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As she takes the stairs to the stage turtle-slow in those rockin’ red heels, I can almost hear her silentdon’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip.
“Let’s start over,” Canine Chick says. “I’m Donna Tilden, author ofRun. Welcome to the debut author panel.”
Jess slides into her seat, centimeters from knocking over her neighbor’s uncapped water bottle.
The stage setup—free-standing mics and paper nameplates on a long rectangular table—reminds me of panels I’ve done at ComicCon. The five other women up front have to be twice Jess’s age. If they’re all like Donna, I don’t blame Jess for wanting to bolt.
“And welcome Jessica Thorne, teen author ofHaunted.” Introducing Jess last, Donna saysteenthe same way I saydamn, and gives her a quarter of the time and none of the kudos she gave the others.
The moderator steps forward to stand behind a small podium. “First question, please.” The ask-and-answer session funnels into a Charlie Brownwah, wah, wah, wah, wahthat I tune out until I hear Jess’s name.
The moderator repeats the question into the mic. “I readHauntedon DigitalReads and loved Sara and Dante. How did you come up with the idea of using snippets from Sara’s diary?”
Jess grips the sides of her chair like she’s on a roller-coaster and her safety harness snapped.
Smile, Jess.While I’m mentally donating her hours with my acting coach, she finally answers.
“A lot of girls keep journals, so I figured they could relate.” Her voice barely hits the mic.
The lady who asked about werewolves says, “Is your next book a sequel toHaunted?”
“No.” Jess’s leg bounces so aggressively under the table my thigh aches. “Sara and Dante got their happy ever after.”
A woman raises her hand, just as my phone vibrates in my pocket. “Off the football field, Dante seems more Clark Kent than Superman. Is he your idea of the perfect boyfriend?”
I let the call go to voicemail. This I want to hear.
Jess releases her death grip on the chair. “I like that when it comes to Sara, he’s nervous and sweet.” This question she’s into. There’s fire in her eyes, excitement stoking her words.
It’s the same when I’m filming. I’m all in. My jaw clenches. Or I was. Until the mid-season finale wrapped. Unless I jump from Jax to Wolverine—and there’s zero chance I’ll ever be a Hugh Jackman—I’m stuck speeding down a highway that only has two exits. Child-star meltdown and child-star oblivion.
Jess’s gaze catches on me and a moment of unexpected boldness straightens her posture “He’s not the kind of guy who needs to go around kissing every girl he meets.”
I gift her a wide grin. Even though my character on the show can be heavy on the hookups, I don’t get around quite as much.
“Dante’s definitely not an alpha,” someone shouts toward me.
Jess’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Werewolves are overrated and overdone.”
Escalator Girl with attitude is hot, her verbal dart too tempting to let go. “Baby, that’s not what you said this morning.” I play up the hurt in my voice and clasp my chest.
The look on her face is priceless. Literally. Like the next time I get within her reach, it’s going to cost me one or both my balls.
My comeback triggers an avalanche of questions about my show, which Jess has clearly never watched. Why does her being an anti-groupie kick up my grin?
My phone vibrates again. I pull it out.
Two missed calls from David.
Two brutal strikes to my gut.
If he’s calling back again that means my Hail-Mary kiss is splashed all over social media.I’msplashed all over social media. And Mom? I mouth a silentsorryto Jess, back out of the room, and hit redial.
“This isn’tThe Bachelor,” David answers. “You’re not here to replace Kim. That stunt you pulled in the lobby is everywhere.”
“I know.” I head down the short hall.
“We said no Gabriel Wade bullshit. Everyone knows you’re here now. Fix it. Find a public reason to stay before you lead the press straight to Meredith.”
