He presses his lips together and nods, but says nothing.
Give him space.
If our roles were reversed, I’d want time to process before talking.
We stand in silence as Kali’s broadcast starts. It’s kind of flat, the stage overpowering the quiet girl, and Preston says as much.
Becauseof coursehe does.
A muscle in Devin’s jaw tics, probably because he’s wondering what kind of shit Preston said about his performance, and my irritation with the platinum-haired douche canoe grows.
When it’s finally Preston’s turn, he struts onto the set like he owns the place.
Entitled prick.
“I hope he chokes on his mic,” I mutter, earning a quiet laugh from Kali.
Preston’s performance is fine, but it’s clear football isn’t his first love. The guy would probably be way more comfortable recapping a regatta or some yuppie sport like polo.
Before I know it, it’s my turn.
I take my place behind the massive desk and adjust the height of the chair so I don’t look like a Munchkin peering over the shiny black surface.
The producer clips a mic to my jacket and I realize just how ridiculous it was to wish Preston would choke on the damn thing.
Amateur.
“We need a quick soundcheck and then you’re good to go,” she says, stepping back. “Speak into the mic. It doesn’t matter what you say.”
“Preston es basura.”
“Sí.” She gives me a thumbs up and judging by her knowing grin, she probably has a few Spanish lessons under her belt.
The producer leaves the set and I shift my attention to the cameraman, who’s messing with his lens. The lights are hot and sweat pools between my breasts as I wait for him to count it down like he’s done with the others.
It’s weird being on the set and staring out into the darkness.
I thought I’d be excited, but I just feel…numb.
Because you’re exhausted.
The last few weeks have been a whirlwind, and I haven’t been getting much sleep.
But no, that’s not fair. I slept like the dead last night, Devin’s body keeping me warm and toasty all night long, the sound of his soft, steady breath more relaxing than white noise could ever be.
He’s out there watching me right now, a shadow in the dark. And even though he’s disappointed in his performance, I know he’s rooting for me. That’s just the kind of person he is. He doesn’t need to tear someone else down to build himself up.
The world could use more people like him.
And Preston’s done his best to prove it today.
The cameraman raises his hand, signaling the start of filming.
Three. Two. One.
I smile as words appear on the teleprompter.
“Good afternoon, Sports Stream fans. I’m Sutton Cruz and this week I’m filling in for your regular host, Jessica Sanders, while she’s on vacation.”
