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Everyone knew Cadence Dorian, the midwestern sweetheart, had a way with words. Not only did her debut album go certified platinum, but all the songs she ghostwrote topped the charts.
Everyone knew of Raleigh Carrera. They knew his image, his voice, his affinity for danger and property damage. To the world, Raleigh Carrera was a certified bad boy.
Everything everyone knew was only half of the truth.
Nobody knew who Raleigh and Cadence were when they were together. When all they wanted is to share a peaceful dinner, hold hands, and have Raleigh carry her at the end of the night when her heels got too painful.
In public, they were the poster couple for on-and-off, toxic lovers. Raleigh is the flirt; sizing up opportunity after opportunity, and drinking a little too much. Cadence is the goody-two-shoes keeping him on a leash, and severing it once he gets too rowdy.
Every public encounter between them has a layer of tension implied.
After weeks apart, they ran into one another at the MoDA Gala. Their very public breakup stunt still very fresh in the public psyche.
They bumped into one another on the red carpet - literally. Raleigh turned to avoid a few reporters and knocked into Cadence posing for photos. It had the potential to be a PR nightmare.
The crowd gasped.
The pair just looked at one another as Raleigh went to steady her. His hands firmly on her body and thousands of pairs of eyes watching their every move as he leaned over;
“You look beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.
Cadence bit the inside of her lip, schooling her features from the bright smile threatening to oust them. Raleigh pulled away all too soon for her liking. But not soon enough for them to not get throngs of questions thrown at them;
“Are you getting back together?”
“Have you worked through your issues?”
“Will you be making music together in the future?”
“How do you really feel about the break up?”
“Can we get a picture together for the fans.”
The evening droned on and on and became more about business than the charity they’re here to support. There were only so many networking and industry conversations Cadence could take. And none of them were quite as endurable without Raleigh by her side.
The worst part of the evening by far was their publicists making sure they weren’t seated at the same table, keeping them apart for appearances sake.
Eventually Cadence needed a breather, a healthy dose of reality. So she made a sneaky decision. As no phones were allowed at the gala, she wrote on a napkin and whisked across the room to slip it under his champagne flute.
Then she waited in the shadows of a roped off area.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she said with a flirty smirk as Raleigh rounded the corner.
“This is bold,” he commented with his signature smirk. “What’re you gonna do with me now that you have me alone?”
“Murder sounds good. But be a dear and please keep your blood to yourself. This is a Zadie Couture original.”
He let out a laugh and crossed the distance. His hands reaching out to wrap around her waist before kissing her lightly, yet with the force of all their bottled up feelings.
“How was the rest of tour?” he asked when they broke apart.
Her face lit up and Raleigh’s heart skipped a beat. “Amazing! I can’t believe I sold out Troubadour!” Her fingers trailed to tangle in the strands at the back of his neck, “Missed you though.”
“Knew you could do it, kid.” He pressed a sweet peck to the tip of her nose.
Cadence smiled then leaned into him so that their lips met once more.
When they pulled away they gave a knowing look.
“Let’s go home.”
They slipped out of the event one at a time. Hank drove Cadence home and Raleigh called an Uber. They entered their building through separate entrances - her through the front door and him through the parking garage.
They met back up in the elevator where no one but building security could see them together.
Once they were safely home, Raleigh wasted no time in freeing Cadence from the confines of her corset.
“Oh sweet oxygen!” she sung as the dress fell to the floor and she could finally take long, deep breaths. All she wanted was the sweet comforts of home. “Where’s my onesie?”
“Under the pillows where you left it,” he said matter-of-factly as he began stripping off his suit.
“You didn’t wash it!?”
“No,” Raleigh shrugged, “Why would I?”
She looked at him, dumbfounded, “I’ve been gone for three weeks.”
How did he not think to wash the dirty clothes? She thought to herself.
Their eyes met as he told her, “It smells like you.”