Page 14 of Botched

My hair is half-up, half-down. The top layer is pulled back into a low ponytail. My gear is the very same as I was wearing the night I met Theo—white tights with pink detailing and a matching top. It’s simple. I never had the money to get some of the pretty custom sets. Maybe soon though.

All that I need to do is cut my first promo for GRW.Easy, right?

“Hi.” A sweet voice grabs my attention. I turn my head to see a blonde who looks like the sun wakes up when she does. She radiates warmth and happiness and…pink. When I see her, I think of the color pink. “I’m Clara,” she says, extending her hand. Her nails are perfectly manicured, with simple French tips. “I do interviews and stuff backstage.”

I take her hand, offering a smile that hopefully doesn’t look like I’m a nervous mess. “Aurora,” I introduce myself. “You can call me Rory.” Despite what fucking Theodore says, that’s still my name. Roo is not going to stick. I’m not a baby kangaroo.

One of the producers standing nearby claps his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention. “All right, take one,” he says. “Places.”

The camera turns on. As soon as I see the blinking red light, nerves are swirling in the pit of my stomach again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Theodore. He’s leaning against the wall opposite us, waiting for his walk-on cue, in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, muscular forearms on display. If I didn’t know what a douchebag he is, I’d think he was fucking gorgeous. His personality outweighs his looks. I can feel his hazel eyes locked on me, making me feel like I’m an animal on display at the zoo. His gaze is lingering—unyielding.

My eyes leave him as soon as Clara begins to speak. “Hey, guys, I’m here with Aurora Dawn, the newest addition to GRW’s women’s division. Aurora, you have a match tonight againstJuliette, the self-professed ‘Cobra’ of the women’s division. How are you feeling? Any nerves?”

All I have to do is say what I practiced in the bathroom mirror for forty-five minutes after my makeup was done. It’s okay if I come off as cheesy; that’s the point. White meat babyfaces are supposed to come off as cheesy.

When I open my mouth to respond, the words don’t come. They feel stuck on the tip of my tongue. All that panic that’s been swirling in the pit of my stomach feels like it’s moved up to the back of my throat now. I worry that I’m going to projectile vomit all over Clara’s pink flats with sequin hearts on top of them.

The producer shouts, “Cut!” and I shake my head.

“Sorry,” I murmur.

“Don’t worry about it. Take a breath and we’ll try again.” He doesn’t sound like he hates me, but he sounds tired. His black-rimmed glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, and his black baseball cap is pulled down over his face as if he’s trying to hide the exhaustion.

So, I take a breath and we start all over again. Clara hits her line with all the precision of a professional. Each time her microphone is in front of my face, I fucking freeze.

It happens seven times.

I’m beginning to think that my best bet is to run out of here and never look back. Give up wrestling since I’m floundering my first real chance. Being stuck atRise & Rollfor the rest of my life doesn’t sound terrible, right?

I clench my hands into fists and take a few more deep, steadying breaths to try and ground myself. No, no. I can do this. Ihaveto do this. Embarrassment has washed over me, when I feel a very annoying yet slowly growing familiar presence looming over me. Looking up, I see Theodore looking back at me with a smug grin.

“You look cute when you’re blushing, Roo.”

I want to roll my eyes and stomp my feet and tell him that ‘Roo’is not my fucking name, but I already look like a professional screw-up. I don’t need to look like a spoiled brat too.

I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

Apologizing to him feels wrong. He still owes me an apology—an ‘I’m sorry’ on a hundred-dollar bill does not constitute an actual apology—but this is professional. I’m sure the world champion has better things to do than watch me freeze every time it’s time for my lines.

Theodore shrugs. “Look, some advice? Forget about the camera for a second. Focus on having a conversation with Clara. The more natural it feels, the better. If you can only manage to look into the camera at the very end of your promo, at least you’re looking into it a little bit. You’re being thrown to the wolves here, baby doll; time to prove that you are one.”

Is Theodore giving me a fucking pep talk? What world did I get sucked into? Is this the same man who told me to figure things out on my own earlier? Then again, Jules did say that he takes this business seriously. This is clearly an example of that.

“Thank you.”

He nods and goes back to his leaning spot, giving me only a second to think through our exchange before the producer gives the go-ahead for our eighth take.

Clara hits her line again, still sounding as peppy and excited as she had the first time. “Hey, guys, I’m here with Aurora Dawn, the newest addition to GRW’s women’s division. Aurora, you have a match tonight against Juliette, the self-professed ‘Cobra’ of the women’s division. How are you feeling? Any nerves?”

A single breath and I focus all of my attention on Clara. “Why would I be nervous? I was made for this. Juliette can call herself whatever she wants, and that’s fine. I’m not scared of an itty-bitty snake. Let her try to bite me, and I’ll pull out her fangs.”

“What is all this talk of—” Theodore slips into the frame, cutting Clara off from asking any more questions. It’s easy to seehow confident he is like this because Theodore Abrams is not a character on a wrestling show. He is who he is. His eyes are on Clara and then they lazily flick toward me. The gaze is long, lingering, flitting from the top of my head down, and then a smirk pulls over his lips. “You’re new,” he purrs. “Theodore Abrams, GRW World Champion.” He taps the golden belt draped over his shoulder closest to the camera.

For a moment, Igetit. I get why women fawn over him. If I knew nothing about him, and he looked at me like he was looking at me right now? I’d melt. I’d beg for his attention like a needy little kitten.

I remind myself of who I am right now. I’m the new girl who’s interested, feeling the pull. This is the moment when the audience is screaming at me to take a step away from him.

“I’ve heard all about you, Theo,” I say.

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