Page 36 of Between the Lines

“Maybe!” she shouted. “I wanted you to, I don’t know, pretend you gave a damn?”

“We werecool,” I countered. “Or so I thought? We got what we needed and kept it pushing, and you have never made it seem like you were into more than that, or that it wasn’t enough. So why are you switching up on me right now?!”

She shook her head. “If you don’t see it, I can’t explain that shit. Fuck you.”

And with that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Leaving me exponentially more confused and exhausted than I’d been ten minutes ago.

I’d called myself doing the right thing when I realized I wasn’t actually interested in the dynamic with me and Stella anymore—letting her know instead of stringing it along. And…yeah, maybe subconsciously my recently increased connection to Ellie had something to do with it, but I was never planning to be on the “fuck buddies” wave withanybodyvery long.

Especially not when it was being used for publicity stunting.

I wasn’t sure why Stella had bugged out so intensely about me trying to make a clean break, but…whatever.

I had lines to run through.

Chapter Nine

ELODIE

Acting was neverjustacting.

The promotional obligations that came along with it assured that much.

You weren’t juston a show,orin a movie, you were in a seemingly never-ending press run. You had to be prepared at any moment to talk about—or get berated over or laughed at because of—every time anyone had ever put a camera in your face.

With grace.

And detail.

Oh, and look good while you did it.

It wasexhausting.

I took it in stride though—it was part of the deal, and certainly nothing new. Even back when I was a little girl, when Pierre and I would act in my mother’s homemade short films, we’d do these over-the-top red-carpet interviews—insolent, manipulative reporter, and emotional diva actors.

Thatwas fun.

But it has also somewhat prepared me—I had amusing memories I could call on to run on a loop in the back of my end to help keep my expression serene as paparazzi rudely screameddirections at me, some of them making crude comments about my body, asking if I’d pepper-sprayed any more fans.

I ignored it.

That didn’t make it any less cruel, but it gave me the mental and emotional barrier I needed to make it through this convention without making my insistence to everyone that I’d be fine a lie. And once we made itinsidethe space to actually interact with the people who had a true interest in being at the event versus a chance to get a glimpse of—and a rise out of—celebrities, it was a totally different vibe.

It was a quick trip to LA—just Alec and I for this one, which gave me an opportunity to observe him a bit more in real time. He was roughly the same age as Shaw, late twenties, and they’d been acting for around the same length of time. Alec though had been a highly visible football prodigy since he was a kid, so he was more than accustomed to the scrutiny, the questions, all that.

He was a pro at this.

From everythingIcould discern, he actuallywasthe nice guy many people swore was some sort of act he put on. I watched the genuine kindness in his eyes as he interacted with his fans at the short Meet & Greet that would fulfill our obligation for the day. And when my much shorter line ran out, he made a point of simply integrating me intohisfan experience so I wouldn’t just be there looking awkward.

It ended up being fun.

We got fast food for the short, private flight back, and I ended up listening to his stories—the injury that ended his career, the depression he fell into after, how he got into acting. He listened to mine too—the impact of losing my mother so young, then my father. The wild child behavior, and how that got old.

By the time we got off the flight, we were homies and parted ways with a quick hug.

I…didn’t know I was going to regret that hug, but by the time I made it back to my building—whichhadbeen free of any nosy press for a while—apparently, I was the subject of a new scandal.

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