Page 54 of Sizzle Reel

But as we sink back into watching TV, Romy starts making comments. I join in, stowing away my phone and all my lingering worries about Valeria. Everything is okay for a few hours as we lie there, fully seen and known by each other.

chapter fourteen

The next day, Romy and I reject Wyatt’s invite to a party near his family’s home in Malibu to, of all things, write in the minicourtyard in our apartment complex in the early sunshine. It’s certainly not a bougie SoCal day rager, but the courtyard’s got nice chairs and grass that’s not completely dead and a little firepit that’d work if we bought logs. It’s also one of Romy’s and my places. I’ve always appreciated the way we accumulate these locations. Each one is like a little locked diary with our memories snug inside.

“Okay, so, one more time,” Romy says, “what was so upsetting about your chicken date with Valeria?”

Even a full day later, my attention is torn between watching my texts in case Valeria comments on the footage I took and watching my Instagram go bananas now that her post is up. And how the hell am I going to cinch Valeria’s and my connection, professional or otherwise, if I’m so stuck on this? I don’t want to bug Romy with Valeria stuff, but it’s still come out somehow over the course of our morning together. “I—I just don’t think she was happy in the end.”

Romy glances up from her computer, her hair blowing in the soft wind. One of Romy’s playwriting friends just got representation without having gone through an MFA program and told her last night that she should send personalized invitations to the festival to anyone she knows with even a vague agent connection. With Romy out of her funk from the night before, we’ve come up with twenty names so far. “She touched your lips, and you and Steven nearly killed her, but she blames Steven and not you. What would Julia tell you to be doing right now?”

I recognize the tightness in my chest, the racing thoughts. I know I’m especially anxious right now, that nothing I say is coming out entirely rationally, but it’s like I have to spit out these thoughts. I wish I could tell Romy to just ignore me.

“I don’t know. She’d be fact-checking me or something.”

Romy’s still not looking up from her laptop. “What bad thing happened? We can disregard the guilt from destroying her digestive system with chilis, because Valeria’s an adult who consented to your practice round.”

I exhale. “She said she’d run the concept by Brendan.”

Romy doesn’t speak for a few seconds. “And what about that says ‘my career and love life have died’?”

“She didn’t say yes.”

“Luna, she’s probably contacting Brendan right now. Please, chill. This is a good thing.”

I know. I know, but I can’t dismiss the subconscious thing I picked up. The look on her face when she said she’d tell Brendan…it just wasn’t the same enthusiasm she’s given everything else about my work. Before she was buttering me up the whole time. And now something has changed. So how do I know all her resentment about the press booking was about Steven and not me? I’m the one who gave her the hell wings. And I should’ve brought milk.

“I just—I don’t feel good about this. Valeria’s been my rock in this weird production world, and it seemed like…I just got a bad vibe.”

Romy closes her laptop. Moves from her position across the table and comes to sit next to me. She pulls me into a side hug. It’s a strange feeling, the way her heat loosens my muscles yet tightens them right back up. I rest my head on her shoulder. I’d never have the nerve to do this with Valeria. But man, do I love the way my cheek molds against the curve of her shoulder.

“Lune, I know this is getting intense for you. But none of this extra work with her is going to change the course of your life.”

“But didn’t you say to focus on my career with her? The personal stuff went so well, but the career bit just feels like I ruined everything. Like I asked for too much.” I thought I could separate my professional and potentially romantic relationships with Valeria, but the whole thing is becoming murkier and murkier.

Romy sighs, heavy and long. “Maybe I was wrong about the career focus. When you think about the day you spent with her, what made you the most excited? And don’t tell me it’s her putting death sauce on your lips, because that’s already the most sadomasochistic thing I’ve ever heard and I don’t need the image of how hard-core your sex life would be if left to your own devices.”

I eye the hot sauce bottle that’s sitting between us. She’d been reading and googling the ingredients earlier. “I was trying to comfort her when she was talking about Steven, and I put my hand over hers. She put her other hand over mine, and it was…I don’t know.” I lace my fingers with Romy’s, testing the feeling. Romy’s fingers are a little shorter, and, unlike Valeria’s, her nails are polished. The cold of her rings presses against my skin. She rubs my knuckles right away, though. I like that. “It’s not like holding guys’ hands. They’re big and usually harder and just—sometimes it feels like a puzzle that doesn’t fit. But I feel like there’s a weird primal comfort and familiarity in a woman’s hands.”

Romy pulls her hand away. “Not to mention the most sexual part of a sapphic.” She blushes and stares out at the firepit before turning back to me. “She seems to be flirting with you.”

My heart flutters. “Yeah?”

Romy motions to the hot sauce. “I wouldn’t brush that on your brother’s lips no matter how funny it would be to see him in pain.”

“Yeah…”

“Something isn’t clicking, though. What would you do if she’s closeted? Like even more than you? Maybe she’s just better at flirting in general.”

I’m sure this is meant to discourage, but my heart picks up. “If she’s closeted, though, then she’s gay? And we have a chance?”

Romy pauses. “Not…quite. Like, in college would you have kissed a non-man?”

I refuse to make eye contact with Romy. Yeah, of course I would’ve. She was actually at the top of my list back then. “Yeah.”

“But would you have been like, ‘Cool, I’m gay,’ and started a relationship?”

I rub my arms. “No.”

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