The chart-topping pop star got dared on a live broadcast to call his first love. When the call came through, I was in the shower. My little brother picked it up by mistake. “Hello? You looking for my sister? She’s in the shower right now.” The pop star hung up instantly. When I finally called back, he answered on the first ring. A muffled, breathless sob came through the receiver. “Marguerite. Did I really have to wait until he left for it to be my turn?” “It’s fine. I don’t even mind.” I stared at my phone in absolute confusion. That night, Twitter absolutely exploded. #MuteTheWorldRowanIsHeartbroken #WhoCriesLikeABustedFireHydrantOnLiveTV #PopStarRowanBegsToBeTheSidePiece 1 A heavy knock hammered against the bathroom door. My brother Jim’s voice echoed over the sound of running water. “Hey Marguerite! Your phone is ringing. It’s an unknown number.” I didn’t think much of it and yelled back over the spray. “Just answer it for me!” “Got it.” By the time I wrapped myself in a towel and stepped out, Jim’s thumbs were flying across his own phone screen. He didn’t even look up. “That call was weird. I answered, no one said a word, and then they just hung up on me.” “Probably a wrong number.” I walked over, towel-drying my hair, and peeked over his shoulder at his screen. “Jim, are you using my gaming account to hit on girls again?” I reached out to snatch his phone away. “I gave you my password so you could grind levels. Use your own account to flirt. Get lost.” Jim dodged like a ninja. “Wait, wait! Come on, Marguerite, please! Just let me finish this match, and I’ll log off.” I grabbed my own phone off the nightstand. Scrolling to the call log, my thumb hovered over the screen and froze. That string of digits for the latest incoming call looked painfully familiar. The longer I looked at it, the more it looked exactly like the number belonging to my ex, Rowan. The same ex who had been dead to me for years. Was this a ghost calling? I hit redial. It rang for what felt like an eternity before someone finally picked up. “Rowan?” A wet, pathetic sniffle came through the speaker. “Marguerite. Did I really have to wait until he left for it to be my turn?” “Whatever. I don’t even mind being second.” “I miss you so much. Can I see you tomorrow?” I rubbed my temples. “Are you drunk, or did you just get amnesia?” What kind of nonsense was this? See him? We broke up ages ago. Calling me now, what, he wanted to dig up ancient history? On the other end, Rowan started whining loudly. “I… I just…” A loud, unmistakable sob. “Marguerite, I work out all the time now! I’m way better than those younger guys you like.” “Why won’t you just give me another chance?” Right. He was definitely wasted. Without changing my expression, I ended the call. 2 The moment I hung up, Jim started screaming from the corner of the room. “Marguerite! Marguerite, look at Twitter! Right now!” I covered my ears and glared at him. “Jim, I am standing right here. Stop screaming like you’re trying to wake the dead. Keep yelling and you’re sleeping in the hotel hallway.” We were supposed to fly back to New York today, but a massive storm grounded all flights out of Miami. By the time we tried to book a hotel, everything nearby was totally sold out. We barely managed to snag the last available room in a rundown motel, and it only had two twin beds. We had to make do. Jim defended himself wildly. “No, seriously, this is a massive deal! You’re trending. You and my favorite almost brother-in-law.” “I can’t believe that weird call was actually him. Are you guys getting back together? Crap, did I mess things up? Do I need to call him back and explain?” So, he wasn’t just drunk dialing me from his living room? I opened Twitter and checked the trending page. Good lord. He completely hijacked the top ten spots. #MuteTheWorldRowanIsHeartbroken #WhoCriesLikeABustedFireHydrantOnLiveTV #PopStarRowanBegsToBeTheSidePiece The two most liked videos at the top of the feed were screen recordings from a live broadcast. Rowan was currently starring in a hit travel reality show. This week’s location happened to be Miami. Caught in the same storm that grounded my flight, the celebrity cast had gathered on a covered patio to wait out the rain and chat. During the downtime, the bed and breakfast owner offered them some homemade local moonshine. Rowan took a few shots and completely lost his grip on reality. They started playing a drinking game. Rowan lost, and his penalty was a dare to call his first love. That led to the first phone call. The video showed the phone ringing on speaker for a long time. Finally, the whole cast heard a young guy’s voice filter through. “Hello? You looking for my sister? She’s in the shower right now.” On screen, Rowan’s face instantly went pale. His jaw locked, and he frantically mashed the end call button. The other celebrities tried to laugh it off, jumping in to save the mood. But a heavily intoxicated Rowan clearly had zero emotional regulation. He grabbed the nearest male celebrity, buried his face in the guy’s shoulder, and started wailing. Through loud, ugly sobs, he cried, “How could she? How could she just replace me with some new puppy?” The sound he made was identical to a boiling kettle screaming for help. In the second video, the moment he heard me say his name, his expression crumpled into pure misery. After delivering his unhinged, morally questionable speech about being willing to be my side piece, I ruthlessly hung up on him. The dial tone echoed on the live feed. Rowan cried even louder. The celebrity he had been using as a tissue couldn’t take it anymore. The guy hauled Rowan up by the arms and dragged him upstairs, completely out of the camera’s view. But even as the video ended, you could still hear Rowan crying hysterically off-camera. The comments section was an absolute goldmine. [Sister, I am begging you, please show this man some mercy. He is literally shattering into pieces.] [I am crying from laughing so hard. Who cries like that on national television?] [Drunk Rowan is a completely different species. The cool-guy persona is dead and buried.] [I don’t care, I love this version of him. Look at the sad little puppy!] [Rowan: Can I join your relationship? Marguerite: Hard pass.] I liked the comment about his persona being dead and buried. Back when we were together, I learned very quickly that Rowan had the alcohol tolerance of a toddler. Every time we drank, he morphed from a broody, intense musician into a clingy, crying mess. After I teased him about it one too many times, he refused to drink with me ever again. He insisted he needed to protect his edgy rockstar image. I used to joke with him back then. “You better treat me right, Rowan. If you ever get famous, I’m selling this dirt to the tabloids.” It was a shame we never got to see what that future looked like. 3 When I woke up the next morning, the sky had completely fallen. Before I went to sleep, I genuinely thought “Marguerite” was a common enough name. Surely the internet detectives wouldn’t trace it back to me. I underestimated them. In a single night, my TikTok account was completely overrun. My comment section was a synchronized chant. [Please have mercy on him, he’s falling apart.] My private messages were even crazier. Right at the top was an official invite from the director of Rowan’s travel show. [Hi Marguerite, I’m the director of ‘Wanderlust Diaries’. We’d love to know if you have any interest in joining us as a guest star for an upcoming episode?] I typed back quickly. [Are you just doing this to milk the gossip about Rowan?] The person on the other end must have been staring at their screen. The reply was instant. [Not entirely. I watched the videos on your page. As an action sports influencer, you fit the theme for our next location perfectly.] Right. I forgot to mention, I run a fairly popular TikTok account dedicated to extreme sports. So the next episode involved extreme sports? While I was still debating, the director dropped a bomb. A massive, ridiculous paycheck. I wasn’t exactly broke, but no one in their right mind turns down that kind of money. I accepted the offer on the spot. Good money, a fun trip, and a chance to get some premium footage for my own channel. It was a win-win. As for Rowan, I threw him entirely out of my mind. 4 Filming day arrived. We were at a famous coastal spot just outside of Miami. Given the weather and the ocean, it wasn’t hard to guess what the extreme sports theme would be. I arrived early. Only one or two other guests were lounging around the set. After some polite introductions, I started chatting with a guy named Carter, who was also in the extreme sports niche. Just as we were getting into a deep conversation about gear, a sudden chill crawled up my spine. I turned my head and locked eyes with Rowan. He was staring at me with a look of pure, toxic resentment. I gave him a look that clearly said, ‘What is your problem?’ considering there were cameras everywhere. But that only seemed to make him act weirder. I took a mental step back. Getting tangled up with Rowan again was a terrible idea. I leaned a little closer to Carter, effectively cutting off any chance for Rowan to join the conversation. Right then, the final guest arrived. It was Stella, an up-and-coming actress signed to the same label as Rowan. The moment she stepped on set, she completely ignored everyone else and made a beeline straight for him. “Rowan! So good to see you again.” Right as she was about to lean into his space, Rowan took a massive step to the side, dodging her completely. Then he looked straight at me. I could read the emotion in his eyes instantly. He was waiting for me to praise him like a good dog. I didn’t react. Rowan was great in a lot of ways, but his controlling, possessive nature was suffocating. Breaking up with him took everything I had. I was never going to walk back into that trap. 5 The director finally stepped out and announced the start of filming. He dropped the first task on us. Scuba diving. “You will pair up. Within thirty minutes underwater, the team that photographs the most unique species of fish wins.” “We will draw lots to determine your partners.” Hearing this, my eyes lit up. I was just complaining to Carter that my channel desperately needed some fresh underwater footage. Please, higher powers, let me draw Carter. We were perfectly matched for this. If I got paired with any of the actors, I’d have to jump through hoops with their agencies just to post my own TikToks. Too much hassle. The draw finished. I stared at the man walking toward me, and my eyebrows pulled into a tight knot. I was screaming internally. The universe absolutely hated me. Rowan stopped in front of me and held out his hand. “Marguerite. Looking forward to working with you.” I forced a polite, entirely fake smile and reached out to shake his hand. “Likewise.” Hopefully, it would just be a normal, professional partnership. I tried to pull my hand back after a brief second, but my fingers wouldn’t budge. Using the perfect blind spot away from the main cameras, Rowan shifted his grip, his long fingers wrapping entirely around my wrist. I gave my arm a hard yank. Nothing. I shot him a venomous glare. Was he losing his mind again? Didn’t he embarrass himself enough on Twitter a few days ago? Just before my patience entirely snapped, he slowly let go of my wrist. What I didn’t realize was that even in the camera’s blind spot, the eagle-eyed fans watching the live stream had caught the tension. [Look at those two in the corner. What is happening? Why did the vibe just get so intense?] [Camera guy, please zoom in! I need to know what they are doing.] [Look at his body language. Rowan is definitely up to something. I bet he just secretly grabbed her hand.] [I think you’re right. Did you see the way Marguerite just glared at him?] Underneath the flood of comments, a brand new hashtag started climbing the trending charts. #RowanAndMarguerite. When I went into the locker room to change into my wetsuit, Stella cornered me. Since we were the only two female guests on the show, the room was empty except for us. She leaned against the lockers, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Marguerite, I heard you and Rowan are a thing?” I paused zipping up my suit and looked at her. “Let me stop you right there. We are exes. We broke up a very long time ago.” Stella didn’t back off. She pushed further. “Oh. Why did you guys break up?” “That’s none of your business.” “Well, are you guys planning to get back together?” She waved her hands quickly. “Don’t get the wrong idea! It’s just that management wants me to fake a romance with him for the show to boost ratings.” “You know how it is, Marguerite. We’re just employees. I have to do what the agency tells me.” I grabbed my diving gear. As I walked past her toward the door, I finally gave her an answer. “Is that so? Well, you don’t need to worry about me. Rowan and I are never happening again.” “I make it a rule never to eat out of the recycling bin.” The moment I stepped out of the locker room, I slammed right into Rowan’s chest. I raised an eyebrow. He definitely heard all of that. Good. Let him hear it. Better to crush his hopes now so he stops acting insane. I sidestepped him and walked straight toward the beach. Heavy footsteps followed closely behind me. His voice was a low, tight growl. “Marguerite. That younger guy from the phone call. Is he really that amazing?” I stopped and looked back at him. A slow, ambiguous smile spread across my face. “Yeah. He’s actually incredible.” I mean, Jim was great at carrying all my heavy filming equipment when I needed a pack mule. He really was a good kid. Rowan’s face went completely dark. He opened his mouth to say something, probably something unhinged, but a crew member ran up and interrupted him, ushering us toward the boats. 6 Right up until we hit the water, I fully expected Rowan to sabotage the task. Back when we dated, whenever he heard something he didn’t like, his favorite revenge was purposely ruining things I cared about. During our junior year of college, I was performing a duet at a major campus showcase. My dance partner was a guy. Rowan threw a massive fit. “Marguerite, can you please just drop this routine?” I shook my head. “Rowan, I promised the senior choreographer I would do it. I can’t back out at the last minute.” He buried his face in my neck, his voice muffled. “Fine.” But the very next day, he went behind my back. He met with the choreographer and offered to perform an original solo song for the showcase. His only condition was that they cut my dance routine from the setlist. Rowan was the undisputed golden boy of the music department. The choreographer jumped at the chance and agreed immediately. When I found out, we had the worst fight of our entire relationship. I couldn’t understand how he could just casually erase weeks of my hard work, all because I had a male dance partner. He completely ignored the blood, sweat, and tears I poured into those rehearsals. He was entirely unapologetic. “Marguerite, I hate it. I hate seeing you pressed up against someone else.” “We belong to each other. We’re the only ones who make sense.” I stared at him, exhausted. “Rowan, I am not something you own.” “I think we need some space. Your need to control every aspect of my life is literally suffocating me.” “We’re done, Rowan.” That was the day I unilaterally ended the relationship. The cold splash of ocean water snapped me back to the present. To my absolute shock, Rowan was being the perfect partner. He took the underwater camera, gestured for me to get into position, and signaled for me to look at the lens. I pushed down the old memories bubbling up in my chest. I swam closer to him, pointing out rare fish, working in total sync as we snapped photo after photo. When we finally broke the surface and climbed back onto the beach, I couldn’t hold my tongue. “I really thought you were going to throw a tantrum and ruin the shoot today.” Rowan froze as he was unzipping his wetsuit. A bittersweet smile touched his lips. “People move forward, Marguerite. Everyone changes.” “How about you take some time and try getting to know this version of me?” The bustling noise of the crew seemed to fade away. We stood there staring at each other. The raw, burning intensity in his eyes was too much. I looked away first. 7 As the sun began to set, the broadcast moved into its final segment. The cast gathered around the patio of a beachfront villa provided by the production team. They drank beers, grilled food, and swapped stories. I leaned against the railing of the second-floor balcony, looking down at Carter and the others laughing around the fire pit. This late-night segment was basically a glorified interrogation. Last time, Rowan got publicly executed and exposed his first love. I had a strong feeling someone else was going to get thrown to the wolves tonight. To ensure I wasn’t the sacrificial lamb, I excused myself right after dinner and hid in my bedroom. I was just about to organize my GoPro footage when someone knocked on the door. It was Rowan. “What do you want?” “I told you. I’m here to be your dirty little secret.” Before I could process that sentence, his long leg stepped forward, forcing his way into the room. What the hell?
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