11 #2
I stood up abruptly from the water. Wrapping myself in a towel, I ripped open the door.
He looked surprised and flustered. Like a boy who was cut off with a kiss. (Who knows, maybe a kiss would’ve made him even angrier.) His hair was ruffled, his hat no longer there, and his cheeks were pink. There was a line of tension between his brows.
“I dare you to say that again to my face.” I spoke slowly, letting the words come out clear and hard.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Take care of your attitude before next week.” And with that, he turned and walked off, leaving me more fired up than when the day first started.
Our fight was only six days ago. To say I was dreading seeing him this week was an understatement. I loathed the very idea of having to look at him, let alone stand near him and appear interested in his existence.
Per usual, I’ve turned to wallpapering to avoid the idea of murder.
My neck was cramping with my head tipped back.
Like a crane trying to catch a bug flying above, taunting me.
This piece of wallpaper refused to stick to the edge of the ceiling three feet above.
You’d think ten years of experience in wallpaper usage would make me fit to apply it, let alone six hours of tennis training a day.
But no. My arm was already sore after one wall.
Which was why Deidra and Cecilia were here helping with the other wall.
“You’re probably rolling too aggressively,” Amir offered over the phone set to speaker on the floor.
“Of course I am—I’m imagining his face behind this paper,” I shouted, hoping he could hear my aggression.
“It was that weird?” he asked skeptically. He thought I was being dramatic, and that had nothing to do with what had happened Sunday and everything to do with the fact that Amir had a crush on Kieran.
“It was really weird,” I grumbled, shoving the roller against the wall. “And I’m blaming you because he wouldn’t have bothered me if you hadn’t told him where I was, Amir!”
The most disturbing part of this whole ordeal wasn’t the argument, but the fact that Kieran didn’t know why I was in this PR stunt in the first place.
He had no idea about Jeremiah. There was an odd sense of relief to finally being in the company of someone who didn’t know about this dark spot in my life.
“He looked sorta nervous, Luna—the way he asked where you were,” Amir replied with sympathy in his voice.
“He’s an actor!” I reminded him.
“Luna, am I going to die from the glue fumes?” my stylist, Kelsey, asked from behind me. “This can’t be good for the fabric.” She shook her wild mane of curls in disapproval, moving the clothes around on the rack, the hangers screeching against the rod.
“I’ll talk to you later, Amir!” Stepping off the ladder, I hung up the phone, and pried the window open, letting the warm air in.
“Thank you.” Kelsey exhaled loudly as if she had been holding her breath.
I looked over, and indeed, there she was bracing her hip, catching her breath. Deidra was unimpressed, but I couldn’t help but laugh. Kelsey’s dramatics was what made these appointments so entertaining.
“Fantastic, now we can begin,” she said with a jolly tone, clapping her hands together. “Put the roller down, I need you to look at these.”
I kept my hand firmly on the wall, holding the panel up from falling as I rolled it against the glue. “Kelsey, you know my style better than I do. Just pick anything that’s a dark color and will make me look like I have boobs.”
“It needs to be a revenge dress,” she murmured like a diabolical villain in the midst of a plan.
I twisted my head in confusion, holding my hands against the wall. “I’m not trying to take down the British Empire.”
“No, you’re trying to take down the patriarchy, which is even harder.”
“A dress is going to take down the patriarchy?” I asked.
“This one specifically.” She held up a long cranberry-red gown. It was bold and romantic; it looked like something an actress would wear in a telenovela. A low-cut neckline, long train, and soft material that would be tugged off by the love interest.
“That’s perfect,” Cecilia gushed.
“I—”
“She can’t wear that,” Deidra interjected, stepping off her stool.
“This is her first public appearance in almost a year. If she walks out in something that screams I want attention, people will think she’s desperate to be accepted.
This will look like she’s trying to reinvent herself, and the only time people reinvent themselves is when they did something wrong. ”
Kelsey shook her head in distaste. “I disagree, this will make her—”
“The answer is no. We need to act like nothing has changed, or she’ll look guilty,” Deidra emphasized.
When I first started tennis, the media’s opinion of me didn’t really affect my personal life. It was simply another planet orbiting outside my inner universe.
Did I enjoy reading headlines about my body and my character? Of course not, I wasn’t made of steel. But when you experienced real problems in life, like losing your mother, you realized that nothing else really mattered. Nothing could ever be as treacherous as that.
The divorce tested that, though. When the whole world hated you, it was hard not to fold under everyone’s voices.
Marriage changed me. Divorce changed me. This scandal has changed me. The last thing I wanted was to act like nothing had changed. But if Deidra said this was the way… then I’d just have to suck it up.
Kelsey bit her tongue and turned to me.
“I think I’ll stick to black,” I responded.