By later that week, Lu and I had completed several interviews and compiled a ton of notes. We traded off nights so that we could each get a well-deserved break to spend time experiencing more of Savannah.

While for Lu that meant going out with Ryan every other night, for me it usually meant slipping in a few extra minutes with Violetta. She was still studying for exams, so she wasn't able to do a lot of major socialization.

"Okay, so are you set for the next interview?" Lu asked me, sliding a pair of sunglasses to the top of her head. She'd informed me that Ryan was taking her to the beach today and she wouldn't be back until much later.

I nodded. "Yep. Jordan and I are meeting on the quad for lunch."

Jordan Wu was our next interviewee, a dancer with a passion for photography. From what we knew about her, she was just about up there with Violetta in terms of status, earning a following of millions of followers on social media. Not quite CelebG status, but a close second, earning her place on the cover of the school's magazine.

"Good. She's our last interview for a while, so we should have more time for ourselves soon." Lu sighed happily. "God, I love freelance."

I chuckled. "It definitely has some perks. Have fun on your beach trip."

Once Lu left the hotel room, I stopped by the studio hoping to see Violetta. The ceramics room was practically empty, though, when I got there.

"Hey there, can I help you?" another student asked, wiping their forehead with the back of their hand.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Violetta Dawson? She's a...we're close. I'm not like a reporter or anything." I kicked myself. Why the hell would I say that?!

The student chuckled. "Don't worry, she's told me about you. Vi's not here today; you should find her over at the photography studio."

"She's taking photography?" I really didn't know anything about this woman, did I?

"Last I heard she was one of the models." The student shrugged. "Anyway, if you wanna see her, I think that's where she'll be. Just turn right out of the main doors of this building and head that way. There'll be signs pointing you in the right direction."

I nodded and started toward the door. "Thank you."

A few minutes and several wrong turns later, I made it to the building the art student had mentioned. On my way, I texted Violetta and she responded with her location details. Which was helpful because the other student's directions were mediocre at best.

Not a surprise, Violetta was standing in front of a green screen as lights flashed around her and people shouted in her direction.

Unlike in Asheville where she was barely clothed and miserable, here she wore a very hip gothic outfit with ripped shorts, a crop top, and a pair of fishnets that ended in a pair of black combat boots.

Violetta smiled when she saw me, making a 'time-out' symbol with her hands. The person photographing stopped and turned, beckoning me to join them.

"Reagan!" Violetta bounced on her toes, depositing a kiss on my cheek. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too. I've only got a few minutes before I have to go do an interview, but I wanted to see you." I took her hands in mine and looked around. No one seemed to be paying us any attention at the moment. "Are we still on for that study date later?"

I called it a date, but the reality was it was just an excuse for us to spend time together and also be productive. If we thought long-distance made it hard for us to be together, being within only a few miles of each other was even harder. How that was possible, I had no idea.

She nodded. "Absolutely. And I promise, you and I will spend a lot more time together soon. Once these exams are done, the festival starts and then there's that for a while so you know we'll be together when we can."

"I hope so." I chewed on my lip.

Violetta reached out to brush her fingers over the stray hairs that fell loose from my ponytail. "We will. I want to hear all about this interview of yours later, okay?"

"Only if you promise to tell me about your photoshoot," I replied. "The grunge style works for you."

"I know, right?" She winked. "Thanks, babe. I'll see you later." After blowing me a kiss, Violetta spun around and skipped back to her place posing effortlessly for the camera. I watched mesmerized for another minute before remembering I had my prior engagement.

Luckily, the section of the quad where I'd arranged to meet Jordan was pretty close to the studio building where Violetta was doing her photoshoot.

I jogged across the grass, my own camera bag whacking my hip. "Sorry I'm late!" I called out.

Jordan Wu, my interviewee, leaned against a tree, arms crossed over her chest. She thumped her head slowly, and when she turned I could see a pair of white headphones in her ears.

"Jordan?" I tried again since she hadn't answered.

The girl blinked, taking out an earbud. "Oh, hey. Reagan Porter?"

"Yep, that's me!" I gestured to the benches. "Why don't we take a seat and we can get started."

Jordan shook her head. "I'd prefer if we walked. I need to keep myself moving." She chuckled. "Life of an athlete on the move, my teachers in elementary school loved that."

I laughed. "I bet. I'll let you lead the way then, you probably know the campus better than me."

"Okay." She started down the hill. Her long legs and dancer build made it difficult to keep up. I set up my recorder, went over the usual privacy details, then began my questions.

"How have you enjoyed college life?" I asked once we'd swept through her past and what brought her into dancing.

"It feels pretty much the same as it did when I was growing up. I get up at four am to train before classes and then I'm training until eight or nine at night." Jordan rolled her shoulders. "No one else has the work ethic that I do."

I frowned. That was a funny way of putting it. "And what about friends?"

"Oh! I'm super close with the other dancers. But we try to stay out of each other's way when there's a competition, you know? We all have our own ways to do things."

That reminded me how things used to be at the Tribune.

"So what do you do for fun?" I asked.

"Um, dance? That's what I do for fun. I don't have time for anything else."

Don't have time. Never any time. Always working. That sounded too familiar, the words twisting my heart.

"And, um, wh-what about when you're not dancing?" I winced. "I-I mean, like when there's not a recital or something."

"Competition," Jordan corrected. "In the professional world, they're called competitions. Usually I spend that training. When I'm not training, I do what's called 'hanging tripod' photography. The camera is angled just so with the right height which allows me to stand in front of a screen that I put up myself and capture all the poses."

Did she not...that's what she called fun? More work?

"You don't have someone help with that?"

"Oh god, no." Jordan flexed her hands. "Other people would screw it up. I'm not about that life. My boyfriend..." she trailed off, her body going tense. "My ex, he used to do photography too. Or I guess he still does."

"How long have you been apart?" I asked then kicked myself. "Sorry, that's really insensitive."

"No, it's ok." She stared down at her hands. "High school sweethearts. We started dating freshman year and honestly, the break up is still fresh. We—I ended things before college but it hadn't been going well for a while. He told me he wanted to marry me when we graduated from college, that he would've done it after high school but knew we both wanted the college experience. I told him dance was my life and I couldn't promise him anything. And that was that."

Just like Marianne.

"You chose your career over romance," I said, trying to sound as non-judgemental as I could. "I'm familiar with that."

"Yeah, you used to work for that one journal, something Tribune, right?"

"The Smokey Tribune," I supplied.

"Right." Jordan snapped her fingers. "They had a feature on their instagram back when you got engaged a few years ago."

I remembered that. One of my colleagues interviewed me and Mari for a super brief story on our relationship, which at the time was already rocky but we were—or I thought—still so in love that we passed right over the stress we were both under.

"It didn't last," I told her. "A lot of it was because of my obsession to work and nothing but."

"I figured as much, about the not lasting, that is." Jordan's gaze scanned over my face. "But there's more to life than romance. It'll be there, right? I mean, I can't just sit in my dorm room and eat ice cream crying over the boy I lost. I have to keep going. Dance keeps me going."

"Having that to hold on to, that's what keeps you grounded it seems," I said.

Jordan nodded. "When there's nothing else, it has to." There was a twinge of regret in her voice. How might it have been if she'd said 'yes' to her boyfriend instead of her dance career? What would've happened if I went freelance a lot sooner?

I would've never met Violetta, that's for sure.

"I'm sorry to end us so soon, but there's another engagement I must attend." I ended the recording. "Thank you for chatting with me today, Miss Wu. We'll be in touch."

Jordan grabbed my arm, as if clinging to the life that the interview provided. "Reagan, how do you do it?" she asked, her voice small and childlike. "I mean, you're dating Violetta Dawson of all people. Yes, I've seen the posts on CelebG. How do you manage a relationship like that on top of your career, on top of her career?"

I smiled softly. "We make time. We communicate, we vent. We—" I stopped, my smile faltering. That's what we should be doing. But we weren't. Not really.

"You what?" Jordan chewed her lip.

"We deal with the shit that life throws us, sometimes not in the best ways. But we come back to each other, and I think that's what matters. Just a word of advice before I go, don't let this life pass you by. You only get one, after all. Making an effort for those around you, that's where it's at."

"It's hard when there's no one to make an effort for."

I rested a hand on her shoulder. "Then make an effort to make an effort."

She glanced up at me. "Thanks, Reagan."

"Happy to help." I saluted her, then dialed Violetta's number.

It was about damn time I took my own advice.

We were sitting at a table in the back of the library where we wouldn't be disturbed. An empty pizza box sat to one side, the remnants of our dinner sitting away from the stack of books. We had carefully persuaded the desk clerk to let us bring it into the library, permitting that we ate in a study room.

"Okay, next one." I held up an image from Vi's flash card deck. She had one more exam in art history before she was home free. "What type of architecture is depicted here?" The image was of a cathedral.

"Um, the pointy kind?" Violetta made a face. "I give up, can you give me a hint?"

I snorted. "C'mon, Vi. Think about it."

Violetta scrunched up her nose in concentration. "Goth...gothic! Gothic, that's right."

"Yep." I took a swig of my soda. "How many more of these do you wanna do tonight?" It was getting late, but I didn't mind. Lu was on interview duty the next few days anyway to give me a break because she knew I would have more time with Vi following her exams.

She yawned and held her head in her hands. "Just a few more. Ugh, this is why I prefer molding clay to studying."

"Hey." I placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're Violetta freaking Dawson. You can get through this exam. If it helps, think of something to remind you of each kind of architecture."

Violetta scooched closer as I held up another flashcard. She leaned over my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin. I tried not to focus on that but she made it impossibly hard.

"What does Gothic remind you of?"

"Witches." She laughed. "Definitely witches."

"Okay, witches." I tapped the top of the card with a finger. "And what do witches have?"

"Pointy hats!" We looked at each other and burst into a fit of giggles. The noise echoed through the otherwise quiet library, ringing through the stacks.

"Shh!" One of the clerks walked by and stared us down. They looked exhausted as they scowled at us. "You're in a library."

"No, I thought we were in a dance hall," Violetta muttered under her breath, giving me the stink eye. That made me fall into a fit of laughter again just as the clerk walked away. They sprung back, frowning.

"Ladies," they warned.

"Sorry, sorry. We'll be quiet now," I said, putting on a very serious face and biting my tongue to keep from giggling.

"Why don't we take things back to my apartment?" Violetta asked in a low voice. Her fingers whispered over my arm. "We don't need to be quiet there."

The request was so simple and yet it held so many unknowns.

We walked from the library to Violetta's apartment. For someone who lived such a life as she did, I had expected something grand the way I had on tv—it seemed reality tv was all they showed these days—but the apartment was simple and quaint. A one bedroom with a couch that sat in front of a large television. She had a few potted plants spread throughout the room and accented decorations on the walls.

All in all, it felt very homey.

Vi tossed her keys onto the kitchen table then undid the tie in her hair, letting it loose around her shoulders. "Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"Just water, thanks." I perched carefully on the edge of her couch. Under a stack of textbooks and notes that were splayed about, the corner of a magazine page peeked out. My curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped it out.

My heart skipped a beat. This was my first freelance article. In between the pages of her textbooks, more sheets stuck out. I shakily took out each and every one. Every article since I went freelance. And she'd annotated them too. Colors, circles, underlines, stars all adorned the pages. There was so much vibrancy and life that she breathed into such a big part of my career.

"You found the clippings." Violetta blushed as she handed me a glass.

"Yeah, I, I didn't know you'd been following so closely."

"I have." She sat down next to me. "And I read them all. Every night. Every time I feel like I'm losing myself in this world of post-celebrity life. Because that never truly goes away. But your articles keep me grounded, Rea."

Rea. The name dropping from her lips was like a cool glass of water on a hot day. She'd used my nickname over a dozen times since I arrived in Savannah, and I still couldn't get enough.

She leaned forward, sliding a hand across my leg. "I'm glad you're here, Rea."

The movement sent a wave of euphoria through my veins, but there was still a barrier between us.

"I keep a photo of you on my desk," I blurted. "It-it's not much but you're who I want to be thinking about all the time."

Violetta brushed her knuckles over my cheek. "That's so sweet, Reagan." Her lips whispered close to my ear as her hand slid further up my leg, tracing circles on my thigh.

I jumped back a little, the water in my glass sloshing out and dripping over my fingers. "S-sorry," I whispered, setting the glass down on her coffee table. "Dammit, why does this keep happening?!"

"We can go slower," Violetta said, cocking her head to the side. "Back in Asheville you said you didn't fall...develop feelings the same way as others. So it's ok."

"No, it's not that." This was embarrassing. "The kissing, the touching is fine. I'm just...ticklish." I forced the last word out.

"Ticklish," Violetta repeated. "Okay, c'mere." She grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together before, shoving it under her shirt. My fingers grazed the fabric of her bra as she guided me toward the center of her chest. I could feel her heartbeat thumping beneath her skin. Then as she trailed my hand down her chest, her muscles tightened. Violetta tipped her head back slightly, a small whimper escaping her lips before she let go.

My hand fell down the rest of her stomach, resting at the top of her shorts where she let out a sharp breath. I pulled away.

"S-see? You're not the only one who's ticklish," she said.

"Oh yeah, I can see that now." My lips turned up into a teasing smile. "But you could've just said that."

Violetta smirked. "I find a hands-on approach is the best way to learn. Is it working?"

"Absolutely." I cupped her face in my hands and pressed my mouth against hers, soft and sweet. Her lips parted, allowing me to taste her tongue and nip softly at her lower lip.

I kissed her, lacing my hands through her hair. The tension around me melted away. She was safe. Familiar.

And everything I wanted, needed.

Violetta grazed her hand over the hem of my shirt, inching her way beneath it until I felt the warmth of her fingers against the bare skin of my stomach.

She kissed a pathway to my ear. "Is this ok?" she asked over the thundering of my heart.

"Yes." I clutched at the fabric of her shirt as Violetta shifted to lay us down on the couch so we were side by side, our legs a tangle of limbs.

As she kissed me, her hands threaded through my hair where it spread out around me. She kept me supported so I wouldn't fall off the couch, keeping her body close to mine.

My hands ran along the skin under her shirt, feeling her shudder beneath my touch. I tasted saltiness against her lips. A lump lodged its way into my throat.

How did I ever get so lucky? How did she ever choose me of all people?

"Rea, hey, it's okay." Violetta kissed away the tears that now fell freely down my cheeks. She shifted us back into an upright position, and I held tightly to her, gripping her shirt in my fist.

"You're s-so wonderful, V-vi," I hiccuped. "I don't...d-deser-deserve you and I-I c-can't, can't believe I'm s-so lucky..." The sobs took over and I looked away, not wanting Violetta to see me as an ugly mess.

Violetta curled me against her, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Hey, now. I know this isn't easy for you, especially the distance. I haven't stopped thinking about you since we parted ways at the Smoothie King, babe. I'm lucky to have you too. I think I hit the partner jackpot."

A blubbering laugh escaped my lips and I wiped at my nose with the back of my hand. Ew, I was so gross.

"I'm such a mess," I whispered.

She crooked her finger under my chin so I could stare into her green gold depths. "If you're a mess, then I'm a disaster. But better than that? You're all mine."

"Can we just..." my teeth sucked my lower lip. "This isn't how I thought tonight was gonna go, but I don't want to leave."

"No, you don't have to leave. You're gonna stay right here with me." Her fingers combed through my hair, weaving the strands together. She kept me there, tucked in her arms, until I was falling face forward from exhaustion.