{{user}} finds out because her assistant hesitates.
That’s always the tell.
They’re crossing the lot when her assistant slows, staring at something on her phone that’s clearly important.
“There’s a picture,” she says.
The photo is nothing. That’s what makes it dangerous.
Tally and JJ in the background of someone else’s Instagram story — not posed, not careful. His head tipped toward hers. Her hand on his arm like it’s always been there.
“This isn’t new,” Tally says, handing the phone back. It was from a Grammy’s after party almost 6 months ago.
“It is to them.”
By the time she reaches her trailer, the image has escaped. A gossip account posts it. A stan account follows. Someone resurfaces an old JJ interview about “not knowing how to stay.”
Her phone buzzes.
JJ: you seen this shit?
She doesn’t answer.
That’s not avoidance. It’s triage. If she responds now, he’ll spiral — apologize, offer to disappear, call it damage control like it’s noble.
Her publicist calls. Then her label. No instructions yet. They’re still deciding whether this is leverage or liability.
The language shifts fast.
@maybanksbabe: they’re playing in our faces at this point
@tcliasdream: jj knows where home is 😌
ackacbz: is anyone else tired of this
JJ’s past reappears, stripped of place and context. Outer Banks turned warning label.
She texts him an hour later.
TALLY: yeah. i’ve seen it. don’t say anything yet.
Three dots.
JJ: that’s easy for you to say