Mimeomia

17 | newspeak

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NEWSPEAK

( — ambiguous euphemistic language used chiefly in political propaganda. )

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

          THE FIRST THING MICHAELA DOES IS SHOVE HER HANDS INSIDE THE POCKETS OF LENNOX'S JACKET. It's not even because she's cold—it's a chilly evening, sure, but her cheeks are still hot from the heated space she has just walked out of—but because she fears for what might happen here, knowing she has an awful tendency to run her fingers through men's hair when she kisses them.

          Thankfully, Lennox has none. She had to place her hands elsewhere, but they made it work.

          She clears her throat when she feels the silence has dragged on for too long, with things growing more awkward by the second, as if it wasn't bad enough already. "Yes?"

          Lincoln runs a hand through his hair, finally ruining the elegant do. "I'm sorry. I hope I'm not ruining your plans, or anything." She shakes her head, knowing exactly which plans he's talking about, but said plans sneaked out of the show to go make out with her best friend, so she doubts any parties involved are particularly upset by this. "I really don't want this to be awkward."

          "I'm still listening."

          "Okay." He takes a deep breath, briefly glancing over his shoulder, and she realizes, with a punch to the gut, this is the most nervous she has seen him in a long time, similar to how he used to be right before sending the final manuscript of one of his novels to his editors. He wasn't this nervous when he proposed. "I, uh, have been . . . under a lot of pressure lately. You know, because of the book," he quickly adds. "I've never been that great at meeting deadlines and they've been all over me with this one, meaning they want to see something soon. But, uh, I can't send them anything without . . . without hearing back from you, because you know how important your feedback about this is. I'm not trying to rush you, or anything, and I know how busy you are, but, if you've read one chapter or two so far, I'd love to hear your opinion on what I should or shouldn't change. They think this one will sell even more than the previous ones. Even more than Vitality."

          Michaela huffs.

          Of course they think it's going to be a massive hit—everything about public relationships, especially those involving celebrities, sells pretty darn well. Granted, they were no Brangelina or Kimye, and they had no scandals that could have ruined their relationship and elevate their popularity at the same time, but people liked them together. Her low celebrity status came by association, both to him and to her mother, and she was pretty glad to fall back to the shadows of anonymity once everyone began to leave her alone, but people still knew her name.

          They found out plenty of her private details, which nearly got a bunch of gossip sites and celebrity fan pages in trouble with Ulysses Tate. She couldn't care less about people's interest in her favorite flavor of chewing gum or in her birth chart, as if astrology could dictate whether she was a good person or not. But they knew where she and Lincoln lived, their routines, where they did their shopping, and what they did on weekends and holidays, and the sudden loss of privacy she had fought so hard for terrified her.

          She wasn't made to be in the spotlight. She likes writing about those who were.

          "Yeah, sorry," Michaela eventually says, massaging her nose bridge. "I'm so sorry. I've already read it—all of it, I mean, and I wrote down plenty of stuff, but I've been so busy I forgot to mail it back to you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble with your editors, but I'll mail it to you as soon as I get home and clean my desk because, let me tell you, that thing looks like a hurricane just went through it." He throws her a delicate smile, fixing the neckline of his shirt. "I'm sorry. It's really good, though. I know you might have to change a few things here and there because your editors will tell you to, but, modesty aside, maybe my notes will help you with that."