Page 16 of Wild Eyes
She hits me with a scowl.
“Who said that?”
A sullen shrug precedes her response. “Some article. Something about me looking older.”
“I hate to alarm you, but that is actually what happens as you age.”
She laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh.
“If you want my advice…ignore that shit. Don’t even read it.”
“Easier said than done.” Her words are soft and lined with embarrassment.
My chest feels tight, and I don’t know what to say. I’m already terrified to be raising a little girl, let alone a little girl in a world where she might feel like she looks old in her mid-twenties.
Before I can get my words together, she perks up and lands a jab. “Now that I think of it, I don’t actually want you to give me advice. And you don’t get to call mesuper oldwith fine lines like that. You need a filter too.” She waves a finger over my face, but it’s playful.
I chuckle and tip my head in amusement. I shouldn’t have considered this girl down for the count because she just came back swinging.
“Come on, fancy face.” I tilt my head in the direction of the bunkhouse. “Let’s get you set up. You can come do your photo shoot with Meli and beat yourself up about your accelerated aging anytime. I think you’ve done enough of that for one day, though.”
“Did you just call me fancy face?”
I shrug and turn to walk away. “You didn’t like‘doll’ or ‘bird girl.’ And your complete lack of any fine lines is pretty fancy.”
I can hear her soft footsteps as she follows. “Maybe I don’t like‘fancy face’ either.”
“Well, it’s a lot better than‘old face.’”
This time when she laughs, it’s a happy laugh.
And somehow that feels like a win.
When we get to the bunkhouse and I see angelic Skylar Stone standing in the hovel that she’s about to call home, I try not to cringe.
Instead, I blink at her. Big diamond earrings. Perfectly white teeth. Manicured nails. She could not be more out of place than she is in the bunkhouse.
I drop the bedding onto the mattress, and she shocks me by asking, “What do I do with these?”
“You…make the bed?”
A jittery laugh falls from her lips as she tucks her hair behind one ear. It’s a nervous tell. It’s the same as when a horse flicks their ear, rolls their eye to the side. I’m especially attuned to these things. Spend all day watching for signs of discomfort in animals who don’t talk, and you can’t help but notice them in humans too.
“Yeah, totally. I’ll figure it out.”
I blink again. “Are you telling me you don’t know how to make a bed?”
She scoffs. Rolls her eyes. Tucks the other side of her hair behind her other ear. “How hard can it be?”
I blurt out the first thing that crosses my mind. “How are you twenty-six and you don’t know how to make a bed?”
I know it wasn’t the right thing to say by the way her eyes flash. Any comment—joking or otherwise—about her capabilities is a pinch point that sets her off.
“I’ve been polished, propped up, and trotted out like America’s favorite show pony my entire life. I was a child star who lived on the road. I didn’t get to go to school. I didn’t learn how to make a bed. I neverneededto. No one ever told me to. It was always just done. But you know what? I’m not dumb. I’ll figure it out without your”—her hands fly up and make angry air quotes—“big manly bed-making help.”
“Skylar, I didn’t mean?—”
She flicks a dismissive hand at me and refuses to meet my eyes. “There’s a YouTube tutorial for everything. You can go. Thank you for all you did today.” She pauses, gaze fixed on the red-and-white sheets as her teeth strum violently at her bottom lip. “It might may not seem like it, but I really appreciate your help.”
