Welcome To The Media (Dylmas AU)

19. A Case of Denial

Dylan's pov

Three days later

"It's really not that hard," Kaya said, casting a glance at me over her shoulder. Her black hair cascaded down her back in perfect curls, her eyes glistening with makeup as she shrugged, as if to further prove her point.

I rolled my eyes as I followed her off set, using a damp towel to (attempt) to wipe off some of the dirt on my face. Our footsteps echoed off the walls as we hurried down a barely-lit hallway, each stride making my stomach sink even further towards my knees. Kaya's eyes flicked forward again as we finally emerged in a room I had never explored before, cameras and lights filling the majority of the room.

Despite the fact that I was exhausted from filming all day, my stomach still managed to do backflips as I looked towards the two chairs centered in front of at least a dozen people. The day had finally come. I couldn't avoid it any longer. Today, we would be filming our on-set interviews.

I gulped. My first ever on-set interview.

Tearing my eyes away from the two seats, I glanced at Kaya, muttering broodingly, "You've done this a hundred times; of course it's not hard for you."

Kaya turned, her eased expression conveying how comfortable she was with the situation. She took a step closer to me and used her hands to straighten out my suede jacket, all the while shaking her head at me, as if saying, 'stop being an idiot, dumbass'. Then she grabbed the damp cloth out of my hand, reminding me of a mother as she rubbed hard at some particularly stubborn grime on the tip of my nose.

When she had finished pruning my outfit and making me look cute, she looked me in the eye and said bluntly, "You'll be fine. Just don't be a dick."

I rubbed my sweaty palms together as she stepped back. I nodded slowly, saying, "Got it. Don't be a dick. You got anymore life-saving advice?"

The sarcastic words wormed their way out of my mouth, and Kaya rolled her eyes impatiently.

"Honestly, I don't get why you're so afraid. What's the worst that could happen?" she asked.

I sucked in a breath and released it slowly, glancing over at the two chairs where the interview would take place again. They looked quite like death traps, I decided. Or perhaps torture chairs? Yes, torture chairs seemed most fitting, as every second I spent under the blinding lights would be comparable to an agonizing hell.

My heartbeat was steadily increasing as I thought over Kaya's question. Possible scenarios flashed through my head, each one worse than the last. My eyes widened as I saw myself throwing-up on the interviewer, or having a sudden heart attack, or--was it a full moon?--then maybe I'd turn into a werewolf and eat everyone--or, oh god, what if I suddenly get really sexual and get turned on?--or what if my head explodes because--

"Okay, okay, okay! Stop thinking about the worst thing that could happen!" Kaya sputtered upon seeing my panicked expression. Her hands rested on my shoulders, trying to comfort me, and for a moment, it worked. But then she continued, "Whatever, you're thinking, it won't occur. I promise. I mean, the only possible worst case scenario is that you slip up and say something really embarrassing or awful. Like, so bad that no director ever wants to hire you again so you'd lose your entire career and you'd go broke and--"

"Kaya!" I exclaimed in alarm. I wasn't even thinking like that. Oh god--

"Sorry," she apologized as a look of horror dawned on her face. "I'm not very good at the whole 'comforting' thing, am I?"

I frantically shook my head, gulping again. My throat was tight and I was definitely more nervous than I should be. I mean, it's just an interview. But Kaya's words were now haunting my thoughts, and I could feel my knees weakening at the very prospect of screwing up the interview that badly. What if she was right? What if I really really messed up?