Still, when her mother tried to talk to her about anything involving her career, something childish and ugly was triggered inside her. Deep down, a part of her still resented being saddled with the responsibility of co-breadwinner before she’d even mastered her multiplication tables.
As a result, a yawning chasm had calcified between them over the years. Grey’s role in supporting the family had turned them into something closer to peers than mother and daughter. It would have been bearable if it manifested as polite distance, but it seemed like her mother had some lingering guilt on her side, too. As soon as Grey left the East Coast, every interaction became peppered with passive-aggressive needling about Grey’s career, her weight, her finances, or her personal life; as if she were trying to convince herself that she’d taken an active interest in the direction of Grey’s life back when it actually mattered.
“Yeah, well, you know how it is,” Grey said absently. Her mother took that as an opportunity to launch into a lengthy monologue about the finer points of planning Madison’s graduation party. This was the safest conversational zone for them, focusing on a neutral third party. Grey picked up her pace again, now that her input wasn’t required beyond the occasional murmur of assent. The second lap came easier, any residual uncertainty lingering from her breakfast with Ethan drowned out by the familiar disquietude that came from talking to her mother. That, at least, she could attempt to outrun.
Later, once she’d finished her second lap and extracted herself from the conversation, Grey found an empty bench to finish her cooldown. As she stretched out one burning quad at a time, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through Instagram. She had a notification that she’d been tagged in a post by a new fan accountthat had popped up a few weeks ago, @grethan_updates. At first, their couples moniker had made her cringe, but by now she was starting to get used to it.
The account was a painstakingly comprehensive chronicle of her and Ethan’s every move, a mixture of paparazzi shots and fan submissions. Grey wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or creeped out. Part of her was convinced that one of Audrey’s interns was behind it. She had her share of fan accounts, but the majority were focused on herPoison Paradisecharacter rather than her personal life, and they had mostly lapsed into inactivity once the show ended. When she had followed this account, their bio had been instantly updated with a breathless“Grey followed back!!!”followed by the date.
She shifted to stretch her other leg as she looked at the new tagged picture. Her stomach jolted. This picture was of her, alone, midrun, wearing the same clothes she was currently wearing. The caption read: “@greybrooksofficial jogging around the Silver Lake Reservoir,” followed by today’s date. Grey whipped her head around, trying in vain to spot the culprit. The path was deserted. She’d been running for forty-five minutes; whoever it was was likely long gone.
She abandoned her stretching and hustled back to her car, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She rested her head on her steering wheel, breathing deeply, willing her hands to stop shaking before she was ready to put the car in drive. Once the initial shock wore off, the adrenaline drained from her body and she was able to think clearly. She wasn’t in any real danger. It was probably just an overzealous fan, looking for a way to feel important. She was a public figure in a public place. This was the trade-off for her boost in profile.
Too bad her career still hadn’t gotten the memo. So far, this bargain had brought her nothing but trouble.
ETHAN NOTICED GREY’S FEET BEFOREanything else. He’d never really been a foot guy, but coming around the corner and spying her bare feet dangling off the arm of his sofa, he suddenly understood why so many perverts were trying to google them. He could easily see himself wrapping his hand around her heel, moving up the delicate indent of her ankle, past her smooth calf, up the tantalizing expanse of her thigh barely covered by her cutoff shorts.
She was sprawled on her back across his couch, nose buried in a stapled packet of paper. Based on the way her expression shifted as her eyes darted across the page, she was reading a script, marking her way through her character’s emotional arc. He forgot all about her legs as he homed in on her face, captivated by her focus. It must have been several minutes before her eyes shifted to him and she jolted, yelping in surprise.
“How long have you been standing there, you creep?” she asked, her tone playful rather than accusatory.
He evaded the question. “What is that? Your chemistry read?”
She sat up, tucking her legs beneath her and unfolding the stapled pages. “Yep. It’s in two days. I kind of can’t believe it, it feels like I’ve been waiting forever.” She looked up at him through her lashes, almost shyly. “You still down to run lines?”
Ethan shrugged. “Let’s see it.”
He moved to the other side of the sectional, grabbing the outstretched pages from Grey’s hand on his way. He settled on the sofa, a safe distance away from her. At least, as safe as he could be while still staying in the same zip code. He skimmed the pages.
“So I’m reading for…Evander?”
“You got it. Do you want some context, or does it not matter?”
“Sure.”
Grey swung her legs around again so she was sitting cross-legged, her hands moving expressively as she talked.
“Okay. So basically there’s this big fancy city—thetitularGolden City, obviously—everyone is rich and beautiful, everything is perfect, blah-blah-blah. There are a few royal families that control everything. I’m part of one, Evander’s part of one, he’s all set to marry my character and inherit everything.But,then he finds out—dun-dun-dun—that there’s this secret underclass being tortured and exploited to provide everything they have.Obviouslyhe can’t just keep living his life like everything’s fine, now that the illusion has been shattered. Classic Allegory of the Cave shit, right?
“So then there’s this gang of insurgents, the Noxins—don’t think I didn’t see that eyeroll—who are all former royal kids who have rebelled and live outside the city with the rest of the commoners, trying to bring the city down. This is the scene where Evander is trying to sneak out to join them during the big annual bacchanal or whatever, and I catch him and try to use my feminine wiles to convince him to stay.”
She dropped her hands and looked at him expectantly. His amusement must have shown on his face. “What?”
He laughed a little and shook his head. He could’ve listened to her describe that stupid book for hours. “Nothing. I like the way you tell it.”
She ducked her head down, trying to suppress her own smile. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”
Ethan glanced down at the page. “I think you have the first line.”
“Oh. Right.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back at him. “Where are you going?” Her tone was neutral. She was holding back, clearly self-conscious about running the scene with him.
He matched her deadpan line reading. “Go back to the party, Caitlin.”
“Catalin,” she corrected.
He squinted at the paper.
“Sorry. Go back to the party, Catalin.”
