She inhales a broken breath, clearing a hitch from her throat and flattening down her pieces of hair sticking up from my roving fingers. “Did you want to grab lunch?” she asks.
I blink, the question barely registering through the heady smog. “Yeah,” I mutter. “Sure.”
Taking her hand in mine, we stroll down the sidewalk to the limo in silence.If anyone was watching right now, they wouldn’t second-guess our connection. The flush on her cheeks, the glaze in my eyes. The way our hands link, our bodies fusing together with each rhythmic step.
That’s the thing though.
No one is watching.
Chapter 32
Stevie
Lex’s costar Willa Farrow is hosting a postpremiere party at a local club to keep the buzz alive for the hit series as it maintains its place at number one.
Meanwhile, I’m a nervous wreck.
We’ve done this before—been in the spotlight, all dolled up, hanging on to each other for the cameras to catch. But something heavier lingers in the air tonight. Unfinished business, unsaid things. A heady tension hovers between us, one that has my hands sweating and my belly swirling with anxiety.
A crowd outside the venue goes wild when we step out of the limo, Lex’s hand in mine, our opposite hands lifted in a wave. We both grin wide, and I manage to stay on my stilettoed feet as the camera flashes blind me and translucent strobes send all five senses into a tizzy.
Lex leans in to whisper in my ear, his smile still in place. “Are you about to fall?”
He gives my hand a squeeze, his cologne wafting under my nose, and I refuse to dredge up any double meaning. “Nope. Perfectly stable.”
“Good.”
We slip inside the main doors, landing in a darkly lit club where music pounds and multicolored lights paint rainbows on white linen tablecloths. Lex is greeted instantly, producers and supporting castmates worming their way into his bubble with high fives and handshakes. I harness the smile, flashingmy teeth and making introductions, while Lex’s hand is never far—laced with mine, skimming up my spine, tenderly squeezing the back of my neck.
I wander away and snatch a flute of champagne off the buffet table strewn with hors d’oeuvres: miniature quiches, shrimp cocktail, and delicate pastries dusted with powdered sugar. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the buzz of mingled conversations, the room electric and alive, charged with the energy of the industry’s elite.
“I love your dress.”
Whirling around, I lock eyes with the stunning Willa Farrow. Her jade eyes gleam, her hair is pulled up into a slicked-back bun, and she’s wearing a formfitting, knee-length cream dress with a heart-shaped corset. It’s paired with a necklace that catches my breath—a lacework motif of white gold and dazzling diamonds, resembling the one Nicole Kidman wore in the film version ofMoulin Rouge!She’s beautiful, and I’m momentarily captivated by the woman who played the role of me.
“Oh…thank you. Your necklace is incredible.” I’m definitely staring at her boobs, but I guess that’s the point.
“Thanks.” Scarlet lips curve up with a smile as she fiddles with the gem-studded pendant hovering above her cleavage. “It’s a little braggadocious.”
I take a sip of champagne, the bubbles fizzing on my tongue. I’m showcasing my whimsy-goth vibe tonight, a blend of ethereal and dramatic, featuring a deep, inky velvet bodice that cinches at the waist before flowing into a voluminous skirt. It’s a cascade of layered tulle in shades of midnight blue and deep purple, giving the illusion of a swirling night sky.
The goal was to stand out, to wear something different and bold, but standing beside Willa makes me feel like a mere face in the crowd.
“Did you like the show?” Willa inquires, reaching for a glass and fingering the stem. “I’ve been meaning to chat with you. You were so busy at the gala, I didn’t want to interrupt.”
That’s a loaded question.
All I manage is a soft “I did.”
“Thank God.” She chuckles lightly, her lips leaving a red kiss on the rim of her flute. “I was a little nervous to meet you. It’s a lot of pressure, you know? Itwas easier when I didn’t have a face to put to the name and I could kind of just do my thing. But you’re a real person, so…” She pops her shoulders, looking shy. “I don’t know. I hope I lived up to your expectations.”
Her tone is soft, her expression candid. She’s genuinely looking for my feedback, hoping she did the role justice. “You were fantastic. No complaints.”
“Oh good. Lex gave me a little direction, so I hope the honesty came through.”
Curiosity niggles. “What direction exactly? If you don’t mind me prying.”
“He said you were kind. Wholesome…I think that was the word he used. He wanted to make sure I harnessed empathy and made the character really relatable. He also said you were supremely talented—dramatically and vocally—so filming those high school scenes with the stage play were a bit intimidating.”
