Carter had the strangest sensation that maybe she’d said the wrong thing. “Adi—”
“Done,” interrupted one of the assistants. “Go get mic’d up.”
She was tempted to argue. But then she remembered where she was. What they were about to do. “Okay. See you out there.”
Adi watched her in the mirror as she turned to leave. His lips quirked into an almost-smile, but there was something in the look that worried her.
As the makeup artist and assistant turned their focus to Adi, Carter slipped into the hallway and headed toward the set where Fitzy and Louis usually introduced the upcoming round.
How unsettling this would be without the Game Master and his wry quips. Did Ranielle really think the show could be salvaged without him?
She was nearly there when a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her to the side. Her breath caught in her throat, and she opened her mouth to scream as she spun to face—
Fitzy.
“Sorry! I’m sorry!” he whispered, throwing his hands up. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
Carter pressed a hand over her rampaging heart. Fitzy dragged her behind one of the movable set pieces—a wall on wheels.
Once she could breathe again, Carter smacked his arm. “You scared the daylights out of me!”
“I’m sorry. Really.” But she could tell he was trying to stifle a laugh. “I guess I could have been more subtle. I wanted to see you before we start filming.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing. I just . . .” He glanced toward the corridor, then took Carter’s hands and pulled her farther behind the set piece. Her stomach swooped at the touch, free-falling when he didn’t immediately let go. “I was talking to Adi earlier, and our conversation got me thinking.” His blue eyes were intent as he held her gaze, his fingers curling around hers. “Two weeks from now, this season is going to be over. And as far as I know, there aren’t any rules in my contract about dating aformercontestant.”
He paused, the words hanging between them. Carter’s pulse fluttered. This close, she could smell the clean detergent scent of his shirt, the mint from his mouth. This close, she could see the tiny freckle next to his left eye that the makeup artists always tried to cover up.
“So I was wondering,” Fitzy went on, sounding both confident and nervous, “if maybe, two weeks from now, I could ask you out on a date?”
Carter’s mouth went dry. She licked her lips. Fitzy’s gaze dropped, catching the movement. Her entire body thrummed.
“I . . . I would like that,” she said. “Except . . . I’ll be going home.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “But the show will be on break until the next season. Assuming there is a next season. And I don’t have anything else going on, so it would be pretty easy to, you know. Come visit? For a bit?”
She laughed. A short hiccup of a sound.
James “Fitzy” Fitzgerald was askingherout on a date. Was offering to get on an airplane and fly across the country to see her.
A voice in her head whispered that this was preposterous. A boy like him could never like a girl like her.
She told that voice to shove it.
“I’d like that.”
His smile brightened. “Okay, then. In two weeks, expect my call.”
“I will.”
He beamed at her and she beamed at him, and she was so grateful for that fake wall because if anyone saw them in that moment, holding hands and grinning like dopey cartoon characters, she never could have lived it down. But in that moment, she didn’t care.
This boy liked her. Of all the boys,thisone liked her. More than that, he understood her. He knew what it was like to play a part for the cameras. To hide behind a persona. To feel like you could never show your authentic, ridiculous self to the world.
Somehow, she knew she could show her ridiculous self to him.
“Guess we should probably . . .” Fitzy jerked his head toward the corridor. “You know. Before they send a search party.”
