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This is great news. Fabulous news. The very announcement I’ve been fervently hoping for, with fingers crossed, for weeks now…
So, why am I not squealing with joy and jumping out of my seat? The Olivia of three weeks ago would’ve done exactly that. She’d be over by the register right now, spilling about her big break to the barista. Getting congratulated and hugged. Flushed, buzzed, answering questions, squealing some more.
But here I am, bum still firmly on this wobbly wooden chair.
Here I am,frowningat my computer screen.
My gut feels twisty.
I read the entire email through a third time and wait for the excitement to filter in. Maybe I’m just in too much shock.
Maybe getting a huge, life-changing job opportunity out of the blue does that. I can’t feel the joy of it because I’m not ready to really let it in.
I sit back and close my computer, noting a slight tremor in my hands.
Out of thousands of applicants, I was chosen.
Me.
The email outlines the next steps: A producer is going to get in touch with me by phone to discuss my first filming opportunity.
They plan to open season seven of the show with me and Spencer on a beach in Bora Bora.
That is very, very far away from Silver Creek.
The timeline is tight, too. We’d fly out in less than two weeks—the day right after Trent and Maggie’s wedding, assuming the wedding happens.
That’s really soon.
Nausea swirls in my gut.
I nibble more bagel to see if I can settle my stomach. It only makes me feel worse.
This is crazy. I really should be happy right now. What’s wrong with me?Cole.
His name flits through my mind at lightning speed. But it’s impossible that a few days of play-acting with Cole has anything to do with this huge opportunity.
Yes, we’re bonding.
Yes, we’ve reached a new level of friendship.
And yes, these kisses—whether they're fake or real or something in between—make my toes curl.
But that can’t matter in the big picture. Can it? I mean, even if this isfun, it can’t last long-term. The bottom line is that we’re just friends. He wants to invite Danielle to Trent and Maggie’s wedding, anyway. We’re still planning on having a splashy fight on the last day of the retreat, as far as I know.
That’s why he agreed to this whole scheme anyway—to make Danielle jealous.
I wrap the second half of my bagel. I can’t eat any more of it, so the rest is going into the trash, not my tummy.
Even coffee is making me feel queasy. I set the half-full cup in a bus bin and consider my next move.
I can’t figure out what to make of what’s happening with Cole, and I don’t have to right now. I’m in town mostly to call my mother, so that’s what I better handle next.
I head for the door.
On the worn sidewalk outside I find an empty bench. It’s tippy and covered in peeling green paint, but it will do. I perch on the edge and pull out the slip of paper Maggie handed me yesterday. It has Beryl’s phone number scrawled on it, along with her new address.
I dial the number and tap my foot nervously on the dusty cement as I wait for her to pick up.
