This story will make you the next best thing in all things journalism. The words echoed over and over again in my head.

There seemed to be only one decision. Don't write the article. But I was here. I had the source right in front of me. All that I had learned about Violetta in the last few days...

No, I couldn't. I shouldn't.

Should I?

I flipped over on my stomach and opened up a fresh note on my tablet. Where to even begin?

The blank screen mocked me as the cursor blinked on the page. I took a deep breath and began to type out as many notes as I could muster up based on the two-day whirlwind I'd had with Violetta.

Before I knew it, she was texting me that she was on her way back up to the room if I wanted to go get dinner. I slipped the tablet under my pillow and rolled off the bed as she knocked on the doorframe between our rooms.

Despite the fact that we were using just mine, I appreciated how she respected my privacy and continued to key into her own room first.

"I'm back," she announced.

"How was the rest of the shoot?"

Violetta shrugged. "The usual. But I'm probably going to have to take three showers just to get rid of the hair gel and ax body spray."

I laughed.

"Ah, the things we do for our job, amiright?" she teased with a wink.

My laugh faded into a whimper that I discreetly covered with a cough. If only she knew...no, if she knew, she'd never speak to me again.

"Anyway," she continued, completely oblivious to my pain, "I'm gonna go wash this stuff off and then we can head out to our next adventure. What do you say?"

I grinned. "That would be fantastic."

She walked to her room then came back with a caboodle of makeup products and cleansers. Violetta took out a bottle filled with clear liquid then carefully coated it on a soft cloth before sliding the cloth over her face. I watched, mesmerized, as the layers of porcelain-colored foundation disappeared to reveal creases and blemishes.

Revealing that beneath the surface, she was just like the rest of us. Her flaws made her who she was.

"Let me?" I asked, taking the cloth from her fingers. She closed her eyes, and I brushed her hair back from her face as my hand swiped across her skin, uncovering her natural beauty.

She sighed what I hoped was a happy sigh. We sat there together on the floor until she was fully undone from her full face of makeup.

"You're beautiful," I murmured, heat pinching my cheeks. "I-I'm sorry, that just sort of came out of nowhere."

"No, it's okay." Violetta smiled at me. "Thank you. No one has really said that to me before when I'm not decked out in all my glamor."

"You don't need it." I bit my lip. "The makeup, you're so naturally pretty, and I know that's probably the last thing you need or want to hear right now but—"

"Rea." Violetta pressed a finger to my lips. "It's okay, really. I appreciate the compliment. I have the next idea in mind if you want to continue our day of spontaneity?"

I nodded, keeping my lips clamped shut.

"Good. Follow me." Violetta led me out of the hotel room, but not without first donning a pair of sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat like yesterday.

"Wait, Vi!" I took the sunglasses off of her face. "You don't need those."

She sighed. "But if I don't, people will talk."

"Then let them. People will talk no matter what, that's something I've learned in all my years of journalism." I removed her hat too. "And you deserve to be seen by the world."

The streets of Asheville were quieter than they'd been last night for the bonfire, which meant it was much easier for us to make our way to Violetta's surprise destination.

It was a small meeting space, but there were 20 cooktops throughout the room accompanied by a group of ordinary people who mingled about in aprons. But unlike earlier, I had a feeling the stains on them were from meat sauce and flour instead of clay and pottery glaze.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" a woman at the front wearing a chef's hat—someone in charge—greeted us through a microphone headset. "I see some fresh faces amongst our veterans, so I look forward to working with each of you tonight. At tonight's cooking class, we will be making Chinese dumplings. You should find options for fillings at each station and ingredients for the dough. I'll be walking around to help. So, let's get started!"

Dishes clanged. Voices murmured. Steam hissed.

Rolling out the dough seemed like it would be the hardest part and it probably would've, had we not just spent the morning doing the exact same kneading with clay.

"You're really getting the hang of that," Violetta commented, bumping me with her hip.

I grinned. "We all have our skill sets," I said. For the next bit of time, we cooked up the meat and veggie fillings. The aromas of pork, chicken, and celery wafted around the room. When the fillings were all prepared, we settled back with the dough which was now ready to be turned into dumplings.

We each took a spoonful of meat and veggies, distributing it carefully into a small, round piece of dough. Then we carefully lifted up the sides of the dough, bringing them together and pinching to perfection.

Violetta frowned, a crease forming over her pretty features as she succeeded in pinching the edges of the dough but not without making the dumpling look more like a lump.

"Is this what it's supposed to look like?" she asked.

"Not exactly, but at least it's closed," I replied, holding back a laugh. To be fair, dumplings for a first-time cook were a hard task. And she was doing a great job. "It's just like in pottery, you have to pinch the edges so they're smooth and tight."

Our hostess came around, surveying each of our creations. "When you're ready, you can put the dumplings into the water to steam them. Then, we eat!" she instructed.

Violetta and I took turns steaming our dumplings then moving them onto our respective plates to cool. I swatted her hand away as she tried to sneak a taste of the dumplings before they were cooled and ready.

Soon, the dumplings were cool enough and ready to eat. Our instructor visited each station, sampling a dumpling and offering words of advice. When she got to our station, her gaze between my plate which was filled with rounded, smoothly pinched creations whereas Violetta's looked a little off in size and shape.

"Very good attempts, both of you," she commented. Then, taking a bite from each plate, she added: "And very delicious."

Once she was done talking to all the members of the group individually, she addressed us again as a whole. "This concludes our cooking class for the evening. Fliers are up at the front if you'd like to join us in the future. Everyone did a really wonderful job tonight, so now go forth and mingle and taste! Bon Appetit!"

Violetta squeezed my arm. "C'mon, let's go talk with people."

The way she looked at me, a twinkle in her eye, made my heart soar. But I couldn't stay out with her tonight.

"I think I'm just gonna go back to the hotel," I murmured, grabbing my coat and purse from where I stashed them by the edge of our station.

"What, why?" Violetta frowned.

I glanced around the room. "Because. I just do, okay?"

"Fine, whatever, Reagan." She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I thought you'd want to spend this time together."

"It's my vacation," I snapped at her. "My vacation. Not our vacation. If you want to stay, then stay. But I want to go." I knew as soon as the words left my mouth that I would regret it.

Violetta pursed her lips and pushed past me. I watched as she opened up so effortlessly to the others at the event, as if her status as a celebrity didn't bother her now the way it did when we left the hotel.

And that was my cue to leave.

Back at the hotel, I settled onto the balcony with a blanket and my tablet to write up some more notes on the story for my editor. But thinking about Violetta didn't help get my mind off of her the way I thought it would. I sipped my mango-infused tea that I bought at one of the pop-up stands on the way back to the hotel. The cup was warm against my fingertips.

I wished I hadn't left Violetta at the cooking class. She could handle herself, I knew that much. But she'd seemed so...annoyed. Not that it mattered. We weren't together.

My heart skipped a beat.

Any time I even thought that—together—something inside me shifted. It wasn't worth changing the simple relationship that we had. Not that it was much of a relationship.

The sliding door to the balcony opened up, sending out a blast of warm air from the heater.

Then, "I brought back some dumplings."

I turned to find Violetta standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. "Thanks."

"Why'd you leave?" She pushed off the doorframe, pulling the door closed and coming to sit beside me on the adjacent chair.

"It was your idea, Violetta. And you were having fun. I didn't want to pull you away from that," I replied, sipping more of my tea.

"I was having fun because I was with you."

I turned to face her. "If the fun was just having me there as a bodyguard so you wouldn't be overrun by fans or paparazzi just wanting a story, then you have a very skewed definition of fun."

Violetta shook her head. "It's not about that, it never was. I can't fit into places the same way you can, so I don't like venturing out on my own. With you it's different." She reached out to brush some of my hair out of my face, but I quickly brought my hand up and did it before she could touch me.

"Reagan." Her voice cut through the chill of the night. "You're pulling away. I know we've only known each other a few days, but—"

"A few days?!" I screeched. "Violetta, we've known each other less than seventy-two hours. We really don't know each other at all. And any time I think about that and how I like you, I just..." I sucked in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being such a hot mess when it comes to admitting my feelings, and it's not fair to you. Any of this. I just don't naturally fall for people the way you do."

I thought she was going to pack up and leave. The sliding door to the balcony was right there. She could've just walked back indoors and left me behind. We weren't friends, not really anyway. We were two strangers who had been forced to spend our vacations together. All because of the inability for the springs of a hotel bed to hold the bouncing weight of a girl drinking away her heartbreak.

"Why are you apologizing for liking me back?" she asked finally.

"Because—wait, what do you mean 'back'?"

Violetta scooched closer and pulled out her phone. "Rea, you're not just some random stranger to me. You are exactly what—who—I needed to be able to find peace after Jess." She showed me her lock screen. It was now set to a collage of small moments we'd had together these last few days. "I would never have done this if I didn't feel something for you. I want this for us, Rea."

I swallowed. "But I don't know if I can do this. N-not yet at least. I like the closeness we have, but anything beyond that right now...I don't know. I'm not sure I feel it in the same way as you."

"That's okay," Reagan. Violetta placed a hand on my shoulder. "We don't have to label anything. I'm content with how things are."

My heart thumped in my chest as she leaned forward. Her forehead pressed against mine. I closed my eyes.

"This is all I need right now," Violetta whispered. It may have been only for my ears, but her words resounded louder than church bells as the weight of not knowing who we were to each other lifted off my shoulders.

Word count: 21,322 words