Page 44 of Prime Time Romance

She continues to talk, but her words blend into an indecipherable womp womp womp as I unpack what I think she is suggesting.

The Ms. Lobsterfest pageant was the climax of the last Carson’s Cove season finale. It was supposed to be Sloan’s chance to show Spencer and the rest of the town that she was no longer the quiet, innocent girl they once knew. She had grown up, become a force to be reckoned with, and was now ready and willing to take on the world—starting with the boy next door.

Her whole plan started off so perfectly. She transformed herself from an unassuming girl next door to a full-blown beauty queen using YouTube makeup tutorials and a well-executed chignon. She even found her dead mother’s evening gown from twenty years earlier when she was crowned, and it fit like an absolute dream.

During the pageant, Sloan wowed the judges in the question round. Her years of studying and love of books culminated in thoughtful answers that poked just enough at the important issues of the day without actually offending anyone. By the evening gown round, the crown was in sight.

The competition had been whittled down to Sloan and three other girls: Poppy, Luce, and some random cheerleader who never had an official name. But when Sloan went to change into her dress, it was nowhere to be found. Then, when she tried to go out on the stage in her casual wear, Lois disqualified her.

From there, everything fell apart.

Sloan lost her confidence. She didn’t tell Spencer how she felt, and he left for LA without ever knowing her true feelings.

“So.” Poppy nudges my arm, reminding me that we’re still in the middle of a conversation. “What do you think?” she asks. “Are you in?”

That pageant was Sloan’s darkest moment and, I imagine, her biggest regret. Yet the thought of actually participating in one gives my feminist heart the creeps.

“I don’t know.” I look up, intending to catch Poppy’s eyes in the mirror—but there is someone else staring back at me.

He’s wearing a hot-pink Curl Power T-shirt that’s a size too small, and it strains against his chest as he washes a woman’s hair at the sink. His own normally wild hair is combed into a smooth pompadour with a streak of shirt-matching pink running through it that was definitely not there yesterday. I may not have even recognized him if not for his eyes: light green and piercing.

“Sheldon?”

He doesn’t say anything; he keeps on washing, but his eyes remain on me.

As if he’s waiting…

The pageant.

I’d almost forgotten.

He wants Sloan to win.

It’s the linchpin in his meticulously laid plan. Win pageant. Win Spencer. Brynn and Josh get to go home.

“So, what do you think?” Poppy draws my attention away from Sheldon for a moment.

“Think of what?” I ask her, having missed half of the conversation.

“The pageant,” she says. “Are you in?”

I ignore her and look back to the sink again, but this time, Sheldon is gone.

My eyes scan the sinks and the rest of the chairs. The door. There is no sign of Sheldon anywhere.

“I need to go.”

I move to stand, but Poppy pushes me back down. For such a tiny person, she’s freakishly strong.

“Sloan, come on.”

“Can we talk about this later?” I make a second, far more successful attempt to get to my feet, but as I move to the door, Lois and Poppy block my path.

“No. This is important.”

I need to find Sheldon.

“Whatever you want, Poppy. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”