We were asked to move off the set while they tried out a new idea with props.
“I was just getting ready to come meet you when she showed up and marched her way in. It was a whole… thing. And then B peed on her shoe and she fell into me trying to get away from it and I dropped my phone in the puddle and while I was trying to save my phone, she ran upstairs and took a shower. Because apparently a shoe in pee means you have to wash your entire person.”
Lior pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.
“Well, that explains the wet hair,” Lior said. “And the no response to my texts.”
“While she was in the bathroom she apparently made some calls. I don’t know if it was for you or for her boyfriend to see, but it was fucked up and I would’ve gotten in touch with you but then something happened with Brontë and I had to take her to the vet and… I didn’t even get to the store to get a new phone until the next day. And when I did, well…”
“You saw the pictures of me and Jeremy.”
I was quiet, watching a myriad of emotions play across her face.
“Is B okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. She’s just old.”
“I know you have a vet, but I could ask Addie for some ideas on how to make life a little more comfortable for the sweet girl. She has some interesting approaches sometimes.”
“Anything to help would be appreciated. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We grew quiet again, but I found I couldn’t help myself. I was still curious. Still bothered.
“So, you and Jeremy Lane are dating again?”
“No, we are not.”
“Was that just…” I trailed off, not wanting to sound presumptuous.
She didn’t look at me for a moment, and then turned to face me, shoulders squared, eyes fierce.
“I was mad,” she said. “But that wasn’t for you. It was for me.”
Jealousy snaked up my spine. Even though I already had been since the picture was posted, I didn’t need an even more vivid picture in my mind of her and Jeremy Lane having sex.
She continued, “I felt… small. I just wanted…”
“I get it,” I said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”
She shrugged. “Of course, as these things go, I knew it was a mistake as soon as we got to his hotel. The picture they posted of me leaving was taken about ten minutes after I’d arrived.” She started to laugh then. “Sorry.” She held up a hand. “It’s just… the media makes me out to be a maneater some days, and a sad sack that can’t hold on to a man other days. If they knew how many of those dates were for show and how many of those men I’ve never slept with, their minds would be blown.”
“But didn’t you and Jeremy used to be a couple?”
“Yes. And that’s another reason I said yes to going out with him. If I was going to go there, at least he was safe. And I needed safe, because I was feeling pretty down and lonely. And?—”
But she stopped herself before she said more. And then we were called back to set, preventing me from asking what she had been about to say.
After some direction from the crew, we got into our first pose, me reaching up to her, her reaching down, her palm on my face.
“I’m sad you let them shave the scruff and cut off the waves,” she said. “I like you that way. It feels more you. More authentic. Less…”
“Pretty?” I asked and she laughed.
“You are still very pretty, my friend,” she said. “It’s just less styled. Less perfect.”
“Hold it there,” the photographer said. The camera clicked several times. “Next position.”
