Baby Riff Hurley SLAPS
@infinitephreak1 day ago
How did we miss this era of his? Bring it back!
@LTR-bro2 days ago
never been a riff fan but I think he’s won me over
Take Me to the Beach
HARMONY
IfIheartheword “showmance” one more time I’m going to scream. And I think my PR team feels the same (although it only hurts because it’s true).
Because of all the negative speculation, the label puts a brief hold on the production of “Hate to Love,” which is great because I’ve been avoiding it like day-old sushi anyway.
But then Stefanie briefs me on a new plan, and suddenly I’m longing for last week when the worst part of my day was trying to come up with loving lyrics about Riff that didn’t reek of the embarrassing truth of what I’ve begun to feel.
“So far, you’ve only appeared together in public, at big events,” she tells me. “That’s part of what makes the whole thing look suspicious. It looks like you’re specifically targeting opportunities where there will be a lot of witnesses. Also, some people are saying that the kiss at daXx’s birthday was too abrupt and dramatic to be real.”
Her mention of that kiss makes my insides churn. As if it wasn’t bad enough being a prop to make Mikayla jealous, everyone else within viewing distance saw it too.
“I don’t know what they want,” I argue. “If we’re not touchy enough, we must be faking it; if we PDA, we must be faking it. There’s no winning here.”
Likewise, when I’m not touching him, it’s torture, I think.When I am touching him, it’s also torture.
“Right,” Stefanie says. “Which means we need to pivot. The obvious solution is to stage a date that looks like it was intended to be private. PR has made arrangements with one of Glambam’s executives who owns a private strip of beach in Malibu—the perfect spot for a romantic afternoon—and it just so happens to be situated below some verynon-private bluffs overlooking the water.”
“‘Non-private’ as in … a photographer with a telephoto lens could conveniently get shots of us doing—”
“Doing whatever it is a real couple would be doing, yes. I mean, within reason, of course. Not that that’s been an issue.” She scoffs. “It’s been like pulling teeth to get you two to do anything. I figured your little public makeout session would have broken the ice, but I swear you two are worse than before.”
Not sure I’d call it a makeout session, although I struggle not to think about the long first part of the kiss, then the brief give-and-take that happened after. Or the way he touched his forehead to mine for an instant at the end.
I shudder and take a deep breath, which I’m sure comes off as disgust.
Stefanie clicks her tongue. “God, you’re so melodramatic. ‘Oh no, I have to kiss and canoodle a handsome, famous man—how repulsive!’”
“It’s not like that,” I snap.
“What—you mean you truly, honestly hate him? Come on.”
Idon’thate him. That’s the problem.
“It’s complicated.”
“Well, that’s show business. The beach date is on your calendar. It’s happening this Friday at four p.m. Wear your favorite swimsuit under a cute spring outfit; PR will provide the rest.”
It turns out “the rest” means beach chairs, an umbrella, a YETI cooler full of drinks and appetizers, blankets, a portable campfire, full wetsuits, a pair of surfboards waxed and ready to go—this makes me nervous because I’ve never surfed once in my life, but I’m guessing it will only be for show—and a photographer hired by the label.
I thought they were just going to tip off the paparazzi, but maybe it gives us better media control to use someone close to us. The tabloids won’t know the difference when the guy sells them the photos, and the fans definitely won’t have any clue.
The label has also hired a car to deliver me. When I step out onto the bluff, Riff is already there, his own transportation backing away as he glances over and gives me a nod of solidarity.
He wears Ralph Lauren board shorts, a crisp white t-shirt that makes him look tan, Ray-Ban aviators, and Olukai Mea Ola sandals.
Under my denim shorts and flowy top, I’m wearing a one-piece swimsuit. I’m not trying to hide my body, exactly, but, 1) I’m not in the mood to be even more half naked in front of Riff today, and 2) I’m also not in the mood to have tabloids picking at my belly fat because my waistband is pressing against my hips or because I bend while sitting and get a roll at the waist. Like, God forbid I be human.
