Page 14 of Prince Charmless
“I know.”
“You should get it fixed.”
“Not to be a bad host, but why are you in my apartment?”
“I need to talk to you.” He emerges into my living room. “Is anyone here?” His face looks less perfect now, more gruff and tired-looking.
“No. I live alone.” I close the door behind me after realizing it’s been open this whole time. “And you’re scaring me,” I add to indicate how weird it is for him to show up here unannounced.
“We have to talk to you about the photo.”
“What photo?”
He pulls out his phone. “Have you not seen?”
The tweet he shows me has thousands of likes and comments. It’s Taylor and I dancing underneath the caption ‘who is #purpledresswoman???’ The picture is blurry, and I’m facing away from the camera, but it’s definitely us.
“Do people know that’s me?” I ask, stealing his phone. “Wait, what are they saying about the back of my head?”
Just as I scroll down, he steals it back. When I lunge to grab my own phone from the end table behind him, he puts his hands on my shoulders to stop me.
“Don’t do that,” he says, letting go.
“Why?”
“You should stay away from reading comments about yourself for the next couple of days.” Taylor turns around and does a once-over of my living situation. I wonder if he’s ever been in a one-bedroom before. “Or for forever, actually.”
I lean back against the cool bricks. “Is it bad?”
“It’s the internet. People are trying to figure out who you are, but if anyone asks, you should deny that it’s you, for your own sake.”
For my own sake.Weirdly thoughtful for someone who blew up on me the night before.
“I’m bad at lying,” I say. According to everyone I know, I get all shifty-eyed and itchy-looking. I’m usually a dead giveaway.
“You should get better at it. It solves many of life’s problems.” Taylor cocks his head at the abstract painting I did in university of my grandmother’s home in Argentina. “Listen, I came over to apologize,” he says. “I didn’t mean for your likeness to benumber one trending in St. Claire.” He sounds genuine, but this can’t be the only reason why he’s here.
“Ah, you came over to apologize forthat.” I can’t help but smile.
He shifts his gaze to the bottom corner of the painting, my signature. “What else would I be apologizing for?”
Oh, I don’t know, maybe for storming off on me last night, leaving me alone on the dance floor for the whole reception to see.
“So you found my address and came all the way over here just to save me from getting my feelings hurt? No ulterior motive?” I stop my pacing to pin him with my best detective look.
The corner of his lip ticks upwards like he’s pleased I’ve figured out he’s not just here for shits and giggles. “I would also like to make sure you’re not going to come forward,” he says. “The sooner people get bored trying to find you, the sooner this all blows over for me. But I do mean the apology. You don’t want your information getting out there just as much as I don’t.”
I frown. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”
“I don’t know. Would I have to?”
Yes. Definitely trying to intimidate me.
“Why would I want to talk to the press?” I ask.
He crosses his arms. “Clout, fame, money. Maybe you’re a very shallow person. I’m not sure.”
How could he think that of me? Better yet, how did I almost find him charming last night?
