Page 10 of Between the Lines

And based on his reaction, I wasn’t sure it was even that accurate of a title.

We’d gone from strangers, to colleagues, to friends, to…more. When that didn’t work, we’d tried a tentative rollback to friends that…didn’t really work either.

Obviously.

The conflicting feelings made it exponentially more difficult to walk out of that bathroom to get back to the table read than it would’ve been if he weren’t there.

But a little challenge had never scared me off before.

It wouldn’t now, either.

I took a deep breath, held my head high, and made my way back to the table read.

To pretend I wasn’t still in love with the man I’d be spending the next several months pretending to fall in love with.

Chapter Three

ELODIE

So Ididremember tellinghimnot to fucking talk to me.

The memory pulled me right out of my sleep, and I sat up straight in bed, staring into the dark of my bedroom as the details came back to me.

Embarrassingly.

I stood by what I said to Shaw about it not being a great night.

Sure, I’d won an award, and it felt amazing to be recognized by my community. There was absolutelynodoubt about that. I looked great and my publicist was pulling me from one person to another, trying to give every publication their desired soundbite. It was good to be in demand, and externally, I wasthriving.

Internally…I was raw.

The breakup with Shaw had pretty much fileted my heart, and because the relationship had been kept out of the spotlight, my emotionally fragile state had to be kept under wraps as well.

Ihadto look like I had my shit together.

After all, I was Elodie Perry—daughter and granddaughter and niece and sister of Black Hollywood elites. That came witha certain expected aesthetic,especiallysince I wasn’t doing the Instagram Baddie thing anymore.

No more half-naked selfies, no more inebriated paparazzi shots, no more goofing off on live streams with “friends” who were actually terrible people.

I was off all that.

I did the occasional day-in-the-life vlog and got a million views. I got multi-page spreads inSugar&Spicemagazine. I did brunch and overnight spa dates with women who’d been with me through the worst times of my life—realfriends.

I was different.

And letting how I felt inside show on the outside would’ve been antithetical to the image I’d curated.

So I was doing what I apparently did best—acting.

Acting like I wasn’t worried I’d never fall in love again—I’m just so happy to be here tonight, among all these amazingly talented people I admire.

Acting like I didn’t miss Shaw so bad I was in physical pain—Now, you know nobody but Brandi Elliot touches my hair—I’m giving you body and elegance today thanks to her.

Acting like there wasn’t a moment, upon hearing the red-carpet commotion and glancing back to see Shaw with a new woman on his arm, that I felt like I was going into cardiac arrest—No, I’m totally fine—Dylan Hugo put me in this fabulous dress, and there is actually a corset in here! He tried to warn me, but I said no, I wanna be snatched! I’m thinking now I should’ve chosen breathing, right?

It felt like I was dying.

The dress thing was a complete lie, but my stylist—Dylan—pulled me back to a dressing room in a panic, trying to fix it.

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