“And did you give Callan a copy?”
It was a rightful question. “Yes, I did. He said he’d read it.”
“I want to know what he thinks of it. Not that I ever care about a man’s opinion, but, you know, after the way he treated you, he at least owes you that much.”
I smiled gently, lowering my gaze to my hands on the table. “I actually talked to him about what happened.”
“You did? Oh my god, tell me!”
I looked at her again and took a deep breath. “We went to the grocery store two days ago, and there was this weird tension between us. We walked down the aisles, pretending everything was fine, then he just turned to me and asked if we were ‘cool.’” I made air quotes with my fingers, the gesture feeling as ridiculous as the word had sounded. “And that basically opened the door to a whole conversation I didn’t want to have in the grocery store.”
“Please tell me you didn’t have a public breakdown.”
“I didn’t. He kept asking what he did wrong, and the crazy part was, he actually seemed to want to know. He wasn’t just asking to make me feel better. And when I finally told him how I felt about the whole thing, he apologized. Like, a real, grown-up apology. Not some mumbled excuse or an ego-filled ‘my bad.’ He looked me right in the eye and said he knew he messed up and that he was sorry.”
Holland blinked, looking astonished. “Wow. Okay. That’s…not what I was expecting.”
“Me neither,” I muttered. “For a second, I almost didn’t know how to respond. I was still so hurt, and I wasn’t about to just let it go. So I told him and didn’t sugarcoat it. I told him it wasn’t just about him leaving, it was about the dinner and the observatory and making me feel like I mattered before making me feel like I was nothing.”
“What did he do when you said that?” she asked, leaning forward, fully invested.
“He took it,” I said with a shrug. “He just stood there and took every word. He didn’t get defensive. He didn’t try to flip it around and make it about me being too sensitive. He didn’t interrupt or make excuses. He just listened, and when I was done, he said I was right.”
Holland crossed her arms on the table as she kept studying me. “And how does that make you feel? Honestly.”
I let out a long, slow breath, the weight of it all settling back on my shoulders. “I don’t know yet. It’s…confusing. A part of me is glad he finally said it, that he acknowledged it. But the other part of me is still standing in that room feeling like an idiot. I’m not ready to just act like everything’s fine. He hurt me, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. Still, words are easy. I need to see if his actions are actually going to match them.”
Holland nodded slowly, then her eyes widened. “Wait, so…are you saying you’re still going to be his fluffer?”
I pursed my lips and thought about her question for a while. “When he apologized, I felt that power again. You know, me being in control over my body. Maybe that’s what I need. To prove to myself that I can do something without letting my heart take over. That I can keep it professional, the way we agreed.”
A small smirk curled at her lips. “You like it. Oh my god, you totally enjoy giving blowjobs.”
And I also liked the sex we’ve had, but I didn’t want that with him anymore. At least not until I could be a hundred percent sure I wouldn’t let my feelings get involved. “I just feel like it could be good for me. For my self-esteem.”
“Totally,” she agreed with a nod. “I stand behind you here, Lana. But you have to promise me something.” She reached out over the table and grabbed my hands. “If you feel like it’s not working out for you, you stop, okay? I don’t want you to hurt.”
I smiled and squeezed her hands. “Okay. Promise.”
***
I got home around four, and Callan already had people over again. I saw Madison and Trey in the filming room as I passed by, my head down, not really wanting to make eyecontact with anyone. I headed straight for the kitchen instead. I wanted to get a drink before crawling into bed with a movie and staying out of everyone’s way.
Opening the fridge, I grabbed a can of Pepsi, then filled a glass with crushed ice before adding the drink. My stomach was still full from all the food I’d eaten earlier, and it felt good to do something calm after spending all day talking and laughing with Holland.
Heels clicked across the tile a moment later, and I looked up from the counter to see who it was. Kira walked into the kitchen wearing her heels and a tight little dress. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, and she looked as pretty as always. The only thing that made me want to scrunch my nose was her expression. She always looked like she was about to say something mean, which, to my disappointment, she soon did.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, acting like she wasn’t the actual houseguest here. “The little fluffer.”
I didn’t react. I threw the empty can into the trash and picked up my glass to take a sip. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but she kept going, snapping at me unprovoked.
“Did you know that fluffers are seen as being sluttier than porn stars? I mean, really. We at least get paid for sucking dick.”
I sighed but kept my face blank. I had no intention of letting her words sink under my skin. She wanted a rise out of me, and hadn’t I known that, I probably would’ve fallen for it.
When I didn’t even look at her, she scoffed. “You know everyone talks about it, right? You coming around here like you’re something special. But all you are is—”
“Kira.”
