Page 110 of Tell Me When It's Over

One of the stagehands smiles at me when I scope out the large area. Everyone is busy getting things set before Hot in Hollywood starts filming, so I make my way back to Mia’s dressing room. I may or may not have been eavesdropping when a man carrying a clipboard came to tell everyone when they would be called out. Mia and Garrick are appearing first, doing an interview together and then performing their song for the first time, and then Kyler is the last to perform after doing an exclusive with the host Penny Gomez.

It’s surreal to be here, watching a pretty dark-skinned girl curling Mia’s hair while another does her makeup. “You look beautiful,” I tell her, walking in. They have her in a skintight red maxi dress, not that it’s hard to do when her bulging belly fills out most clothes she wears already.

“Thanks, Lenny Lou.” She’s told to look up so the petite woman whose skin looks like porcelain can do the finishing touches to Mia’s eye makeup.

“I just wanted to tell you good luck.” I jab a thumb behind me. “The audience is full, and everyone seems really excited.”

The woman doing her hair smiles at me through the mirror’s reflection. “This show sold out in an hour and a half after the lineup was announced. The show’s producer is expecting it to be the highest rated show.”

My brows lift. “That’s amazing.”

Both women nod while Mia beams. “Did you see Ky yet?”

Nibbling my lip, I shake my head. “Not yet,” I offer quietly. She catches the tone and stares at me through the mirror. Nothing is said, but the way her eyes lock with mine says a lot more than words can.

I don’t actively talk about the day at her house because I’m afraid I’ll give away too much. Ky and I haven’t shared any more kisses since that night, but the stolen touches happen more often than not—when one of us is making breakfast, the slightest brush of a hand in passing, the dancing of lingering fingertips as we wash the dishes, and the faint taunt of whispered words as we go our separate ways to bed.

We’re hyperaware of each other, but never make another move, no matter how badly we may want to.

I’m glad neither of us are running from what happened, but we’re also not talking about it, like saying the words, admitting what we haven’t openly said, would make things change too quickly. Is that what he wants?

When he’s watching TV with me, he’ll absentmindedly stroke my shin when I’m using him as a footrest, his thumb digging into my skin a little harder than normal, like he’s trying to engrave his fingerprint. Hope settles into my chest when I think about those moments but threatens to run when we’re saying goodnight and he won’t kiss me on the cheek like he used to. He’ll stare at me, eyes cloudy, before squeezing my arm for a few seconds and then walk upstairs without looking back.

And when he asks me about Chase and his voice gets low and his eyes won’t meet mine, I wonder if he’s trying to figure out if he’d prefer I say I ended things with him or that I haven’t. Ever since I told him I was considering my options he’s never asked why or if I have.

We’re a mixture of tension and normalcy and I can’t figure out if I’m relieved or anxious over it, waiting for the last shoe to drop. Maybe even hoping it will because that means a decision has to be made.

Shifting on my feet, I rest a hand on the wall beside me and smile. “I’m going to see him after this.”

She nods once. “Good. And if you see Garrick, tell him if this baby surprises us with its presence today, he has to deliver it.”

I snort and the woman doing Mia’s makeup chokes out a laugh. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it?”

Mia shrugs. “My mother told me she had both of Kyler and I sooner than expected, and I figure today would be the day for the little one to show up if he or she—” She eyes me again. “—is as dramatic as I am.”

This time, the hair stylist chuckles as she lowers the curling wand. “The first can come at any time. Let’s just hope it’s not today. I’m not sure I’d want Garrick Matthews being my midwife.”

When Mia opens her mouth, I know what she’s about to say is going to be a true Mia Casanova response because her eyes sparkle. “If I had to choose anyone here, it’d be the one with the most experience around a vagina.”

“Oh my God,” I groan, which is drowned out by the sound of all three of them barking out laughter that I’m sure a bunch of people can hear outside the room.

“You’re not wrong,” the makeup artist giggles, putting a brush down before grabbing a tube of lipstick. “If the stories I hear are true, he knows what he’s doing with one.”

Mia snorts and puckers her lips when asked so the lipstick can be applied. The beautiful woman finishing up the last touches to Mia’s hair says, “I don’t know if I’d want to be with someone who has that much experience with—” She side eyes me for a second. “Er, lady parts.”

I can’t help but grin when Mia snorts at her artists’ careful words. “You can say vagina, pussy, or any variation around Leighton. She’s been stuck dealing with me long enough and I don’t beat around the bush. No pun intended.”

Cheeks heating, I roll my eyes at her. “It’s true,” I agree, biting my bottom lip when the hair stylist glances at me.

“I’d want someone with a little less of a reputation that way I won’t have to constantly compare myself to the others they’ve been with,” she says, shrugging. Momentarily, my mind goes to Kyler and all the women he’s bound to have been with. Even though I haven’t admitted I’m a virgin outright, he definitely knows. “Someone like… Doesn’t he have a brother?”

Choking on air, I see Mia’s humor-filled eyes dart toward me. A flawless eyebrow arches as she opens her mouth. “He does. And tell us, Lenny Lou, are there certain…traits or skill sets passed down through genetics?”

Heat explodes across my face when the other two women gape at me as I refrain from glaring at Mia. She knows Chase is adopted, but that doesn’t stop her from getting her fill.

“Oh my God!” the makeup artist chirps, blinking at me. “I forgot he was dating someone. You guys never go out! You might as well be Big Foot to the media.”

Flinching, I manage to lift my shoulders in a casual shrug. “Neither of us really likes the attention. It’s easier to stay in.”

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