People eyed us from across the room, the buzz of recognition spreading like wildfire. I could hear the murmurs: “There’s Eva Montgomery,” followed by “And that’s Lex, her girlfriend!”
Even though we’d been publicly out for months now, this was our first media event together. There was something difficult to describe about seeing the recognition of our relationship reflected back in the eyes of fans.
I let out a breath, trying to shake off the nerves.
“It’s going to be fine,” Eva assured me. Her fingers squeezed mine, and I glanced at her, finding that usual confidence reflected in her honey light eyes.
“Yeah,” I murmured, swallowing the lump in my throat. “We’ve got this.”
We sat down at a table covered with glossy promotional materials. Pens, posters, and branded merchandise were scattered in front of us. Eva leaned forward in her chair, her elbows resting on the table, eyes scanning the crowd. She was a pro at this, and I knew she could turn it on with a smile.
The first fan stepped forward—a young woman holding a replica of Eva’s Chicago jersey. I could see the awe in her eyes and the energy in her posture as she handed the memento for Eva to sign. Eva was warm, gracious, every inch the superstar, as she scrawled her autograph across the fabric. Even when we hadn’t been each other’s biggest fans, I’d still been impressed at how effortlessly she could switch into this public persona: always kind, always poised.
I followed her lead and smiled at the next person in line—an older woman holding a photo of me from my rookie season.
She slid the glossy photo across the table, her hands trembling just enough that I noticed.
“I’ve been following you since you were drafted,” she said, voice soft but certain. “You’ve come a long way.”
Something in my chest loosened. “Thank you,” I said, uncapping the pen. I signed my name slowly, the way I’d been told to—big enough to read, small enough to fit in a frame.
More fans filtered in, and the rhythm set in: smile, sign, make eye contact, say thank you. Over and over. The heat from the lights overhead made the air feel heavier, and the din of voices seemed to swell every time someone new spotted Eva.
A teenage boy approached next, phone already out, his gaze darting between the two of us. “Can I get a picture of you guys? Together?” he asked.
Eva’s eyes flicked toward me, a silent question. My first instinct was to say no—that protective reflex to keep what was ours from being reduced to a hashtag—but the hope in his face disarmed me.
“Sure,” I said before I could overthink it.
We leaned in, her shoulder pressed to mine, the faint scent of her perfume cutting through the noise. And just like that, the moment belonged to someone else.
“Thanks! You guys are awesome,” he said, darting away into the crowd.
I caught Eva’s smirk out of the corner of my eye. “Told you it’d be fine,” she murmured, low enough for only me to hear.
I smiled back, but the truth was,finewas a moving target—and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep hitting it.
The bathroom mirrorwasn’t flattering under the harsh overhead lights. My reflection stared back at me, sharp lines and contours, every imperfection emphasized by layers of foundation and bronzer. I scrubbed at my face with one of the fancy cleansing oils Eva swore by.
Nothing.
I leaned over the sink, gripping its edges.I’m going to be stuck like this.
Parents always warned their kids not to make funny faces unless they wanted their faces stuck like that. Maybe this makeup should have come with a similar warning.
“Babe?” I called out, eyes still locked on my reflection.
Eva’s disembodied voice floated in from the living room. “Yes?”
“Is there some trick to this makeup?” I tried to sound normal, but a definite hint of panic had started to creep in.
Her shadow filled the bathroom doorway before she stepped inside. “Trick?” She tilted her head, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
“It won’t come off.”
Her mouth twitched like she was fighting a laugh, but concern eventually won out. She crossed the room in one long stride and reached for my chin. “Let me see.”
Her frown deepened as she examined my face. “Oh no. They must have used the permanent stuff on you.”
