I wince slightly. “No, I was actually on my way to anywhere but my room.”
“Oh?”
“I’m sharing my room, with some friends who are also going to the conference, but they don’t have sponsorship. And they… they need some privacy.”
Maeve’s expression is blank, until it’s suddenly not. “Ah, I see.”
I know what she thinks, and maybe I should correct her, but the thought of sharing the horror of the reality makes my stomach twist and turn. There’s no need to have her feel something close to that feeling.
“I was going to hang out in the lobby, maybe go for a walk.”
“I could go for a walk,” Maeve surprises me by saying.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I just slept for nearly four hours. If I don’t do some sort of exercise and try and exhaust myself, I’ll be awake all night. And that won’t be a good look for the shoot tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I saw that you’re on the call sheet,” I say. “That’s cool.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I thought about changing my mind but in the end, I figured it wouldn’t be a terrible thing for the world to see an asexual in their underwear. It sort of challenges compulsory sexuality head on, don’t you think?”
I smile at the confidence in her voice. “I think it does. What time is yours scheduled?”
“Nine-thirty. So yeah, I have to get my beauty sleep.”
I almost tell her she doesn’t need her beauty sleep. Her rosy cheeks and clear complexion are plenty beautiful enough, but I stop myself. I will not reduce this conversation to be just about her looks. I will not reduce my opinion of her to that.
“Wanna walk together? I could show you the chaos that is the Strip?”
“You’ll be my own personal tour guide?” she asks and her tone is almost playful, teasing. Almost.
“I guess, although I know very little about what’s actually on the Strip. It’s been years since I was here.”
“But youlivein Vegas?”
I narrow my eyes on her. “And how often do you go to the Guinness Museum in Dublin?”
“Fair point.” She shrugs. “Although it’s actually called the Guinness Storehouse. I know that much. But yeah. Let’s walk. Give me five minutes to just—”
“Nope.” I step closer. “We go right now. No make-up. No change of clothes. I want you looking just how you are.”
The words made sense in my head but now they’re out in the open they seem to take a different, bigger and clumsier shape. But I don’t take them back. I don’t want to draw any more attention to them than they’re already demanding.
Maeve studies me for a moment, pursing her lips in consideration.
“Fine,” she says. “But if anyone recognizes me and paps me and shares shocking make-up-free photos of MaeBae on social media, it’s all your fault and I will sue your arse.”
“Take me to court,” I sing the words in the style of Hozier’sTake Me to Church.
Maeve squints at me a little. “Did you, like, brush up on famous Irish people and landmarks since we last spoke?”
I laugh at that. “No, Maeve,” I say. “But you could give me the CliffsNotes on our walk.”
“CliffsNotes?” She gives me a puzzled frown.
“I see we’ll be starting at Level One for US references.”
And then she smiles. Really smiles, and I’m glad there’s no make-up on her face. Otherwise I’d possibly miss the way her nose scrunches up or the way a single dimple deepens in her right cheek. I’d be oblivious to that little mole that feels like an important discovery. Make-up would hide the way a little cluster of lines pinches together in the corner of each eye, and mascara and eyeliner and eyeshadow couldn’t possibly do more to emphasize the almost emerald glow in her green eyes as they come alive with her smile, like a match being lit.
