“Yeah.” She gestures vaguely toward me. “You look like you’d smell expensive.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Take it as a compliment. I'm not hawking the cheap stuff.”
Ashley is still flipping through photos, clearly thrilled. “Seriously, this is some of the best paired content we’ve gotten all week.”
“Whit!” someone from her team calls from across the set. “Need you for the next set of shots.”
She turns slightly, raising a hand in acknowledgment. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
She steps back, pauses, and then before I can register what she’s doing, she leans in and wraps her arms around me in a quick, casual hug. “Probably won’t see you after this. Good luck with the wrist,” she says quietly, patting me on the back.
“Thanks,” I say as she pulls back.
By the time I get changed and head out, the sun’s already starting to dip, the cold settling in harder now that I’m not moving.
My phone buzzes as I step off the last stair.
It’s Dave.
I answer, tucking it between my ear and shoulder as I push through the exit.
“Tell me you didn’t hate it,” he says immediately.
“I didn’t hate it,” I reply. “I strongly disliked parts of it.”
“I’ll take that as a win.”
“You would.”
He starts talking about press coverage, about how the campaign’s already gaining traction, about how the early shots are getting picked up faster than expected.
I half listen; half don’t.
My attention drifts to the ache in my wrist, to the cold, and to the fact that my phone is still empty of anything from Honey.
“...and if the engagement keeps trending like this, we might want to lean into the—are you listening to me?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m listening.”
I shift my phone into a better grip and tuck my free hand into my pocket out of habit.
My fingers brush against something that isn’t supposed to be there.
I frown slightly, pulling it out.
A small, folded piece of paper.
“...Zach?”
“Yeah. Still here.”
I unfold it without thinking.
A number.
I flip it over and see a note.
