All This Time

31 ⦿ in which the shoe is on the other foot

I curl up under the still-warm covers, silently berating myself for showing him my lapse of composure. I nestle my cheek into the pillow and sigh. Even when he's not even trying, Wolf has a way of getting under my skin.

After a few minutes of stewing in my own frustration, the delicious smell of roasted chicken wafts through the slit under my door. He must have had it in the oven when I went out there. My stomach rumbles but after everything I admitted, there's no way I'm sauntering out there to grab some breakfast.

I roll onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow and emit a silent scream. My shoulders shake, my legs thrash in the air, and my fingers clench onto the sides of the pillow. Mini-tantrum over, I feel the tension leave my body, and I slump against the mattress, feeling my own hot breath against my face as I huff into the pillow.

My phone dings softly and I pull my head up in surprise only long enough to glance at the screen. Dash. I pull the blanket over my head and draw my knees up so it creates a tent over my body, then balance my phone upright on my stomach, reading the message.

Dash: I got a role on a reality show! 11:26 AM

I waste no time in calling him - he picks up on the first ring.

"Cara mia!" he exclaims, voice bright and happy.

"Still learning Italian?" My lips twist into a wry grin. "You may want to learn more than just two words."

He chuckles. "I'm scraping by. This friendship is a judgment-free zone, bella."

"So tell me all about this new gig, Dash!"

He does. His voice is uplifted in a way that I don't remember it being for a long time, and I'm so happy for him that I'm not even peeved when he apologetically tells me that filming starts immediately so he may have to end things with Liza.

"So wait," I say, flexing my toes, "they hired you to pretend to run into someone?" I'm more than a little confused.

His tone changes and it happens so seamlessly that it's almost imperceptible. "I mean, yeah," he says, sounding a little defensive. "They want me to get close to this girl who's on the show. Apparently she's the daughter of the producer—that's where she got the idea, actually, from her daughter's friend circle—and viewers think she's really boring and think a new love interest will make her stand out, otherwise they're gonna drop her from the show and her mom doesn't want to do that, so..."

"That sounds kind of sleazy," I say, trying to keep my voice as diplomatic as I can, considering how utterly reprehensible I find reality television. "Does the girl even know that it's a setup?"

"No." Dash's voice is resigned. "And technically you're not supposed to know, either, so mum's the word, Char."

"What's the show called, anyway?"

"Beautiful Dirty Rich. Like the Lady Gaga song."

"Eloquent," I mumble, which causes him to laugh.

"I know, it's not the greatest job, but it's a really popular show, and I think it could be my big break."

The phone is starting to feel a little warm against my ear, so I move it to the other side of my head. "And you're okay with this?" I ask curiously. 

"I mean, it's kind of shitty—but that's not my problem, it's her mother who got in touch with me—and it's not like they asked me to, you know, do anything with her."

I nod, even though I know he can't see me. As unethical as I find it, I can respect Dash's decision to pursue this opportunity. It seems ignorant to ignore, especially when it just fell in his lap the way that it did. "Be careful, Dash. Pretending can be dangerous."