The salt in the air fills my lungs as I let the sand slip through my fingers. Clenching my fist closed, I force the sand to stay in the palm of my hand. If only life worked this way. If only I could control my life like the grains of sand in my hand.

I let my hand go limp and watch the grains slip through the cracks in my fingers, much like everything else.

I hate my dad. I hate what he's done, who he's become. I hate that he tore our family apart. Granted, both he and my mom rode high on the perks of my fame since the beginning, but he took it too far.

How could he do this to me? How could he jeopardize our reputation so easily? You'd think he would realize the consequences after the first time this happened.

Or the second.

Or even the third.

He loves my fame so much you'd think he'd do everything in his power to keep it. You'd think if not even for me, he'd want to keep up his own reputation to help his new wine company out considering it was his baby.

One of the first things my dad did when I became famous was try to make his own name for himself. He couldn't stand living in my shadow so he immersed himself into any company or product that he could manage to squeeze himself into to get his name known.

Somehow, a wine company was willing to work with him and involve him in their business. Now he's the face of the company and even helps run the vineyards out in California. I think he begged for that part more than anything, wanting to be away from my mom in our home back in New York or out on the road trapped in a bus.

Even before my fame, my parent's marriage was a little rocky. They had me at such a young age, out of wedlock, and I think I'm the only reason they got married in the first place. Even then, before everything blew up for me, we had some financial struggles that added to the stress of their relationship. My parents have never been the perfect couple.

Regardless, my dad has no reason to go out and cheat on my mom. I don't care how bad their relationship is, no kid should have to hear their mom cry hysterically over the phone for hours with such public news that her husband is with other women.

That's why I was gone for most of the day. Chris and my team handled most of the damage control while I sat on the phone trying to console my mother.

How did my life get so fucked up?

As much as I love my job, sometimes I wish I could just be normal. I wish I could have a normal family and friends. I wish my life was my own instead the headline of a magazine. I wish I could go out and live my life without any judgment or fear. I shouldn't even be out here on the beach by myself right now. How sad is that? I feel like the only time I'm allowed to be alone is in the bathroom.

Letting out a sigh, I let the last of the sand fall from my hand. I look up at the waves, watching them roll in with the light breeze, trying to let them calm me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone walk up. They sit down on the sand next to me, pulling their knees up to their chest. It's Joslyn. She watches the waves for a minute with her chin resting on top of her knees, the wind blowing her hair around. Trying to manage it, she pulls her hair to one side before looking at me.

"Hey," she says softly.

"Hey."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Honestly? Not really," I admit. I'm done talking about it, hearing about it, thinking about it, and living it.

She nods in understanding, resting her chin back on her knees to watch the waves.

I'm thankful she doesn't push me. I think she somehow knows that I'm over it and not just shutting her out. I trust her, but I'm not the type that likes to talk about my feelings. Maybe it's because no one really asks me about my feelings, so I don't really know how to express them. Regardless, I don't need someone to validate my feelings by listening to me and giving me advice or words of encouragement. I just want someone here for comfort, and I think she understands that. I think she understands me a lot, despite the few months we've known each other.

Gazing back over at her, I can't help but notice that she looks beautiful. The breeze has a few strands of her dark hair tickling her face while the moonlight illuminates her tan skin. If I look closely, I can see the moon reflecting off her hazel eyes as she looks out at the waves.

She lets out a small sigh and stretches her legs out in front of her, leaning back on the palms of her hands. While she looks up at the moon, I debate on grabbing her hand closest to me. Before I can muster up the courage to do so, she stands up, brushing the sand off the back of her legs.

She walks the short distance to the water, sticking her feet in to let the warm water lap at her feet. I can instantly see her relax, shoulders falling as she takes in a deep breath.

Following her lead, I stand up and meet her at the water, letting the waves skim over the tops of my feet.

"Where were you tonight?" I can't help but ask.

Tonight, during the show, I couldn't spot her at the soundboard like I usually do. As ridiculous as it sounds, I look for her face every time the bright stage lights dim and I'm able to see the crowd. She wasn't there tonight. Of all nights, I couldn't help but be upset over it. After the talk she gave me backstage, I just really wanted her to be in the audience for me as a reminder to forget about everything.

I see her cringe a bit, shamefully looking down at her feet. "I had to get some work stuff done tonight. I'm sorry. I really wanted to be out there with you, but you know I can't do work stuff out in the arena because someone could see all the information."

I nod, understanding. But still, I wanted her out there with me.

"I did watch you tonight, though. Through the TV in the dressing room," she says. "You did really well." She gives me a small smile.

I would have done better if you were out there in the crowd with me, I think childishly.

"Hey," she frowns, comfortingly grabbing my elbow after I don't say anything. "Everything's going to be ok."

"I know." I sigh. "I just... I hate him," I admit, feeling the need to actually open up. Feeling comfortable enough.

She frowns, nodding, encouraging me to go on.

"I hate the person he's become. It's like he doesn't even care about me or my mom anymore," I admit.

I go on to tell her all about my dad, my parents, and my feelings. Before I know it, I've spent over an hour spilling my guts out to her. I couldn't help it, it all came out like word vomit. I felt so comfortable telling her all this stuff, and it felt good to have someone actually listen to me for once. To get it off my chest.

All while I was talking, she didn't say a word. She gives hums and head nods of understanding, and that's all I need. I don't need her to give me advice or pity me, I just needed her—someone—to listen.

"It'll all be ok," she says when I'm finished talking, placing her hand on my back and rubbing soothing circles.

"I know."

I hook my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side. She wraps her arms around my middle and I press my cheek to the top of her head. We stay like this for a while, until the sun starts to break, the sky starting to become lighter.

"It's almost 6:00 a.m.," she notes, digging her phone out of her pocket to check the time. "We should probably go back inside."

"I don't want to," I admit. I'm not even tired yet,?and I want to spend more time with her instead of by myself, locked back up in a room.

"Well, what do you want to do?" She giggles.

"I don't know. Anything," I admit, just wanting to be free for a few more hours.

"You know, I've actually never been here before," she says, a hopeful look on her face.

I get the hint. "Come on, let's go find you a flower then." I smile, leading her up the shore.