I ran.
I bolted out of that room like it was on fire, like I was on fire, like I had just seen the ghost of all my terrible life choices—and he was shirtless.
"ELIO!" someone yelled behind me. Probably Bastien. Maybe God. I didn't stop to find out.
Nope. I sprinted past the changing rooms, past the gaping security guy who dropped his walkie-talkie, and past a group of students holding three iced coffees and a therapy-level amount of stress.
One of them asked, "Are you okay, sir?"
No. No, I was not okay.
I dove into the nearest safe space I could find—the backstage staff bathroom.
Locked the door. Sat on the closed toilet lid. Then I stared at the wall like I was trying to astral project out of my own skin. Then, finally, like the true adult I am, I pulled out my phone and texted Giulia.
***
ELIO [10:12 AM]: Gio I'm spiraling
GIULIA [10:13 AM]: … You spiral every time they run out of tiramisu at the cafeteria. What level of spiraling are we talking about here?
ELIO [10:13 AM]: SPIRAL LEVEL: MY BABY'S FATHER IS A CELEBRITY
GIULIA [10:14 AM]: ??? EXCUSE ME??????
ELIO [10:14 AM]: THE GUY FROM THE ONE NIGHT STAND. THE GUY WITH THE HOT CHEST AND DEEP VOICE. THE GUY WHO ASKED, "ARE YOU OKAY?" BEFORE FLIPPING ME LIKE A PANCAKE.
GIULIA [10:15 AM]: OMFG. NO WAY. WAIT—WHO? WHO IS IT??
ELIO [10:15 AM]: BASTIEN. BASTIEN FREAKING CHEVALIER. THE MAN WHO JUST SAID "GET IN" TO ME LIKE HE WAS INVITING ME INTO HIS CASTLE TO RUIN MY LIFE
. . .
. . .
. . .
GIULIA [10:16 AM]: I—I need to sit down. Wait, I am sitting down. I need to lie down. ELIO YOU SLEPT WITH A CELEBRITY AND GOT PREGNANT. WTF.
You had a one-night stand with the SEXIEST MAN IN ITALY and didn't realize it until now???? ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT!
ELIO [10:16 AM]:He was wearing clothes that night!!!Dim lights! Wine! I didn't know he was a walking magazine cover!!
ELIO [10:16 AM]:
You are an idiot! A real big idiot!
ELIO [10:17 AM]: Gio, What do I do? WHAT DO I DO? I can't even look at him without sweating through my shirt, and now I have to spend the WHOLE DAY with him.
GIULIA [10:18 AM]: Okay, okay, let's breathe.
You are a professional.
He doesn't know you're the same guy from that night, right?
ELIO [10:18 AM]: NOT RIGHT NOW, BUT WHAT IF HE RECALLS? I WAS HIS HUMAN PILLOW FOR HOURS. HE WILL DEFINITELY RECALL.
GIULIA [10:19 AM]: Maybe he's stupid. Or maybe you were just really forgettable. 🤷♀️️ (Just kidding, please don't cry).
. . .
ELIO [10:19 AM]:
Help me, for God's sake!!
GIULIA [10:20 AM]: Okay, listen to me. You can't change positions now. This job is locked in.You're the assigned handler/teacher/nanny/man-with-anxiety.
So do your job.
Pretend you've never seen his nipples in a moonlit room.Easy.
ELIO [10:20 AM]:EASY?
IT'S NOT THAT FREAKING EASY!!!!!!
GIULIA [10:21 AM]:
Suck it up, baby mama. You can have a breakdown when you're off the clock. Until then, be a PROFESSIONAL. Or at least look like one from 10 feet away.
***
I dropped the phone on my lap and groaned. Loudly. The kind of groan that echoed off the tiles and made the janitor outside pause and say a prayer.
This was bad.
This was so bad.
This was it. This was karma. For skipping church. For stealing extra fries off Gio's plate. For that one time I lied about my GPA to impress a Rocco who now turned out to be my sister's future husband-to-be.
I had to pull myself together, walk back into that room, and spend the entire day pretending I didn't know what Bastien Chevalier's moans sounded like at 3:27 a.m.
Nope. I flushed the toilet just to feel something.
I splashed water on my face, slapped my cheeks, and stared at the mirror like I was about to fight a demon (aka my emotions).
Then I slapped my cheeks—once, twice—like I was about to enter a boss battle.
"You can do this," I whispered to my reflection. "You are a composed adult. You are calm. You are professional. You are not thinking about his abs. Or his voice. Or the fact that he might've gotten you pregnant."
I inhaled. Exhaled and muttered my new mantra: "I am emotionally unavailable and underpaid."
Then I pushed open the bathroom door and marched down the hallway like a man going to his own execution.
"Let's pretend I don't know him," I mumbled under my breath. "Let's pretend he's not the father of my child. Let's pretend I'm a functioning human being."
I opened the door to his dressing room.
There he was.Sitting by the mirror.A makeup artist dabbing a sponge onto his face with all the reverence of a monk painting a god.
And then he saw me.
His eyes locked on mine like a heat-seeking missile, and he immediately raised a hand to stop the makeup artist mid-sponge dab. She looked offended. I looked like I was ready to be buried alive.
Bastien stood up.
He stood up and walked toward me.
OH GOD. OH NO.He's coming closer.He's walking.HE'S WALKING.
My brain short-circuited.My heartbeat hit samba mode.My fetus probably did a backflip in there like "bro what the hell is going on out there???"
He stopped just in front of me.
"Why did you run?" he asked, tilting his head like a mildly curious panther.
His voice.His voice was deep, smooth, and sin dipped in velvet.THE VOICE FROM THAT NIGHT.
I evaporated on the spot.Spirit gone. Soul left the chat.Body on autopilot.
"Uhm—I—" I stuttered. "I had an emergency."
His eyes narrowed. "Emergency?"
"Yes." I nodded way too hard. My neck did a full chicken bob. "Nature's call, sir. The urgent kind. Like... waterfall level."
He blinked.
I laughed nervously.
He didn't.
Then he leaned in a little, and I swear I saw my unborn child high-five the Grim Reaper.
"For some reason," he murmured, eyes scanning my face, "I feel like I've met you somewhere before."
OH.FUCK.NO.
My stomach did a somersault. My soul did the sign of the cross. I smiled—tight, awkward, like someone who was just caught stealing Wi-Fi and possibly fathering a child with Italy's hottest man.
Did he remember?
Oh god.Did he remember?!