#&.convo

“beck!” stella’s voice rings down the hallway of their apartment toward his open bedroom door. “we’re going to be late.” her words emerge sharper than intended. she takes a deep breath, counts to five with the inhale, smooths the neckline of her dress so it lies just so against her chest. her mother had enlisted her presence at another event-- what was it the woman had planned this time? a charity auction for the preservation of some strange, exotic bird stella couldn’t pronounce the name of-- and, unwilling to sit through the evening alone, she’d pouted until beck agreed to tag along. again. only moments before they’d walked out the door beck had realized he’d misplaced his wallet, and delayed the whole operation while he searched. “did you check with all your work stuff?” with an impatient huff, stella set her clutch on the kitchen table, moving to rummage through the bag he’d left in a chair. only-- the top of a paper, peeking out from a file folder, caught her attention. harrington industries. she recognized the name. it often appeared next to her family’s as a sponsor for various benefits. 

she can’t help it-- she pulls out the folder, flipping it open to reveal page after page of business items. contracts and proposals and emails, printed and earmarked, beck’s familiar scrawl penning notes in the margins. a line appears in the furrow between her brows. only the approaching sound of beck’s footsteps, his figure looming in the entryway, breaks her attention. she stands, file folder in hand, unsure if he’s caught her or she’s caught him. “what is all this?” she’s sure he’ll know what she means, even before she places the documents face-up on the table. “you involved in some secret business deals or something?”

“honey, i’m home,” stella trills, stepping into max’s office, not bothering to knock. “and i come bearing gifts.” the rivera’s headquarters were mostly empty-- it was late-- but stella had spent enough time accompanying her dad to meetings that, had she arrived in the middle of the day, she still could have slipped by with a smile. the subtle surprise of max in a corner office ( they weren’t at the kids' table anymore ) made her pause, hazel eyes blinking in her surroundings. “you’re working too hard. it’s way past your time to take a break.” reaching into her oversized bag, stella produces two bottles of wine. “i couldn’t pick. want to start with white or red?”

-- STELLA rested her forehead against the darkened glass of her father’s company-issued car, cheeks flushed, glad for the relief. she knew how she must have looked to the driver-- a young, mostly silent man meant to chauffeur her parents-- with a half-emptied decanter of scotch ( her father’s favorite ) nursed between her palms. maybe drinking hadn’t been the best idea. stella had reached almost absentmindedly for the bottle an hour earlier, amber liquid swirling against crystal, in an attempt to lighten the annoyance she felt itching beneath her skin. it was nothing, stupid, a facebook status she should have blocked. it wasn’t like stella had expected the entire world to go dark the moment she left julliard ( but maybe she had, just a little. ) so why did it sting so much to see a casting announcement-- swan lake, her role-- go to her peers? only the scotch had made her feel heavy, hazy. by the time she’d called the chauffeur, the trees seemed to sway dark green. 

fuck, she missed dancing, missed new york, missed the stretch of her calves as she pushed herself to pointe. the sense of control it had given her, how each limb had felt like an extension of a melody in perfect time-- until one day, they weren’t. and now she was here, indicating to her driver where to drop her off, the blinking lights of a carnival announcing her arrival. her lips pulled down, a small grimace marring her features, as she took a final swig from the glass. warmth buzzed through her stomach. 

shea had mentioned his work schedule a couple times over the past few days, mostly in grumbled complaints, so stella knew exactly where to find him, conscious not to wobble as she worked her way up the dirt path. it was only as she reached the latte stand, his familiar mop of blonde hair in sight, that she realized how many people were around, how bright the last remnants of sun shone in her eyes. her chest tightened. “hey.” fuck, did she sound drunk? a tap on the shoulder to grab his attention, a dimpled grin to seem casual. “i heard some kid was making really lopsided hearts in lattes. totally not up to standards. thought i’d see what all the fuss was about.” she hadn’t meant to interrupt his shift, necessarily. had just called the driver to take her somewhere, and, without a real plan, had turned that somewhere into shea’s side. “any chance you get a break soon?”