I try to swat his hand away, but he’s too damn fast.
“Fine,” I whisper back before focusing on the piece of truffle garlic bread in front of me. Carson frowns but doesn’t push me for more details.
Thank goodness, because I cannot think about it right now. I don’t want to think about it because I’ll burst into tears about how I probably blew it with Crew. Carson only knows that I freaked out about the first kiss because I called.
My brother should know me pretty damn well, but he does to an extent. We don’t have the whole twin telepathy thing going for us, so it’s not like he can guess exactly what’s going through my brain. He’s a straight-A student with an eidetic memory, not a telepath.
“Now, Carly,” Aunt Janine begins. “What have you been up to these past two months?”
I hold back an eye roll. “Just putting myself out there,” I say just to entertain my aunt before popping another piece of bread in my mouth. “You know how the industry is.”
Bailey snorts as she sips her drink. My cousin Ellie—Bailey’s little sister—side-eyes her, while my dad, who sits on the other side of me, crosses his arms over his chest, a disapproving glare in his eyes. “Anything you want to say, Bailey?”
She hums, shaking her head of lived-in bleached blonde hair. “Nothing, Will. Just, ‘the industry.’” Her words are slightly slurred due to the speed at which she’s drinking her cocktail, but it’s obvious who she’s mimicking.
As if this girl isn’t trying to become an actress herself in that same industry. Even at my celebration, I have to keep my composure.
“I scored this internship,” I tell my family. As I start to explain what it will entail, my eyes continue to dart to Bailey, who tries to act nonchalant. I don’t know what it is, but something’s off. Tossing aside how I feel about my cousin, I know her well enough to know that her blue eyes—which are pretty identical to my own—aren’t filled with anger or animosity.
Wait a damn minute, is she…scared? Growing up, Bailey’s always been an overthinker, but this is different. She grew up worrying about the future, every little step she took, but changed drastically when she started college.
I see it—the anxiety-riddled version of Bailey, the one who yearned for love and a grasp on her life and the people she loved—for a split second before she hides it, like the actress she is.
She takes another sip, and my father says nothing more.
“We’re proud of you both,” my dad tells us, raising his glass of white wine. “To our graduates!”
Everyone raises their glasses, and for a minute, it feels great to celebrate something with them. It may not be extravagant, just a dinner, but it means so much to me.
“It’s not like film is the hardest thing in the world,” Bailey mutters through her drink, almost as quiet as a mouse.
Almost.
“Do you wanna say that again, Bails?” My voice seethes with the nickname I gave her back in childhood, eyes narrowed in her direction.
I can tolerate a lot of bullshit, but I will draw the line at putting people down because of their passions. There’s no way you can insult that and get away with it—not around me.
“Oh shit.” Carson whispers, mostly to himself.
Bailey’s eyes widen, almost as if my anger just sobered her up, but I know better.
Every little restraint holding me back disappears into thin air.
“You chose a pretty bad time to insult my career, Bailey.”
“I wasn’t insulting you,” she grumbles.
“Can you tell that to the vein popping out of your forehead?”
“Carly!” My mother, who sits to my left, scolds.
I heard her say my name, but it doesn’t register entirely in my brain. I mentally dismiss it, keeping my focus on my cousin. “Your life is going to hell, and you choose to direct all that anger towards me? Newsflash, Bails, I’m not the reason your boyfriend cheated on you. I’m not the reason you’re feeling like shit. This is all on you, and one little insult towards my career isn’t going to make you feel any better.”
My right hand feels a sudden breeze of warmth. I normally don’t pay much attention to that hand because I’m left-handed, but I know Carson is telling me to quit while I’m ahead, that we’re at dinner, and she might not remember it.
So fine, I’ll end it, but not before I—in true, theatrical fashion—deliver a final blow.
I lower my voice so that only Bailey hears me. “Just because you dated a jackass, doesn’t mean you have the absolute fucking right to act like one.”
