“You’re not supposedto look at the cameras,” I remind Lily for the umpteenth time. She’s trying to ignore Ben and Brett as they film us from two different angles, but I can tell they make her uneasy.
At least without Loren around.
Her boyfriend seems to take her mind off of everything else, melting her nerves to a placated pool.
Lily tags along by my side as I bustle around the kitchen and make a Cobb salad to bring with me to the Calloway Couture offices. I try not to overanalyze why she’s become glued to my hip.
She leans in to whisper, “What if I have a booger or something in my nose?” Her eyes flit anxiously to the lens again. “Or what if I get sauce or cheese or peanut butter all over my face? I’m a messy eater. Are they going to use the footage?”
I set the carrots on the counter and when I turn around, I almost bump into her again. She steps back and I place my hands on her shoulders.
“I don’t have any control over editing,” I tell her foranotherumpteenthtime. I also want to tell her that she doesn’t have to do this. That if she wants out of the show, I’ll be okay. I’ll be happy.
But that’s not the complete truth.
The success of Calloway Couture relies on this show, and the success of the show relies on Lily and Loren.
“I’m going to get over it,” she tells me, reading my expression well. “It’s just new. New things are always kind ofscary, you know? Well, you probably don’t know.” She laughs nervously. “You’re not scared of anything.”
That’s not true either. I was scared not long ago. Terrified. Someone—who I will not name—put his thumb in my mouth. And I think I liked it.
My phone buzzes on the counter, and I wipe my hands on a towel before I swipe the screen. I have two new texts.
The first:
5 months and 20 days until the wedding– Mom
I’m not even surprised at this point. I receive a daily countdown from her, reminding me that I’ve taken responsibility of planning Lily’s wedding.
I open the second text to distract me from all the things I still have to do.
Prince Charming, Robin Hood, Beast –Connor
Really? I texted him three brilliant female authors and he gives me Disney characters to choose from? Oh, he’s starting a war.
I type quickly, not even having to think twice about my choices.Kill. Marry. Fuck.
Less than a minute after I hit send, I receive another message.
You would fuck the Beast over Robin Hood? Explain.
You’re not even going to mention me killing Prince Charming?
Deflection in a text is my specialty.
Not surprising. I would kill Prince Charming as well. Always believing every girl needs to be rescued from a tower. He’s an asshat.
I smile, my stomach fluttering at his words.
“Is that Connor?” Lily asks, eyeing my smile suspiciously.
My lips level and she peers over my shoulder to try and read the text. I hold it close to my chest, and her eyes twinkle in amusement.
“Are you texting naughty things?” she asks with glee.
Should I be?What couple texts about killing off Prince Charming? If I seriously evaluate my relationship with Connor, it will rank somewhere closer to strange than normal.
My phone buzzes again, but I don’t pull it away from the security of my blouse. “What do you and Lo text about?”
