Several days later...

I walked through the front doors of The Smokey Tribune at eight am the morning my article was due. Clutched between my fingers was a single sheet of paper riddled with crumple marks around the edges from my tight grip.

Hayden rolled his desk chair to face me as I walked by. "Reags..." he grabbed my arm. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." I sucked in a deep breath. "For once, I am absolutely sure that this is the right decision."

Hayden stood up. For a moment, I thought he was going to walk out. But then he applauded. Him and everyone else at their desks. Every one of my colleagues gave me cheers and claps and good luck wishes.

It was enough that it brought Spencer out of his office, grinning.

"What's going on out here?" he asked, a bright smile on his face. A smile that I knew in a few minutes would be wiped clear.

"Spencer, I-I need to talk to you," I said. My voice wavered, and I glanced at Hayden. He curved his hands into a heart shape.

Spencer's smile wavered, but he nodded nonetheless and led me into his office. He pulled the door closed as I stood at his desk.

"Please, sit."

"No, this'll only take a minute." I cleared my throat. "You approved my vacation time for Valentine's weekend knowing full well that Violetta Dawson, whom you wanted featured in your magazine, was going to be there."

My boss raised his eyebrows. "I knew she would be in Asheville, but I very well did not anticipate you two to share the same hotel."

"Either way," I continued. "Your words to me before I left were to bring you back 'the juiciest mango'. So here it goes." I laid down the piece of paper on his desk, the headline big, bold, and centered.

"'Asheville to Ashes, Dream to Dust'...Reagan, what is this?" Spencer's expression dimmer as his lips turned down into a frown.

"It's my letter of resignation," I said. Despite the pounding of my anxious heart, my voice remained steady. Maybe it was because of my cheering committee who I knew were only pretending to work while they listened intently to our conversation. Maybe it was because I knew what it meant—truly meant—to quit my job today.

"You're...what?"

"Writing the article on Violetta the way you wanted it, or at all for that matter, would've done a disservice to our readers. Not to mention what it would do to her. I know you let me write my articles how I want, but ever since our last conversation you've decided to go in a different direction. So I'm doing the same. I quit. Effective immediately."

As the words left my mouth, a weight lifted from my heart and shoulders. This was right. For the first time, this was the right decision.

Silence lingered between us to the tune of the ticking clock behind Spencer's desk.

Then he pushed back his chair, stood up, and reached out his hand. "Now that," he said "is one hell of a juicy mango. It has been a pleasure working with you, Reagan."

"And you as well." In all honesty, it was heartbreaking. But this job had shown me so many paths to the future, it was finally time for me to make my choice.

"There's nothing I can do to make you stay?" he asked. "Unlimited mango smoothies on me?"

I laughed. "Tempting, my no. I have my sights set elsewhere." I pulled at my lip as a blush crept into my cheeks. "This is for the best."

He nodded, and I knew he knew that I was referring to a who not a what.

"Good luck, Reagan," Spencer said. "Be well."

With the hours of my day that I now had back, I walked down the street soaking in the warm Carolina air. The breeze felt nice on my skin, dancing along the back of my neck as I strolled along.

There was even a skip to my step, and I couldn't help but let out a giggle.

No deadlines to meet, no celebrities—undiscovered nor popular—to question. Nothing but time to do what I wanted.

I had time to figure out a career. Hell, I was only 26 years old. There was only one thing I was sure of in this moment. And right now—according to CelebG—she was preparing for a shoot in Paris.

I sat down on a park bench and took out my phone. Since returning from Asheville, I'd forced myself to stay away from CelebG as much as possible. I couldn't bear the thought of hate comments accusing me of ruining Violetta's life.

They wouldn't be wrong, just a bit dramatic.

Instead, what I found days after the news hit the front pages of the magazines about Violetta's devastating heartbreak was that we had our own fandom. The same cluster of users who had praised us once before, affectionately dubbing us as 'Ravioli' and branding themselves in her fandom as the Violet Blooms. They fended off a few hateful commenters, banding together to show us their support.

WrentalCar67: #westandwithravioli (gotta roll with the punches sometimes)

SilverMoon_09: I totally shipped them so hard. It's devastating to hear the news :(

WattDoYouMean: @ViolettaDawson if you ever see this please know we love and support you always #westandwithravioli

YesImFrench: i love pasta #westandwithravioli

StarLight_StarBright: @YesImFrench smh this is about more than just pasta! This is about true love!

RoseyPosey127: my heart breaks for them #westandwithravioli

I chuckled to myself, glad to see there was still positivity out here in the celebrity world. I scrolled through CelebG, pausing when I saw an advertisement featuring Violetta. She stood clad in an accented bikini, smiling at the camera and holding a wine cooler with light orange liquid inside. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, but instead of the auburn I knew, it was now colored a deep purple with a touch of red.

'Mangolicious!' the advertisement read, '8% alcohol. Drink responsibly.'

My heart sank when I remembered what she'd told me about all the fussing endured with photoshoots. Knowing what I did, she probably hated being in that bikini. And to be honest, I would too.

I took out my phone, clicking on her contact. The screen hiccuped, so I clicked again and inadvertently hit the 'call' function. My eyes widened as I tried to frantically end the call, but then her voice picked up on the other end.

"Hello?"

It was such a simple word, but coming from the lips of the woman who I abandoned more than once in Asheville, it shattered the walls that had already begun to crumble.

"Reagan, I know that's you."

A lump formed in my throat and tears sprung to my eyes. Why couldn't I say anything?!

Violetta sighed on the other end. "I'm going to assume this was accidental." She paused, her breathing evident through the speaker. "Reagan, are you actually there?"

I'm here, I'm here, I'll always be here, I wanted to say to her.

"Okay. Um, I don't know if you're there but I'm gonna hang up now."

A pause, and then, "Dammit, Reagan. Why—"

My heart thundered in my chest as the next words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them. "I-I'm going to Smoothie King. The one in Morganton. I, um, I have no idea if you're even in the state, but um yeah. Just wanted...yeah."

"Okay."

My body heaved a heavy sigh when Violetta hung up. What did I think she was going to do, tell me she missed me? Agree to meet me there?

I pinched my nose between two fingers. Yeah, I definitely needed that smoothie now more than ever. Maybe even something stronger.

I made my way down the road to where the 'Smoothie King' sign flashed above the storefront. A wave of cool air washed over me as I walked inside and ordered my smoothie.

After a few minutes, the employee called out, "Mango smoothie!" I walked back up to the counter. "Mango smoothie for Violetta!"

I stepped back, my eyes wide, as Violetta stepped forward. Her now-purple hair was pulled back from her face, held in place with a sleek black clip. She smiled at the employee as she took the smoothie then turned to me.

"Hey, Reagan," she said.

The blender roared in the background as it mixed up strawberries, mangoes, and an extra scoop of whey protein.

I gaped at her. "Wh-what are you doing here?" My voice was barely audible over the noise.

Violetta shrugged as the employee watched us from behind the counter. "I was in the neighborhood."

"What?" I yelled over the noise, scowling at the blender. Never had I ever thought I'd curse the day the object that brought me my favorite smoothies were invented.

"Let's chat outside."

The noise ceased as my blood pounded in my ears. The employee handed me my smoothie, a mix of yellow and red.

"Enjoy!" she called out with a smile.

I wrapped my fingers around the styrofoam cup, mumbling a 'thank you' as I hurried to follow Violetta's long legs outside of the establishment.

She sat down at one of the metal tables and lifted her sunglasses from the top of her head to place down on the table next to her smoothie.

"What are you doing here, Violetta?" I took a sip of liquid courage from my cup.

Violetta poked her straw into her drink. "Like I said, I was in the neighborhood.

There went my heart double time.

"Th-that was the truth?" I asked.

"I wouldn't lie to you." A kernel of hurt slipped through her voice. Because I had lied to her.

I stared down at my drink, noticing the banner around the cup that depicted the familiar face sitting across from me. "I see you've become popular in the world of mangoes," I commented, holding up my cup.

Violetta blushed. "Yeah. It was just a small commercial." She twisted her straw around. "I received a movie offer."

"Oh." I tried not to show my disappointment because I really was not disappointed. I had no right to be anyway.

"But I turned it down."

"Oh?" I sat up straighter in the metal chair.

"And I fired Baxter." She glanced up at me. Her hazel eyes were a mesmerizing swirl of green, brown, and gold. It was a color combination I found myself lost in more and more each time I looked.

"Oh wow."

"Yeah. Pretty crazy stuff, right?"

I shrugged. "Sounds like you needed it though. What are you up to now?"

"Thinking about going back to school, actually." Violetta reached down and pulled out a booklet from her bag. "SCAD in Georgia. That's where I was going to go before...well, before I got famous."

Silence settled between us, a comfort compared to what I expected. It was so nice to have just a simple conversation with her.

"You know I've been looking for your article," she blurted. "The one you said you were writing. I couldn't find it. And when I called the magazine, they said you no longer worked for them."

Wow, she was quick. It hadn't even been a few hours.

"I don't, as of this morning." I took a breath. "I quit because they wanted me to do something I had no desire to do."

She raised her eyebrows. "Then those notes you talked about?"

I reached into my bag and pulled out my trusty tablet. Even without my job as a journalist, I knew I would still use it. Maybe to write, but to write what I wanted and how I wanted without the worry of someone else dictating the subject.

My fingers swiped shakily over my tablet screen and handed it to her. She took it gingerly in her hands. I watched as her eyes scanned over the screen. Her lips moved lightly as she read the words. Every single one. And I could've sworn tears glimmered in her eyes. When she was done, she handed the tablet back to me with a shaky breath.

"It's not much," I mumbled, "but I wanted you to know. If I would've written the article, this is what I would've said."

Violetta sucked in a sharp breath. She was going to leave. Or slap me. Or worse. I braced myself for the screams, the sting of her words or palm. Whatever she decided to use.

Instead she leaned across the chairs and cupped my face in her hands. Her lips pressed lightly against mine in a desperate plea.

It was like plucking the perfect mango from a tree and tasting the sweet, sweet juice for the first time. But definitely not the last time.

I relaxed into her arms. Her fingers tugged through my hair; mine snaked around her waist, pulling her closer.

Then she let go and the weight of the last week lifted off my chest as she smiled. This time, a tear dripped down her cheek.

"Rea, no one has ever said such beautiful things about me. Ever. This"—she gestured to my tablet—"this is the most beautiful piece I've ever read. Thank you."

"And I meant every word, Violetta," I said quickly. "Valentine's weekend in Asheville meant the world to me. I've never had so much fun in my entire life. And I didn't want it to end. I don't want what we started to be over. I'm sorry I ruined what we could've had. I'm sorry for not doing more to fight for us. What you said in Asheville, I do feel the same things that you feel. I mean, if that kiss just now means anything..." I rubbed at the back of my neck.

"Would you have written the article if you didn't feel the same?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I was assigned that article before I met you but I knew all too well that I couldn't in good conscience write the article for the magazine. It wouldn't be fair to you. It never was."

"I appreciate that." The look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

"Violetta, for the first time in my life I finally feel like I'm doing something right." Confidence washed over me as we sat there outside of the same Smoothie King where all of this started for me.

"Me too. It feels so freeing not to have someone constantly running around panicked, making sure I stick to an exact schedule and diet every second of every day. At least now I don't have to eat any more grapefruits." She wrinkled her nose, then stuck out her tongue.

We laughed together, the sounds mingling together in beautiful harmony.

I tucked my hair behind my ears. "So do you think...do you think we could try something? For real this time?"

Violetta grinned, sliding her arms up to tangle her hands in my hair again. "I think we can make this work. On one condition."

"What's that?"

She leaned forward again, kissing me for a second time before traveling her lips over to my ear and sending a shiver of euphoria down my spine. "As long as you promise to call me Vi."

The End.

Total Word Count: 27,419 words