As I fix my hair in the mirror, I can’t stop smiling. I make a mental note to thank Demi for being so pushy about all of it. Even if the kiss was real, we aren’t actually dating.
I pull out more peach lip gloss and pop the cap off. Most of my lip gloss disappeared when Zane and I kissed, and I’m fine with that. Suddenly the door opens, and a woman walks in, heading straight to the sink next to me. I apply the gloss, and can feel her looking at me in the mirror. I make eye contact and offer a small smile, but even when I look away, she is still staring.
“Are you dating Zane Calloway?” she asks, and I straighten up. She must just be a fan. I mean, he is a supermodel after all. A well-known one.
“I am,” I answer before looking back in the mirror. She continues to stare at me. She’s taller than me, but not by much. A little more shapely, too. If I had to guess, we are around the same age. Her hair is dark, cut in a choppy bob, and her eye makeup is very dramatic.
“Are you alright?” I ask because she’s still staring at me. She hasn’t even blinked; it’s almost like she is trying to etch me into her mind, which has me feeling a little uneasy.
“How long have you been dating him?” she asks.
I swallow. “A few weeks,” I say, doing my best to smile.
“And you already live together?”
The question feels intrusive, but then I remember I am “dating” a supermodel. “What can I say? We fell so quickly,” I answer. It sounds good in my head. If I were quoted, social media would eat it up.
And who says we aren’t convincing?
“Do you really think he could fall in love with you that quickly?” she asks. “I mean, he hardly knows you.”
I am still smiling, but there’s a sting to it. I’m not loving this encounter, even if it is just some journalist digging for dialogue for her story.
“You have to be careful with men like him,” she goes on. “They might seem like they love you, like they care, like you’re special, but they’re notorious for being liars. They will walk away and leave you high and dry in an instant.”
Okay, this is getting weird.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I ask.
“He’s not going to love you,” she says, and my heart starts to race.
“Okay,” I say, walking around her and heading for the door.
“You’re going to get fucked over!” she calls out. As I walk back to the table, I feel like I am running.
“Everything okay in there?” Cal asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Ashlyn?” Demi asks.
I look at all of them and then force a smile. “Yeah. Everything is fine,” I lie. I don’t think Demi buys it, but Zane is just smiling and carrying on.
“Good. You wanna get out of here?” he asks with a smirk as he comes to his feet and plants a kiss on my cheek. Honestly, I’ve never wanted anything more than to leave this place. But it’s not for the reasons he probably thinks.
* * *
As soon as we get back to the house, I slip out of my shoes. I want to strip out of everything. As fun as the dinner started out, I can’t help but feel queasy about what happened afterwards.
“I think we did well,” Zane says.
“Yeah?” I ask, doing my best to be present.
“Yeah. I mean, usually I don’t check the social media cess pool unless I have to, but that kiss is all over the place. Nigel is going to be thrilled,” he said.
“That’s good,” I answer hollowly. Zane’s smile fades, and he sets his phone on the counter.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says.
“Mean what like what?” I ask.
