#dystincts.

“ now you're concerned about the way i feel? ” 

grace’s fingers tighten just slightly around the drink she’d barely taken a sip of, some neon - colored citrus concoction that didn’t taste nearly as strong as she wanted. her phone sat propped against the salt shaker, the screen still open to the godforsaken article with a headline that read like it was penned by a teenager with a fan account. mystery man spotted on the beach with the former disney darling ⸻ could this be her prince charming? the picture wasn’t even good. a grainy, low - res zoom from several yards off, her mouth half - open, sunglasses pushed into her hair. and there he was. santiago. back to the camera, face not clear enough to be recognizable, but just enough of him to get tongues wagging. she stared at it for another second, teeth grinding behind her pursed lips, then finally turned her phone face down on the bar with a sharp thud. she hated this part. always had. the loss of control. the manufactured narrative. the assumptions. just like when she left the network, when she emancipated herself, the world painted her as some fallen princess. and now santiago, who’d been nothing more than a half - decent conversation on a sunny afternoon, was about to be dragged into the mess. her mess. then, as if having the ability to summon him just by thinking about him, the bell above the door chimed, a familiar figure walking in. she looked at him, annoyed, tired, and oddly regretful all at once. “ before you say anything, ” she said dryly, “ i didn’t sell the photo. though maybe i should’ve. could’ve at least bought myself a stronger drink. ”