Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
CLOVER
Dinner needs to wrap the hell up. I can feel myself edging closer and closer to tears, and the last thing I want to do right now is break down in front of Jill and Roman. I just want to collapse in on myself in private.
When Anita sent me an email, I’d assumed it’d be something innocuous. I wasn’t expecting her to send a link to an article with more horrible comments. Pulling out my phone, I open it once more like the absolute sucker for punishment that I am.
Clover, great news - the photos from Napa keep rolling in. Let’s keep it up. P.S. I’m booking you in with that esthetician.
- Anita Percival, Owner & Lead Agent, Talent House Hollywood
The link to the article beckons me back for further punishment, and I open it.
The article itself is relatively innocent, featuring some photos of Roman and me in Napa.
It talks about where we were spotted out there and what we were up to.
The good news is that it puts to rest some of the rumors that we may not be legitimate–especially the photos of us cuddled up and making eyes at one another.
What I wasn’t prepared for were the comments.
I shouldn’t have looked. The logical part of me knows I shouldn’t, that nothing in there will be positive enough to have justified looking.
But then there’s that other part of me, that part that’s looking for something, that part that almost seeks the shame and ridicule.
The part that seeks outside voices to justify my own shitty self-talk.
I scroll down again, and the comments land like physical blows.
Yiiiiikes, really? her?
She’s a nobody - talk about a downgrade
Calling it now, she’s gonna tank the movie.
Not enough of an ass IMO
Not who I pictured him with...
He gonna be able to lift her for all those stunts? LMAO
“Clover?” Roman asks.
I look up, completely busted that I wasn’t paying attention. Glancing over at Jill, I can see her demeanor has shifted too, and she’s studying me intently.
“Sorry, what?” I do not want their scrutiny right now. All I want is to melt into the ground and disappear.
“I was asking if you want any potatoes?” Roman clarifies, his eyes are narrowed on me and unrelenting.
“You know what, I’m actually not feeling great, so I’m going to go lay down. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Jill purses her lips, but doesn’t say anything.
I hop off the barstool and make a beeline for my room before either of them can stop me.
“Clover?” Roman calls, but I shut my door and lock it. The door is cool against my back as I slide down it and crumple into a ball against it. Phone in hand, I re-read one of the comments that cuts the deepest.
Damn, she doesn’t have the right body type for that dress
My blue and white dress. The dress that had made me feel like a million dollars. The dress that made me so happy, and feel so beautiful.
I’m burning that fucking thing now.
I don’t want to film today. My head is pounding from all the crying I did last night. I’m dehydrated, and I’ve got a big stunt today. This isn’t how I want to feel going into filming one of those.
With a sigh, I push myself out of the plush bed and head to the attached bathroom.
When I flick on the lights, I hazard a glance in the mirror, nervous to see if I look as bad as I feel.
By some miracle, my eyes aren’t completely puffy, just a little red-rimmed.
Nothing that some time in the makeup chair can’t fix.
Hopefully, Priscilla can work her magic today.
My stomach lets out a growl, and I stare down resentfully. After everything I saw yesterday, the last thing I need is breakfast today, so I vow to go without. Instead, I swallow a few of the caffeine pills, hoping an extra one will give me the extra energy I need to get through this day.
As I scrub at my face, I press the facecloth down a little more aggressively than I need to, hoping that I can wipe away the feeling of misery that clings to me. I try to give myself a pep talk to keep this day from going completely sour before it’s barely even started, but it’s not working.
A light knocking at the bedroom door sounds, and I head over, cautiously cracking it open.
“Hey,” Roman says, his voice gravelly with sleep.
My heart clenches, remembering how it sounded the same yesterday when we woke up in one another’s arms. Thinking about everything we did on the trip has my stomach in knots.
What the hell was I thinking, hooking up with Roman?
I couldn’t have been more than a warm body to him.
The closest, most accessible thing. Of course he’d sleep with me right now, especially when he can’t risk sleeping with anyone else and blowing this whole ruse.
Of course, it meant nothing. Why would he ever want me?
If those comments are anything to go by, no one should ever want me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Mhmm,” I nod my head, refusing to make eye contact with him. That lasts for all of about a second before I feel his hand under my chin, tilting my face toward his so that he can see into my eyes.
Before he asks again, I swat his hand and jerk away from the contact.
“Give me a minute and we can head to the studio.” I shut the door rather unceremoniously in his face, unwilling to talk about why I’m feeling the way that I am. I need a little time, and I can pull it together and put on the persona I need to in order to get through today.
“Actually, you know what–I’ll meet you there. I need a little more time.” I call through the door.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Roman, go.” I bite out. I don’t want to sit in the car with him and have him prod at me. I need to center myself. Tanya would shit a brick if she knew I was in a crappy headspace before filming our stunt today.
Roman doesn’t respond, but when I press my ear to the door, I don’t hear movement for a few seconds, as if he’s debating saying something else. Eventually, I hear the telltale shuffling and a door opens and closes in the distance. The distance feels more than physical as he walks away.