Bodied

8. Lauren

CHAPTER 8

LAUREN

L auren sat across from her mom at a round dinner table at the front of a ballroom full of similar dinner tables. It felt something like a wedding reception, but there was no wedding there. All the tablecloths, napkins, and décor being white didn’t help differentiate the occasion from a deeply uninteresting wedding reception. But it was an important dinner, during which her mom was expected to make political connections and basically sell herself as someone who would reach across the aisle and get things done. Though she was already elected, now was the time to show the country they had made the right choice. Anne Bartlett was always thinking ahead to the next election, which — according to her — was why she so often won.

The whole affair was one Lauren could not possibly care less about. She was miserable, but the fact that Wesley was seated beside her looking every bit as bored made the occasion a bit more bearable. He kept attempting to fold his cloth napkin back into the fancy shape it had been in at the beginning of the meal, and Lauren was enjoying watching him fail. He was the least polished person on the planet, and now he was her fake boyfriend, which was her mom’s own recommendation.

What was it people were calling this sort of thing, these days? Malicious compliance ? Whatever it was, it felt great to see her mom repeatedly glancing at Wesley with that same disapproving look she’d given to all Lauren’s past dates. Only this time, her mom had hand-picked the man herself. It was glorious.

“I’m pretty sure I know how to fold it,” Lauren whispered to Wesley. “Watch this.”

He stared down while she pulled the napkin from her lap and carefully folded it into an airplane shape. Once he realized what she was doing, he snorted and immediately covered his mouth to smother the sound.

“Do you think it will fly?” she asked.

“I doubt it,” he said.

“Only one way to find out.” She grinned at him and held the cloth airplane up as though she were about to throw it. She glanced over at her mom, who gave her exactly the sort of look she was hoping to receive. It was a warning, a mild disapproval with the threat of more. It said, I’m not mad — I’m just disappointed. Success. Rather than throw the cloth airplane, Lauren unfolded it and started attempting to make an origami crane instead.

Wesley corrected her several times, but he seemed just as lost as she was. “Your bird looks a little deformed,” he finally said. “Like keep-it-in-the-family deformed.”

Lauren burst out laughing, and her mom gave her an even harsher look. “Let’s see you do better,” she said playfully.

Apparently, Wesley couldn’t resist a challenge because he immediately began folding his napkin into shapes Lauren was certain would not lead to an accurate bird of any kind. Lauren bit her lip to stifle her laughter. Subtle misbehaving was one thing. Blatant misbehavior would get her kicked out of the dinner before she had adequately irritated her mom, who needed to laugh way more often, in Lauren’s opinion.

Wesley held up his newest creation and changed its angle repeatedly until he was satisfied. “There,” he said, thrusting the thing in front of Lauren’s face. “It’s a sword. Sort of.”

“That’s a dagger.” Lauren crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Proportionally.”

He squinted down at his new creation. “Nah, really? It’s a… Maybe it’s a katana.”

Her mom’s looks were getting darker, and Lauren knew she was coming closer to crossing the line. She toned it down just enough, but she didn’t stop prodding Wesley when no one was really paying attention.

Every once in a while, Lauren managed to convince herself that she was only giving so much of her attention to Wesley in order to troll her mom as some kind of revenge for making her come to these of events in the first place. But after a while, she lost track of how her mom was reacting, and she had to admit that she was joking around with her bodyguard simply because he was a lot of fun to joke around with. She liked him. She liked him a lot. He seemed to be having a good time, too, despite the way his coworkers looked at him. They were probably just jealous that he got to sit down to dinner while they had to stand in a line along the wall like extraordinarily realistic statues.

Somehow, Wesley made what used to be her personal hell into an absolute blast.

* * *

The next event Lauren had to attend with her mom’s entourage was a movie premiere. This one she had been looking forward to, mainly because it was right up her alley. The film was one Lauren was only mildly interested in seeing, but it was nice to do something in her wheelhouse for a change. Of course, being in her wheelhouse and potentially drawing the attention of people from her world meant the boyfriend act was of the utmost importance.

She held Wesley’s hand on the way in and leaned on his shoulder as the title card popped up on the screen. He had the presence of mind to put an arm around her, but then he squeezed her shoulder and his thumb caressed her skin, which was probably overkill. It was dark and not like anyone could really see what was going on. Maybe he was just getting into his role. It wasn’t like Lauren had never done the same. But there was a warmth to it, a gentleness that made her question what he really meant by it.

Lauren was so distracted by his hand, she barely noticed the film she was supposed to be watching. Her distraction was so bad that she couldn’t even answer questions about it afterwards. She had to stay vague and shrug a lot, all while her mind kept going back to that feeling of his fingers brushing her bare arm.

At some point, one of her mom’s colleagues asked Wesley what he thought of the film they’d just seen, and he answered, “Well, it was just fine, you know. But it hasn’t dethroned my favorite.”

The man who asked gave Wesley a dubious smile. “And what’s your favorite, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Wesley didn’t hesitate to answer. “It’s going to have to be The Princess Bride . Practically perfect in every way. No one’s managed to top it. It’s just… objectively excellent.” He shrugged.

“That’s…” The man fumbled for something but lost whatever it was he intended to say fairly quickly. He ended with. “That’s an option, I guess.”

“It’s the only option,” Wesley said with a level of confidence that instantly elevated the conversation from merely amusing to downright aggressive. “Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

If there was any chance Lauren wasn’t attracted to him before, that chance was dead and buried now. She gasped, burst out laughing, and she couldn’t seem to stop. It was such a beautiful way to put these pompous pretenders in their places, and she adored Wesley for saying with his whole chest what she’d could never muster the courage to say.

Every single premiere she attended had at least one of her mom’s political peers pretending to care deeply about film in general. They always spoke nonstop about the most obscure arthouse films and would put down anything mainstream with an arrogance Lauren could hardly stand. They thought it made them look smart or something. It didn’t. The fact that Wesley shut that down before it even got started made Lauren want to drag him outside and plant a kiss on him. But of course, that would be against the rules she herself had made.

Instead, she leaned in and muttered, “Are you going to follow me to the bathroom? Because I’ve got to go.”

“You know it, babe.” He grinned and put a hand on her shoulder. His performance had definitely improved, so maybe she shouldn’t criticize how deeply he seemed to be getting into the role.

On the way to the bathroom, Lauren’s mom found her and pulled her aside. “A word, please.” She was unhappy — that much was more than obvious.

Her mom pulled her into an unused room, which Wesley quickly went in and swept ahead of them. When he was finished, he waited outside the door while Anne Bartlett admonished her daughter. Lauren wished he was still with her, but she supposed everything they were both doing was her fault anyway. She was the one who insisted on such a realistic display of affection, after all.

“Lauren,” her mom began. “I don’t ask much of you.” Lauren resisted arguing, though she definitely disagreed. “Attend a few events here and there. Dress nice, smile, and shake a few hands. Act like an adult. That’s all. It’s really not that complicated, but lately…” The woman bowed her head in the dim light of the empty room. “Lately you seem unable to do even that much.”

How was Lauren supposed to respond to that? Something about her mom always shrank her courage to nothing. It felt like shame, like she owed more than she could ever pay back. Of course, her mom wasn’t asking much at all, was she? She was right as always. And Lauren had been behaving like some kind of rebellious teenager. Again. She bowed her head. “We were just having a little fun.”

“ We ?” Her mom arched an eyebrow and folded her arms.

“Yes, we . Wesley and me. You’re the one who told us to stick together at all times. You were even the one who suggested we act like we were dating to avoid suspicion.”

“That was hardly a serious suggestion,” Anne said, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

Lauren crossed her arms right back. Two could play at the game of mutual disappointment. “Well, next time you’re making a sarcastic suggestion, try to be more clear. Isn’t communication like… a big part of your job or something? We took the suggestion seriously, and it’s been going well, even if it’s not exactly what you wanted. No one in my life knows I have a bodyguard, which is the entire point.”

Her mom actually rolled her eyes, which made Lauren care a lot less about what the woman thought of her performance.

It was time to stop the games. “I feel like I can never be good enough for you, Mom. I’ve given so much of my time, and there are other things in my life besides your campaign and election, you know? I wish you could care about anything going on in my life for a change. Like did you know I just had a really big audition, and I’ve basically got the part. It could catapult me into a real career in cinema. It’s a big deal, Mom, but the only one who knows about it, or even seems to care, is my freaking bodyguard — my fake boyfriend.”

Anne Bartlett narrowed her eyes. “Congratulations, Lauren.” Her words did not match her expression at all. “I wish you all the best. You know I do. I always have.” She gave her daughter a halfhearted smile. “Just… try to play the part of a responsible adult at the symphony on Friday, okay? That’s all I ask — one event that you take seriously. Please.”

Lauren heaved a deep sigh, and let her arms drop. “Fine. We’ll be extra boring at the symphony on Friday.”

“Thank you,” her mom said as Lauren made her way out the door. Lauren scowled down at her feet and grabbed Wesley by the wrist. “Let’s go. I’m done with this role tonight.”

Wesley perked up and followed. “Oh. okay.”

* * *

On the day of the symphony, Wesley waited in Lauren’s living room while she got ready for the evening. She had purchased a dress for this specific occasion — a dark-blue ballgown that hugged her curves and looked appropriately formal. She even had opera gloves, though she hadn’t put them on yet. She added the last tweaks to her hair and makeup, and emerged into her living room.

“So,” she said to the back of Wesley’s head, “what do you think?”

He turned to see her and was on his feet in seconds. Lauren expected a snarky comment followed by mild approval, but Wesley seemed unable to say anything at all. His jaw dropped, and she glanced down, thinking she’d had some kind of wardrobe malfunction without noticing. She blushed, embarrassed. Then she blushed even harder when she realized what was really going on. There was no wardrobe malfunction. Wesley was just stunned.

He confirmed it with his clumsy attempt to say something. “I… You look… Wow.”

She tried to shrug nonchalantly, but the way he was looking at her made it almost impossible. “Thanks, I guess,” she muttered. “It’s just for the symphony. My mom will expect me to be dressed up.”

Wesley managed to close his mouth long enough to say, “Well, she won’t be disappointed. You look great.”

“Thanks again,” Lauren said, grabbing her nicest coat from her coat closet. “Now, let’s go be extremely boring and serious for three hours.”

Wesley wore the same suit Lauren had purchased for him weeks ago. It seemed to be the only formal wear he had, which wasn’t too surprising. What did surprise Lauren was how much better he seemed to look in it. Had he gotten it tailored? Was his posture better? What was it? Suddenly, she couldn’t stop staring at him. Even in the car on the way there, she kept glancing over at him, noticing the way he carried himself. Something had to be different, and there was no chance it was her.

At the symphony, Lauren and Wesley sat in Anne Bartlett’s box beside one another. The rest of Anne’s security team stood around them in uniform, but Lauren insisted that Wesley be allowed to embrace his role as the boyfriend, so he got to sit with the other patrons.

The performance meant nothing at first, and then Lauren started to listen, to really hear it. Something moved her more than she would have expected. The violins swelled, and so did her heart. Normally, she would have made every effort not to show that she’d been moved by anything set up by her mom. But this time, for some reason, she felt more comfortable being vulnerable. Maybe because, for once, she didn’t feel she was completely alone.

She reached over and touched Wesley’s hand. He would only think she was playing her role, so it was more than safe. But when he took her hand and let his fingers slip between hers, she suddenly felt less like this was a role either one of them were playing. His eyes glassed over the same way hers had, and he squeezed her hand almost too tightly. She definitely wasn’t alone, she realized. The music was getting to him, too. For the first time, the two of them were interacting at one of her mom’s events in a way that wasn’t just a joke. It was a real, genuine connection, and that scared Lauren more than everything else she claimed to be worried about.

When the symphony was over, she let Wesley drive her home in silence and waited while he swept her bedroom. Then, before he left for the night, she decided to go to bed. She didn’t want to talk to him about anything that had happened that night. “Lock up, will you?” She tossed him a key. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sure.” He glanced down at the key and then back up at her, confused. “But are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “I’m just tired. Goodnight.” And she left him alone in her living room without another word of explanation.