Chapter 19
It’s been four days since I ran out of Luke’s apartment. Four days of stilted text exchanges. Four days since I’ve even been in the same room as him. And it kind of feels like four months.
But now I’m about to walk into the studio, my computer bag on my shoulder, to help Bailey through media day. It’s my first time back at Silverline since that first scary meeting with Victoria.
Media day is a rotation of back-to-back interviews—journalists coming in one after another—and I’ll be there the whole time. Every question is preapproved. Every answer is monitored. If anything goes off script, I need to catch it before it becomes a headline.
And Luke has to do the same for River. So we’ll be standing in the same small room together. All day.
Translation: Uuuuggghhh.
Oh, and I remembered this morning when I was getting ready that I have a make-up date tonight with . . . Chris. His name is Chris. I had to check my phone.
The good news is that the fact we’re here for media day means we didn’t get fired.
Victoria let us put out the clip the next day, just a small portion of it, and it was a good post. Not too revealing, but definitely showing Kaelric and Elora ramping up their feelings.
#EloraAndKaelric started trending again, and the cat post was forgotten almost instantly.
But this was the text exchange between Luke and me that morning:
Jerkwad: Victoria approved the post
Me: Great!!
I’m not typically an exclamation point overuser, but it felt necessary that morning. It was my attempt at: Everything’s fine! No big deal! Please forget last night happened!
Jerkwad: How do you want to do this?
Me: I’ll do it!! No problem!!
Honestly, I’m still feeling embarrassed by all the exclamation points.
But I quickly made the post, sent it to the studio to approve, and then coordinated with the social media team, and it was up within the hour.
I sent him a text letting him know it was done and then stared at my phone, willing him to write me back. Stupidly hoping that this would be some sort of bridge to get us back to where we were before we blew it all up.
I jumped when my phone beeped.
Jerkwad: Thanks
Just the one cold-sounding word. Maybe if it had been any other time, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But I scrolled up through our previous texts, and that was never the way he responded:
Jerkwad: Thanks for doing that
Jerkwad: You nailed that one
Jerkwad: Couldn’t have done it better myself
I couldn’t look at the nickname anymore after that, after everything. It just felt wrong. So I clicked on Luke’s contact info and changed it.
I’m still not used to it. I had to think for a minute when I woke up to a text from him this morning while I was getting ready for media day.
Luke: What time will you be at the studio
Me: Planning to get there by 7
There was no follow-up. No Great, see you then. No winking emoji. Nothing.
We’d talked previously about carpooling, and I thought about reminding him but then decided against it. Sitting in a car together for that long feels like a lot right now.
So I drove myself. And now I’m standing in front of the studio doors, taking a couple of deep breaths before I tug on the bottom of my plum suit jacket and walk inside. I give my name to the guard, and he waves me through to security.
This is going to be fine. Probably.
After meeting with Bailey in her trailer—running through today’s questions and practicing our signal system, a slight shake of my head when she needs to redirect—I head to the studio space we’ll be using for the interviews.
Bailey and River’s room is the largest—they’re the reason most people are here—and it’s set up to look relaxed and intimate even though it’s essentially a set.
When I walk in, several people are spread around the room, adjusting lighting, arranging chairs for the interviews, and positioning cameras to record footage. In the center of the room are two director’s chairs, and behind that, a backdrop with large posters from the show and the studio’s logo.
I’ve done these events before—not at this level, of course—but I’m feeling extra nervous today. I’d love to think that it’s just because I’m anxious for things to go well for Bailey, but I know that’s not why.
Standing in the back corner of the room, I scroll through my phone, barely even taking in what I’m looking at, while glancing at the door every few seconds.
Luke walks in a few minutes later, wearing a dark-gray suit, the top button of his white shirt undone, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. It’s such a difference from Friday night when he was barefoot in casual clothes. I’m not sure which version I like best.
“Hey,” I say when he sees me. I give him a little wave that I hope he knows means Can we be cool about this?
He gives me a thin smile that says We’re not cool. His lips barely curve upward. “Hey,” he says back.
We stand there for a few beats, with the sound of the crew readying the set echoing in the background.
“Is River ready?” I ask, unable to stand the silence between us.
He nods, turning so he can look at the room setup.
“Bailey too,” I say, even though he didn’t ask.
Oh gosh. This is worse than I thought. I half expected him to come in as his full, boisterous self, pretending like Friday never happened. Or maybe that’s just what I was hoping for. This quiet version of him is so much worse.
Stupid curse. The ironic thing is that it’s done its work, even without the kiss.
I guess I could tell him about it, explain why we can never, ever kiss. But how would that work, exactly? He’d either think I was crazy or think I was making up something ridiculous to spare his feelings.
How do I explain to him in a way that’s not hurtful, so he’ll immediately move on and we can go back to how things were?
Say that I don’t like to kiss? Or I’ve got some sort of extra contagious mouth disease? My religion dictates that I can’t kiss before marriage?
Think, Claire.
I don’t have time to figure anything out because our clients walk in then, and it’s time to do our jobs.
Bailey takes her seat, and I position myself off to the side behind the camera line, with a perfect view of her and River.
Luke takes the spot on the other side, and it feels purposeful.
Last-week Luke would have stood right by me, making jokes and nudging me with his shoulder.
This-week Luke is back to being a jerkwad.
Maybe I was rash in changing his name in my phone.
But he’s not a jerk. I rejected him. I didn’t want to, though. And then I ran out of his apartment like Cinderella at midnight, but instead of losing a glass slipper, I left my dress in his washing machine.
Actually, I want that dress back. I should probably wait awhile to ask him about it, though.
The first interviewer, Meg Bowman from Entertainment Weekly, walks in with a small crew and takes a seat in the chair across from Bailey and River.
“Hello,” she says, smiling brightly at the two of them. “It’s so good to see you both together again. What’s it been like stepping back into these characters this season?”
Here we go.
Four hours later, and I kind of want to die.
I’m seated now because standing got to be too much, so I had someone bring me a chair. And honestly, there hasn’t been anything to flag. I’ve just been watching Bailey answer questions like a pro, and all the interviewers have stayed within the parameters we gave them.
Translation: This is boring.
I think the only thing to note is how comfortable River and Bailey are with each other. Which bodes well for the interviews—and for the show. It’s just in the way they interact—a touch here, a look there—that I’ve noticed something . . . different. A shift. Whatever it is, it’s working.
Luke’s seated on his side of the room. We haven’t really interacted, aside from a couple of shared eyebrow raises when we thought a question was going one way and it ended up going another.
I don’t know what to do about him. I hate that he’s staying put on his side of the room. I could go over, but my view of Bailey would be obstructed, and I’m here to do my job first and foremost.
We have a small reprieve while we wait for the next interviewer. I grab a bottle of water from a nearby table with snacks and drinks and down it quickly.
We’re notified the next interviewer is coming, and I head back to my seat.
But when the person walks into the room, my eyes go wide, and I stand back up.
Is that—?
No. It can’t be.
But it is. I’d know that mousy-brown hair and pointy nose anywhere.
You Oughta Know just walked in the room.
I look to Luke, and he looks right back at me before immediately crossing the room to my side.
“Is that You Oughta Know?” he asks quietly.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “Did you know she was going to be here?”
“No. Did you?”
“I saw a name I didn’t recognize on the list of interviewers this morning. I flagged it to have Tessa look it up, but then I forgot.” I glance back at her. “It’s definitely her, though.”
And when she greets Bailey and River—her slightly nasal voice filling the room—we know for sure.
Luke nudges me with his shoulder, and my stomach does a little flip. Even with all that’s going on right now.
I’m suddenly very aware of him next to me. The way he just . . . came over. Like it was instinct. Like nothing’s changed. Like maybe everything’s fine.
Did this annoying influencer just bridge the gap between us? Because that would be kind of crazy.
I’m probably jumping the gun. But hope blooms. Especially when he stays put, folding his arms like he’s not going anywhere.
“I’m so excited to interview you,” she says.
Bailey and River just smile, both looking worn out but trying to stay alert. Neither of them seems to recognize her. Which makes sense because they don’t pay attention to that side of things—not unless they absolutely have to. It’s the only way to stay sane in this business.
So they wouldn’t know they’re sitting across from the person who’s caused so much turmoil for them these past couple of months.