pinned me in place.

"Look, Desiree," he said, softer now, but no less urgent. "Believe it or not, that's a fucking sad and twisted way of understanding love. Love isn't about being worthy or fucking perfect or achieving some stupid level of success." He seemed frustrated with himself, almost lost for words.

"God, I can't fucking believe I'm explaining this to you, but love... it's about those small, simple things. It's about people earning your heart through time, respect, and care. You don't just fucking give your heart away. No. But you don't have to be perfect to deserve love."

I stared at him, my mind racing, unsure whether I should be angry or..

"Yes," he continued. "When it comes to love, you need to be cautious. Your heart isn't something you give away to anyone who asks for it. But love, real love, isn't something you earn through being flawless. It's earned through trust, respect... and when someone sees all your flaws and still stays by your side. If you let anybody get in your garden, you're gonna be living in all kinds of creepy stuff. Just like my stupid mother." He stopped, seeming almost frustrated with his own words.

The ocean stretched before us, dark waves rippling in the soft moonlight. The wind tangled in my hair as I stared at Wallace, my mind racing. For a long moment, I couldn't say anything. But before I could form any thoughts, I burst out laughing, the tension in my chest finally breaking. It started as a soft chuckle, and before I knew it, I was shaking with giggles.

Wallace's eyes widened in confusion, his brows knitting together. "Why the fuck are you laughing?" His voice was sharp, his irritation unmistakable.

I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, still unable to stop laughing. "You basically just exaggerated what I said," I managed, breathing between fits of giggles. "Love is earned. That's all I said. You just threw in a bunch of flowery words."

Wallace's face twisted in annoyance. "Fuck no. You said love is conditional and must be earned through success—why are you fucking laughing?"

I raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle another giggle. "We're talking about love," I teased, "and you're going on about a garden."

"Because it's fucking related!" Wallace snapped back, his frustration growing as he tried to make sense of the mess he'd created. But the more he stumbled over his own words, the harder I laughed.

I held my hand up, as if signaling a time-out. "How so?"

When he couldn't form an answer, I lost it again, laughter bubbling out like a tidal wave. I could barely catch my breath.

"And that's why the best of the best friend is the air. Because humans are just—" I started again, my voice trailing off.

"Well, fuck yeah. That, I agree with," Wallace interrupted with a resigned sigh, shaking his head.

I couldn't help but smile at his defeat. "I didn't even finish what I was saying," I pointed out, half-amused, half-exasperated.

"I know what you were going to say next," he muttered, glancing at me sideways.

"What? You're not just a love expert, now you're a mind reader as well?" I raised an eyebrow, fighting back another laugh.

Wallace shot me an exaggerated eye roll, one so dramatic it made my laughter bubble back to the surface. The frustration on his face only made it worse. 

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled under his breath, but a tiny smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

And just like that, the weight between us evaporated. We both laughed like idiots, the tension that had clung to us all night fading with every burst of sound. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't have to fake anything.

The moon shimmered on the water, casting a soft glow over the sand. The rhythm of the waves was the only sound now, the night air cool against my skin.

After a moment, Wallace cleared his throat, his voice suddenly serious. I turned toward him, my laughter fading, replaced with quiet curiosity. He met my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I saw something raw there—genuine, almost fragile.

"What... happened earlier," he started, his voice faltering for a second. "Was it because of what I did yesterday?"

I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected shift in his tone.

He took a slow breath, his gaze steady now, but his words were laced with regret. 

"If... If what I did yesterday... made you upset—I want to apologize. I was a jerk—no, a fucking pathetic jerk. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accused you of something you clearly didn't do."

I wasn't expecting this. I wasn't expecting him to look so flustered. My heart twisted a little, not from anger, but from the vulnerability in his voice.

I just stared at him, unsure of what to say at first. When I finally spoke, my voice was softer than I intended. "It's... fine, Wallace. Really."

He stared at me, his brows knitting together, searching my face like he was trying to read the fine print of some complicated contract. "If it helps—even though I know it won't—you could curse me out if you want."

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips, despite myself. "No need. It's fine. I'm okay now."

Wallace studied me, like he was trying to peel back the layers, looking for any hint of lingering resentment. When he found none, his posture relaxed. A glimmer of relief crossed his face, but there was something else there too—an unspoken understanding that felt new between us.

I didn't even realize how much I needed an apology until he gave me one. There was a weight to it, but it was the kind of weight that set me free. I should've been angry, I should've been cautious, but instead, I felt something close to peace.

"Thank you," I said softly, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

Wallace nodded, but there was a reluctance to it, as if he still wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. He turned his gaze back to the ocean, his eyes lost in the dark expanse.

I wasn't done yet, though. The curiosity that had been gnawing at me finally won. 

"Uh... so, why did you even think I'd do something to the cat?" I asked, not even sure what I expected to hear.

Wallace hesitated, his eyes flickering with something like guilt before he spoke. "You know the guard at the gates, right?"

I nodded slowly, uncertain where this was going.

He sighed, his voice quiet. "I'm kind of close with him... not in a good way, but... anyway, I overheard him talking about a stray cat that used to hang around his post. Then yesterday, I saw him looking down, and he said the cat had died."

He met my eyes, regret flashing in his gaze. "And without asking, I assumed the worst. I thought it was you just because I saw you with it. I accused you without thinking."

The words hung between us, the silence heavy. "Did he say what happened to it?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.

Was it...No, it couldn't be her...right?

He shook his head. "No, but I'll find out. And I'll tell you when I do. You didn't do anything to the cat, so don't—don't blame yourself, okay? Just... blame me instead. Curse me all you want."

I couldn't help it. I laughed softly, the sound lighter than I expected. "Are you a masochist or something?"

"Tsk. Suit yourself." He shrugged, but there was a half-smile on his lips.

He looked down for a moment, then extended his hand toward me, palm up. "Give me your phone."

"What? Why?" I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious.

He rolled his eyes. "Just trust me, alright?"

"Why would I trust you?" I said but still reluctantly fished my phone from my purse and placed it in his hand.

His fingers flew over the screen, tapping quickly before he handed it back.

"There. My number's saved. Next time something like that happens..." His voice softened, and his gaze met mine, steady and sincere. "Call me. I don't care what time it is. Just call."

I glanced down at the contact he'd created.

Wallace😉 [Don't be shy]

I felt a strange warmth spread in my chest and nodded, though the thought of actually reaching out made me feel exposed. Vulnerable.

"Alright," I murmured, tucking my phone away. "But don't expect me to call every time."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh trust me, gurrrll, you won't be able to resist."

After a comforting silence settled between us, I found myself glancing over at him. A question lingered in the back of my mind, something I'd been meaning to say but had held back, uncertain of the timing. But with the quiet and sincerity hanging between us now, it felt right.

"You know..." I began softly, and he looked over at me, curious. "You have an incredible voice."

I bit my lip, hesitating, before I continued. "You should really consider becoming a singer."

A shadow of doubt flickered across his face, and he chuckled, though there was a tinge of sadness in it. 

"Yeah, well... my dad would probably lose his shit if I did that."

"Who cares what he thinks?" I replied, a little too quickly. "I'm serious, Wallace. If you really want it, there are ways to make it happen. You could audition—heck, sign a contract with Dream Catcher Entertainment. I'm pretty sure you'd have no trouble getting in."

He raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that was somewhere between amused and thoughtful. 

"You think so? You really think I could just... go for it?"

I nodded, my gaze steady. "Absolutely. And maybe it wouldn't be easy, but if it's something you're passionate about... then don't let anything hold you back."

For a moment, he just stared at me, as though searching for any hint of doubt in my words. Finding none, his expression softened, and a tentative smile played on his lips. 

"Thanks... Desiree. No one's really... encouraged me like that before."

"Then maybe it's about time someone did." 

I gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth settle between us, a connection I hadn't expected. We sat there, our words falling away as the night grew deeper. The sky was a blanket of ink above us, the stars twinkling like distant, forgotten promises. We drifted in and out of conversation, laughing over small jokes and teasing each other like old friends.

As the last of the light faded and the world settled into quiet, I felt something shift inside me. Something light and unburdened. For the first time, I wasn't hiding anything. Not from him, not from myself.

When we finally stood to leave, there was a stillness between us. A charged air that I couldn't ignore. It wasn't something we spoke about, but it was there—undeniable, unspoken.

And long after we'd walked away from the beach, I found myself replaying the moment over and over in my mind. The sound of his laugh, the warmth of the apology, the unexpected peace that settled in my chest.

☀༉‧

Hiii!!! 💖

Just a little reminder that I'm always reading your wonderful comments and soaking in every suggestion, so please don't hesitate to share your thoughts. I love hearing from you all! And if you're enjoying the story so far, that ⭐vote button is calling your name!

Sooo, are we finally catching a glimpse of a different side of Wallace... or Desiree? 💫 What do you think awaits them next?🧐

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