Lola's View
Last Night - 8:47 PM
I grabbed the bottle of tequila at the same second someone else did. "Excuse me," I said, not letting go. "I was here first."
"Actually, I'm pretty sure I touched it first," the guy said. He had a nice, deep, and a little rough.
I looked up, ready to fight, and forgot what I was going to say.
He was beautiful. Dark hair, silver-gray eyes, and a smile that made my stomach flip. He was also covered in dust like everyone else at this crazy festival. "Tell you what," he said. "We could fight over it, or we could share it."
"I don't drink with strangers."
"Perfect. I'm Marco." He held out his hand. "Now we're not strangers."
Despite myself, I smiled. "Lola."
His handshake was warm and strong. "So, Lola, what brings you to Burning Man? You don't look like you want to be here."
"Is it that obvious?"
"You're scowling at an event dedicated to fun and freedom. Yeah, it's pretty obvious."
I grabbed two cups from the bar and poured us each a shot. "A client agreed to meet me here. Except she's not taking my calls, and I'm starting to think this was all a waste of time."
"Sounds like you hate festivals."
"I hate everything about them. The fake happiness. The act of caring about each other. The stupid outfits and terrible music." I downed my shot. "Give me a quiet night at home any day."
Marco laughed and took his own shot. "Finally! Someone who gets it! I thought I was the only person in the world who thinks parties are pointless."
"Right?" I poured us another round. "What's the point of believing life is magical when we all know it's just hard work and disappointment?"
"Exactly! Why waste time on holidays and parties when you could be doing something productive?"
We clinked our cups together, and I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Understanding. "So, what's your reason for being here?" I asked. "If you hate festivals too."
Marco's smile faded a little. "Needed to leave. Sometimes you get so caught up in your life that you forget who you are. Thought maybe coming here would help me remember."
"And has it?"
"Not until about two minutes ago."
The way he looked at me when he said it made my heart skip.
We ended up staying at that bar for hours. One shot turned into three, turned into losing count. We talked about everything: our families, our jobs, our dreams, our failures. "I had to drop out of college," I told him, surprised by how easy it was to say. "My dad got sick, and I had to work to support us. I was learning event planning, which is funny because now I hate events."
"That's not funny. That's sad," Marco said. He wasn't slurring his words yet, but his eyes were softer. "You gave up your dreams for your family."
"What else was I going to do? Let him fall apart alone?"
"Most people would have. That makes you pretty amazing."
I felt tears sting my eyes. "I don't feel great. I feel stuck."
He reached across the bar and took my hand. "You're not stuck. You're living. There's a difference."
"What about you?" I asked, needing to change the subject. "What are you running from?"
Marco was quiet for a long moment. "Expectations. Everyone thinks they know who I am based on what I have, not who I actually am. I'm so tired of being alone in a crowd."
"I get that," I whispered. "I've been alone since my mom died. My dad's physically there, but he's not really there, you know? And I don't have time for friends because I'm always working." "When did your mom die?"
"I was fifteen. Cancer." "I'm sorry." And the way he said it, he really meant it. "My dad wrecked our family, too. Different way, but same end. He gambled everything away and didn't care who he hurt."
We sat there, holding hands across the bar, two broken people who'd found each other by accident. "Want to get out of here?" Marco asked. "Walk around? See what this event is actually about?" "I thought you hated festivals." "I do. But I like you."
My cheeks went warm. "Okay. Let's go."
We walked through the fair, and with every step, I felt lighter. Marco made me laugh until my sides hurt. He pointed out ridiculous art pieces and made-up funny stories about them. When I tripped over a tent rope, he caught me and didn't let go of my hand afterward. "Body art!" Marco pointed to a tent. "We have to do that."
"Absolutely not."
"Come on! When's the last time you did something fun just because?"
"I don't do fun."
"Exactly. That's the problem." He pulled me toward the tent. "Live a little, Lola."
The paint was cold and ticklish. Marco painted a star on my cheek, being so gentle and careful that I almost cried. When it was my turn, I painted a heart on his hand. "Why a heart?" he asked. "Because you're kind. And kind hearts are rare."
He looked at me for a long moment. "So are brave ones. And you're the bravest person I've met in a long time."
We ended up at a dance area where music pounded through huge speakers. I never danced. Ever. But Marco pulled me into the crowd, and suddenly I was moving, laughing, feeling free for the first time in years. "You're beautiful when you smile," Marco said in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "You're just drunk." "I'm drunk on you, not the booze."
I should have laughed. Should have rolled my eyes. Instead, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.
The world disappeared. There were just his lips on mine, his arms around me, the feeling of finally being exactly where I was supposed to be.
When we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard. "That was," Marco started. "Yeah," I finished.
We walked some more, talking about our childhoods, our fears, our hopes. I told him things I'd never told anyone. He did the same. "I have this ring," Marco said, pulling it from his pocket. "My grandmother gave it to me before she died. She said to give it to someone who makes me feel alive again."
"And do you? Feel alive?"
"Right now, with you? More alive than I've felt in ten years."
I knew it was the drink. Knew this was just one night. But something in my chest was screaming that this was real. That this mattered. "There's a wedding ceremony thing going on," I said, pointing to a lit-up area. "It's just for fun. Art display or whatever."
Marco's eyes lit up. "Want to do it? Just for laughs?" "That's crazy." "The best things always are."
We ran toward the wedding area, laughing like kids. A minister in colorful robes smiled at us. "Another couple in love!" he said. "We're not," I started.
But Marco squeezed my hand. "Actually, we are."
My heart stopped. "Marco"
"I know this is crazy. I know we just met. But I've never felt this way before, Lola. Like I can be myself. Like someone actually sees me." "I see you," I whispered. "Then kiss me. Even if it's just for tonight. Even if tomorrow, we go back to our regular lives. Let's have this one beautiful moment."
I should have said no. Should have been smart and careful like I always was.
Instead, I said, "Yes."
The service was beautiful. We made promises that came straight from our hearts. We swapped cheap festival rings. We kissed under an arch of flowers while strangers cheered.
And for those few minutes, I believed in magic again. "I have to tell you something," Marco said as we walked away from the gathering. "I don't usually do this. I'm usually very controlled. Very careful."
"Me too. I never take risks."
"But this feels right. You feel right."
"I know." I stopped walking and looked up at him. "I feel like I've known you forever."
He kissed me again, slower this time. Deeper. "Come back to my tent," I whispered. "Stay with me tonight."
"Are you sure?"
"I've never been surer of anything."
We walked back to my tent, stopping every few steps to kiss. My hands were shaking as I opened the tent flap. "Wait," Marco said. "I want to remember this. You. This moment."
"Me too."
He reached into his pocket. "I have this silk rope thing I bought earlier. It's stupid, but" I laughed. "I have silk ropes for my tent. They're lavender."
"That's perfect. You're perfect."
We fell into the tent together, laughing and kissing. At some point, the ropes got mixed up in our game. At some point, everything got soft and warm.
The last thing I remembered was Marco saying, "I know this sounds crazy, but I think I'm falling in love with you."
And me saying back, "That's not crazy. I think I'm falling in love with you, too."
Present Day - 1:23 PM
I stared at my phone, watching the video of that moment play out on every news site in the country.
Watching drunk-me say I was falling in love.
Watching drunk-Marco drunk-Enzo say it back.
Watching us kiss like we'd found something valuable and rare.
The comments were brutal. "She's obviously acting to trap him!" "He was clearly too drunk to consent!"
"This whole thing is a scam!"
But the worst part wasn't the insults. The worst part was the film itself because it showed the truth.
We hadn't just been drunk. We'd been falling for each other.
And now the entire world knew it. "Lola." Enzo's words broke through my thoughts. "We need to"
His phone rang. He looked at the screen, and his face went white. "It's the board. They're voting right now." "Answer it," I said quietly.
He answered on speaker. "Mr. Marchesi," a cold voice said. "We've seen the videos. We're calling to tell you that you've been removed as CEO, effective immediately. Security will escort you from the company property upon your return. This choice is final."
The line went dead.
Enzo stood there, his phone hanging limply in his hand. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. "It's not your fault." "Yes, it is. If I hadn't, "If you hadn't what? Been yourself? Made me laugh? Made me feel human for the first time in years?" He looked at me, and his eyes were wet. "I lost my company, Lola. But last night? Last night I found something I didn't even know I was looking for." "What?" "You."
Before I could reply, my phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number.
I answered without thinking.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Lola." Vanessa's voice was sweet as poison. "Enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame? Because it's about to get so much worse. Check your email. I sent you a little present."
She hung up.
My hands shook as I opened my email.
There was a movie attachment. I clicked it, and my blood ran cold.
It was a security video from five years ago. The day Enzo bought my father's company.
But this video showed something I'd never seen before.
It showed my father and Enzo in a room together. And my father was happy. Shaking Enzo's hand. Taking the check freely.
There was no force. No pressure. No evil billionaire destroying a harmless man.
Just two guys making a deal.
The video showed that everything my father had told me for five years was a lie.