Chapter 9 #2
“Oh, it does.” Nina nods, then holds her arms out, palms up.
“I’m just saying, if you’re so convinced Tyler isn’t like other men and wants more than a fantasy, why bother getting dressed up at all?
Why not come looking exactly like yourself?
I’m guessing leggings, a baggy sweatshirt, and a hasty bun are a little more your style. ”
Winnie stands a bit taller and crosses her arms, not sure if she should be offended or impressed. “Maybe I’m not dressed up for him.”
“Maybe,” Nina concedes.
It gives Winnie an urge to prove herself. “Maybe I’m dressed up for the cameras and the audience and the TV. I don’t exactly want to look like a schlub for millions of people to see. Tyler knows me. I don’t need to hide anything from him.”
“Maybe not.” Nina looks directly into her eyes with an unnerving intensity.
“Or maybe the fact that he knows you is precisely what you’re trying to hide.
Maybe you understand that he doesn’t want you in those baggy sweats, because if he did, he’d already have you.
So maybe you put on a sexy dress and a bit of red lipstick so that instead of seeing you as you, he’d see you as someone else.
A fantasy, if you will. And all I’m saying is, if that’s what you want, then being honest with him will ruin the illusion. ”
The truth in Nina’s hypotheticals doesn’t land like the aforementioned bit of popcorn stuck between her teeth. It hits like a battering ram to the freaking chest.
Dammit.
Winnie swallows. Her voice is soft when she asks, “So what should I do?”
“Tease him.” Nina shrugs. “Do the last thing he would ever expect you to do. Honesty can wait until you’ve at least got a foot in the door.”
“But what—”
Nina holds up her hand as a muffled voice comes through her headset. Winnie can’t make out what’s being said, but whatever it is, it’s claimed Nina’s full attention. The producer’s eyes glaze over as she stares at a spot somewhere over Winnie’s head. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. I’m with her now.”
Panic begins to set in.
Tease him.
But how?
What can she do? What can she say? This whole time, Winnie’s been planning to get out of the limo, march right up to him, and confess the three words that have been hovering on the tip of her tongue for years.
I love you. But is Nina right? Will that be too much for him to process so quickly?
Too shocking for him to absorb when he still sees her as Alex’s little sister?
Does she need to become someone else, something else, first?
“Hello? Earth to Winnie? Are you ready?”
“Huh?” She looks up at the sound of her name.
Nina watches her, slightly amused. “The limo? Are you ready? It’s time.”
Shit. I am NOT ready. “Yeah.” She gulps. “Sure. I just have one question.”
“Which is…?”
“What do you think is the last thing he expects?”
Nina laughs. “I told you the truth is a bitch.”
“I’m serious,” Winnie implores. “I don’t— I can’t—”
Nina puts a hand to her arm in silent support and squeezes. “Trust your instincts. You know him better than I do.”
“That’s not—”
Nina turns around, leaving Winnie gasping for air. Then she holds out the champagne. “You want this before we go?”
Screw it.
With shaking fingers, Winnie accepts the glass and downs in it one gulp before she follows Nina out the door and into the warm summer night.
They weave past trailers and crew, slipping through spotlights and shadows on their way toward a brilliant white limo.
There isn’t another moment to talk as she’s shuttled inside.
A makeup artist quickly does a few touch-ups while a wardrobe assistant cleans the dirt from her shoes.
A production assistant and cameraman sit opposite her.
The door slams shut. A blinking red light next to the lens turns on. And suddenly, it’s real.
She’s here.
She’s being filmed.
She’s on her way to Tyler.
And she has no fucking idea what to do.
Tease him.
Do the last thing he would ever expect you to do.
Honesty can wait.
Be a fantasy.
The words infiltrate like a swarm of locusts.
There’s no escape. Every time she tries to pivot, they’re there, smacking her upside the head.
She can’t swat them away. The production assistant asks her questions, and her answers probably make her sound like an idiot, because even as she speaks, she can’t think about anything else.
By the time the limo stops, she’s lightheaded—from the nerves, from the champagne, from the lack of dinner, from the epic spiral she’s been unceremoniously launched into.
Someone comes and opens the door. She gets out.
Hopefully, it’s somewhat graceful, but she doesn’t know.
She can’t remember. It’s as though she’s not in control.
Winnie looks up.
Tyler is standing fifteen feet away, handsome as sin in a black tuxedo, his face painted with shock, his brows knitted with confusion.
The moment their gazes meet, everything clicks.
Nina’s right. He’s looking at her as if she’s his best friend’s little sister.
And she needs him to see her as anyone else.
“Winnie, what the—”
She doesn’t give him time to finish. She closes the distance between them, slides her hands up his chest, and gives him a fantasy—her fantasy.
Winnie threads her fingers through his hair the way she’s imagined doing a thousand times. She lifts onto her tiptoes. Then she waits, just long enough to soak in the way his blue eyes stare at her in stunned disbelief, before she closes the distance between them.
I’m kissing Tyler.
I am actually kissing Tyler.
Holy shit.
It’s over practically before it begins. A mere brush of the lips.
A taunt. A tease, just as Nina suggested.
By the time he nestles his hands on her hips, Winnie’s already retreating.
Her face burns. Her heart thuds. Her body thrums, every synapse firing, setting her ablaze with the sparks.
She’s completely overwhelmed by the enormity of what she’s just done.
His grip tightens, as if to stop her.
When his eyes flutter open, he looks at her as though he’s never seen her before.
It’s exactly what she wanted, but now that it’s over, she’s not ready to know what comes next. So she does what she’s always done in the face of sheer mortification.
She runs.