“I took a risk and accepted Declan’s invitation, knowing I’d be lucky if I got a hello and a hug. He was so mobbed, there were so many people at the party.”
I only saw him from across the room, surrounded by gorgeous women and football bros, before I signed the guest book and dipped out of there like a melting ice cream cone.
“But you’ve stayed in touch,” Etta Jo asks.
“By text.”
Absorbed by the game and lit by the stadium lights, text messaging seems safest. Because if there is one thing I’ve had to protect myself from, it’s the spotlight. Even by proxy. Plus, there is the fear that under the pressure of fame and fortune, he’s changed. I’m afraid to witness it in real-time, so a text-based relationship seems like the obvious solution. Over the years in Hollywood, I’d seen that scenario play out enough times, and didn’t want to lose what we had.
The girls look at me as if waiting for me to explain.
“When Declan got drafted, I knew our friendship would take a hit, but I wanted what’s best for him. That’s what friends do, right?”
“Sounds like love to me. Just saying,” Etta Jo says.
“Just friends,” I sing-song. “I thought you had to work?” I ask Giselle.
“More like work the football field. I want a football player, too.” Etta Jo pouts.
“I don’t have a football player. I have a best friend.” I take another big bite of a chip with a double scoop of frosting as a hedge against further questioning, even though my teeth feel itchy. The tag on my shirt pokes into my skin. Maybe I’ve had too much chocolate (is such a thing possible?) or perhaps the discomfort I suddenly feel has something to do with the conversation. I shift as if trying to edge away from these unknown and unnamed emotions.
Etta Jo pours more chips into the bowl. “Okay, if Maggie won’t share some juicy stories, the mic is yours, Giselle.”
She’s completely immune to Giselle’s magically sensational love life and seems quite content with her own, but there’s no denying we’re both mystified by how she always seems to find herself in the right place at the right time.
“Well, Garrison Wheeler and I met at table number nine.” Giselle practically swoons.
The thing is, Giselle always swoons, but the relationships never last. What do I want? Don’t laugh or judge. I want a Cinderella romance—minus the family drama. I’ve had enough of that already.
Etta Jo playfully rolls her eyes as if to say,Stock up on tissues, everyone, in about a week,girlfriend will have her heart broken.
My woes, along with Declan, mostly forgotten, we discuss Giselle’s love life. Etta Jo doesn’t know the full story about howI feel about the rich and famous—not even Declan knows why I keep my distance from fame and fortune. But she is aware that I’m not interested in bling, but in the unbroken circle of the ring and what it symbolizes—a long-term, meaningful relationship. I’ll take the fairytale romance, but not necessarily with an actual prince, because renown and recognition eventually bring trouble, which I know firsthand.
“Giselle, does that mean you quit your job?” Etta Jo asks. “Big day. Maggie did too.”
“I didn’t quit, I resigned,” I correct because I can’t stomach the idea of being a quitter and repeatedly failing, even though it’s my recent reality.
Giselle shakes her head. “I didn’t quit either. I have a shift tonight.”
“You weren’t fired for taking off with a football player?” I wonder if Declan knows Garrison Wheeler.
“No, my boss is a Riptide super fan. I got her a bunch of merch and that did the trick. She was very understanding, probably hoping that free tickets to a game come next.” Giselle coyly lifts and lowers one shoulder. “She said she would’ve done the same thing.”
“Giselle has the best luck,” Etta Jo mutters, then gives her roommate a recap of what happened to Cinderella at the fountain—aka me—who has the worst luck lately.
Giselle wrinkles her nose in a way that makes me think she saw the footage on the internet but didn’t recognize me. “How awful. I’m sorry that happened. But if you need a job, my cousin is hiring.”
Knowing Giselle, it’s probably something wacky—lion tamer, rare stamp collector, door-to-door dog food salesperson.
“My cousin’s pride and joy is the Blancbourg Academy d’Etiquette in Concordia?—”
“Sounds fancy,” Etta Jo says.
“The school specializes in image consulting, public relations, and social skills commonly known as etiquette. She recently expanded to include digital etiquette, but includes the classics too, like dining etiquette, social skills, and both traditional and modern manners.”
“Like a finishing school for debutantes?” Etta Jo asks.
“More like celebrities and other high-profile figures. Her clients include baboons and cavemen, mostly.”
