Natalie snorts. “That's not confidence. That's a master class in seduction. The man's got game.”
As if to prove Natalie's point, Brandon brushes a strand of hair away from the blonde's face while listening intently to whatever she's saying. The gesture is so smooth and natural that she melts into it, and I can see the other women watching, waiting for their turn to have his attention.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, more to myself than to Natalie.
“What is?” Natalie asks.
I gesture toward Brandon and his fan club. “This whole confidence lesson thing. Look at them.” A blonde in a red dress tosses her hair back as she laughs at something he said, leaning in closer with each exchange. Another woman touches his arm while making a point, completely at ease in her own skin. “They just walk up and start conversations like it's nothing. They're flirty and natural and completely comfortable. Meanwhile, I freeze up every time I see Mason in the hallway.”
“Maybe you're overthinking it,” Natalie suggests. “What if you just talked to Mason the way you talk to everyone else?”
“But that's the problem!” I say, my frustration building. “I can't just be Stella around guys I'm attracted to. Stella is boring. Stella blends into the wallpaper. Stella needs to learn how to be…” I wave my hand toward the group of gorgeous women surrounding Brandon. “Like that.”
Before Natalie can respond, I spot a tall guy with sandy brown hair and an easy smile standing by the bar. He's attractive in that clean-cut, approachable way and definitely someone I can practice on without feeling completely intimidated.
I decide it's time to put Brandon's lessons into action. “Be right back,” I tell Natalie.
I take a deep breath and channel every confident woman I've ever seen in a movie. “Hi there,” I say, walking up to the unsuspecting guy. “I'm Stella. Great party, right?”
He looks genuinely pleased by the approach, though something flickers across his face that I can't quite read. “David,” he replies. “It really is. Are you part of the production?”
“No, I'm here with friends. I'm a talent agent.” So far, so good. I remember Brandon saying confident women use their environment, so I casually lean back against the bar like I've seen actresses do in films. Except my elbow slides right off the edge, sending my entire body lurching sideways into the person next to me.
“Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!” I grab wildly to steady their martini, which sloshes dangerously but doesn't spill. The woman gives me a look that could freeze lava.
“Are you…okay?” David asks. His eyebrows have climbed toward his hairline.
“Totally fine! Just, you know, gravity.” I laugh too loudly. “What about you? Do you work in the industry?”
“Film editor. I worked on this one, actually.” He gestures at the party around us, taking a small step back. “It's always surreal seeing the final product after spending months in the editing bay.”
“That must be so satisfying, though, seeing everything come together.” Brandon said eye contact was key, so I lock my gaze onto David's face with laser focus. I'm going to nail this part.
After about ten seconds of my unblinking stare, David reaches up and touches his cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No! No, you're perfect. I mean, your face is fine. Clean.” Oh, God. “I was just listening. You're very interesting.”
He looks uncertain. “O-kay. Well, I was saying there's something magical about finding the perfect cut that makes a scene come alive.”
I catch movement in my peripheral vision. Brandon's across the patio with Jake, and when he notices me talking to David, he gives me what I think is an encouraging nod. This gives me the confidence boost I need to try his casual touching technique.
I reach out to touch David's arm while he's talking, but my timing is spectacularly off. He's mid-gesture, bringing his drink to his lips, and my hand collides with his elbow just as the glass reaches his mouth.
Beer splashes across his chin and down his shirt.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” I grab napkins from the bar, frantically dabbing at his shirt while he stands there in shock. “I'm so sorry! I don't know why I did that!”
“It's okay,” he says, gently taking the napkins from me before I can cause more damage. “Really.”
But I can see in his eyes that he's starting to wonder if I'm having some kind of medical episode.
“You know what?” I say, my voice somehow choosing this moment to drop into what I think is a sultry register but sounds more like I've been chain smoking for twenty years. “I'd love to hear more about it. Would you maybe want to get coffee sometime this week?”
David freezes, a napkin halfway to his damp shirt, staring at me like he's trying to solve a puzzle. “Oh, um.”
The silence stretches just long enough for panic to set in.
“Or dinner!” I blurt out. “Or lunch! Or really any meal. I'm very flexible about meals. Very accommodating. Food-wise.”
