Page 89 of Camera Shy

She melts under that nickname. I love it when the color fills her cheeks when she swoons for me.

“That head? Ten out of ten, baby.”

With that, I leave her to her call, feeling a medley of new emotions at once: satisfied…hopeful…happy…ready.

I’m ready for this.

23

Avery

I thought a virtual morning coffee date with my best friend would be a good idea. Sassiness aside, I miss her. She’s more family than friend, and this is the longest we’ve gone without talking in at least a decade. But the problem with very long-term friendships is that sometimes you’ve excused the bad behavior for so long, you almost don’t recognize it.

“Palmer,” I say, staring at the side of her face, her eyes clearly on her phone off screen as she’s texting. “Do you need to go?”

“One sec,” she mumbles and I hear her pecking away at her phone. Whomever she’s messaging must be getting an earful.

“Because I can call you back.” She’s been ignoring me for at least five minutes now. I thought a face-to-face conversation might help us connect.

“Just one sec.”

Over the past month, I’ve been spending all my free time with Finn—okay, under Finn—and with Lennox. It’s never this complicated with them. I never have to beg for eye contact or their attention. Why does Palmer treat me this way when it’d be so easy to be decent to me? Why do we trample on the ones we love? I’m almost bothered that my new friends are unintentionally pointing out the glaring issues in my oldest friendship.

I wait another two minutes before I inform her, “Okay then. I’ll try and catch you another time when you’re—”

“There,” she grumbles. She puts her phone down and faces me head-on. She adjusts her iPad, realizing she was only in half of the frame this entire time. “So sensitive. It was a work thing. Sorry, there’s drama going on and it’s stressing me the fuck out. Some girl is trying to get me fired.”

And here is the quintessential problem with my relationship with Palmer. Instinctively, I’m too protective and overly concerned. I can complain about her obnoxious nuances, but I’m the only one who can. Because I love her. Because I always have her best intentions at heart. And while I have to gently remind her, almost daily, how not to be a shit friend, nobody threatens Palmer. I become a bulldog with a big bark when it comes to my best friend.

“Who? And why?”

“The director’s assistant. It’s fucking ridiculous. Jealous bitch. I think she wanted to be considered for my role, but instead, she’s basically a glorified stagehand.” Palmer twists open a bottle of water and takes a hurried sip. “She even asked me for acting advice once. Can you believe that? Then she wants to stab me in the back by whining to the director when I’m late—I mean once. I was late once. Well, twice, but the other time I was sick, so that’s not my fault.”

I wrap my hands tightly around my jumbo novelty mug, which was a gag gift from Finn. It must be for soup because I’m certain it holds at least twenty-four ounces. He proudly showed up at my door one morning with this giant black mug with hot pink writing that reads: I had great sex in Las Vegas. He told me it made him think of me while he was at the store and he left with a snicker.

Needless to say, it’s now my favorite mug in the world. I smile into my cup as I ask Palmer, “Why would she be so devious after you helped her?”

“Helped her what?” Palmer snaps.

I swallow my sip of over-the-top sweet coffee. “You said you gave her advice…”

Palmer snorts. “No, I said she asked for advice. What I told her was to lose twenty pounds, save up ten grand, and buy herself a set of tits.”

I inhale and blow out a breath, debating whether this is even my battle to fight. “Should you say that kind of thing to people? You probably pissed her off and now she’s out to get you. Not everyone understands your humor.”

She raises one brow at me. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

Oh for the love of God. “I seriously doubt one grudge can get you fired from a role. How many episodes have you filmed now?”

“Five. And rumor has it, we’re about to be picked up by a big streaming network. I’m not technically allowed to say who, but if you can read between the lines, it’s Net—” She silently flicks the air in front of the screen.

Clever. “Really? That’s amazing.” I drop my jaw and force my eyes into wide, enthusiastic circles. “Why aren’t you more excited?” I click my manicured nails against the side of my mug and it apparently captures Palmer’s attention. She leans closer to the screen, peering at my nails.

“Are you wearing acrylic? You hate acrylics.”

“No, it’s actually this hybrid dip thing. My friend Lennox recommended it.” That’s quite literally my best description. Lennox and I went to the salon and all I know is this is somewhere between gel polish and acrylic, except it’s vegan, cruelty-free, and smells like pears. I examine my mint green nails, which are the color Finn suggested when he saw me off to my day date with Lennox a couple of days ago. And by suggested I mean he pulled me into his chest and whispered in my ear that my hand decorated in green would look beautiful wrapped around his cock.

“Who the hell is Lennox?”

---