"Three!" an influencer at the front calls just as the platform shifts under our weight. "Two!... One!"
As if on cue, everyone stands a little straighter, smiles just a bit wider. Thirty influencers balanced on a surface that feels flimsier than a Highlight trend. I raise a hand, signaling I’m here. Not hiding, not spiraling, not canceled. Yet.
"Introducing Glimmer and Glow’s newest brand ambassadors!" booms from the front.
Elbows fly as people jockey for the best angle.
Belle leans in, whispering, "Do you think this thing’s actually gonna hold all of us?"
My heart skips. I bend and tap the platform with a manicured nail. It flexes under the pressure. Dread pools in my stomach. This isn’t glass, it’s plastic.
"It’s not going to hold," I murmur, straightening.
"Should we make a run for it?" Belle looks at me helplessly.
"Unless you want a free dip," I say, stepping off the flimsy cover onto solid ground. Belle follows. Smart.
I scan for someone to warn, but before I can shout, there’s a scream, then gasps, then chaos. The platform caves, plunging half the crowd—designer gowns, extensions, and egos—straight into the pool. A Glimmer and Glow employee rushes over, phone in hand.
"You have got to be kidding me," Belle mutters, arms crossed beside me.
Before I can even process it, another Glimmer and Glow rep jumps into the frame, grinning at the camera. "Our new line is one hundred percent waterproof!" they announce, gesturing to the drenched crowd clawing out of the pool.
They planned this.
I’m not even sure why I’m surprised.
Belle tugs at my sleeve, and I hear a small tear. She holds up a scrap of fabric, my carefully constructed image unraveling one stitch at a time.
"Trust me," she says.
Then, she whips out a tiny sewing kit and stitches in exaggerated strokes.
"Wardrobe malfunction!" she exclaims just as a camera light swings our way. Of course. When Belle’s not cooking, she’s sewing. Making a scene is second nature to her.
I catch sight of the lens, knowing we’re live to hundreds of thousands of viewers from their couches, beds, and probably even a few toilets.
"Wardrobe malfunction," I echo, cheeks hot. I’ve just been drafted into her act.
"All done!" Belle sings, patting my shoulder with a wink. "Did we miss anything?"
"Only the best publicity stunt ever!" Lyla appears, dripping wet, hair plastered to her shoulders. "Glimmer and Glow’s waterproof mascara is absolutely flawless!"
"And my lips!" Sierra squeals, stepping up beside her to address the camera. "I’ve been eating, drinking, and now swimming. The color hasn’t budged!"
Belle and I exchange a look, neither of us amused by the surprising stunt. Then, we’re elbowed to the back of the crowd once more as influencers swarm the camera.
"Thanks," I whisper to Belle. "I would’ve never guessed it was all staged."
"You did the right thing," she says gently. "You tried to prevent a disaster by getting off that platform."
"Except it wasn’t a disaster. It was a setup."
She gives me a small smile, one full of empathy. "Not everyone’s chasing the same five seconds of fame, sweetheart. You and me? We’re not like them."
I want to say I am like them, that this life is all I’ve ever wanted. But if I’m honest, keeping up with these girls, this world, is a lot more exhausting than I let on.
"You’ll send me that collab info?" I ask, pulling my phone from my purse.
