Page 85 of All the Drama from New York

Ryan clamped his teeth on his tongue, determined to hold back on that spiteful remark. He was tempted to tell Kaylee some cold hard truths, but in the short time they’d spent together this week he had come to realize she wasn’t interested in anyone else’s opinion—she just wanted to be rich and famous.

His cell phone buzzed, and Ryan picked it up. As soon as he opened the message from Camille, his heart sank.

Woke up feeling awful.

Not able to do much

Come home soon. Cami

Camille was still unwell.

He should be home and doing something about getting her a doctor. Not wasting his time with this stupid tv show.

The smack of a clapper board stirred Ryan from his thoughts. “Ok, let’s do the ‘I’ve missed you so much’ scene again. And this time Ryan could you please make it look like you are excited to see Kaylee.”

I really don’t want to be here. I want to be with Camille.

The set up for the scene was Ryan and Kaylee accidently meeting one night when Ryan came to her apartment to deliver food. The branded delivery service, who were paying a ton of cash to be featured on the show, was meant to be his employer. It was all so totally lame, but until he could find a way out of the contract, he was stuck.

Clothed in the bright blue and white uniform of the food company Ryan stood outside in the hallway, and on cue knocked on the door. Kaylee who was dressed like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine spread rather than someone who’d beensitting in front of the tv waiting on a food delivery, swung open the door.

She took one look at him and exclaimed. “Ryan Collins is that you?”

Like she’d only take half a second to recognize a guy she hasn’t seen in four years. And who no longer looks like Thor.

He’d fought Derick Stad tooth and nail on that last bit. The showrunner had wanted him to lighten his hair once more and let the viewers at home relive lots of great memories.

But since nowhere in his contract did it specify that Ryan had to have his hair bleached, he’d held out.

“Yes, it is. I have your food delivery ma’am,” he replied, his voice flat and dull. He hadn’t deliberately meant for his line to come across so tedious, but lack of sleep and worry over Camille was catching up with him.

Each night when he returned home, he had a ton of fashion week work to catch up on. Sheila was helping out as best she could, but she had her own full time job as Bryce’s executive assistant.

None of the temp agencies had been able to source a candidate who didn’t require Camille to spend many hours training them from the ground up—which meant the bulk of the work still fell to Ryan to handle.

Ryan held out the bag of food he was meant to deliver to Kaylee, and pressed it into her hands. She let out a happy squeal and set the delivery down. Arms wide open, she launched herself at him. “Oh my Ryan, I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long.”

Fuck, that wasn’t in the script.

He barely had time to flinch before Kaylee was pressing herself against him, and clasping his cheeks tightly in her immaculately manicured hands. She pulled his face down to hers.

She was going to kiss him.

Like hell she was.

He dug his sneakers into the carpet, leaned back and cried. “Kaylee please!”

“Ryan you never have to say please. Yes. Yes.” She drew closer.

“And cut!”

Kaylee’s hands dropped away, and she took a step back. The makeup people rushed to gather around her. They added more lipstick to her already heavily painted lips. While the studio bosses would no doubt love the kiss marks Kaylee’s overdone lips would leave on Ryan’s face, he just felt violated.

I’m done. Let them sue. I have nothing for them to take.

Camille was the one woman whose lips would be touching his skin. She was the only woman he wanted.

After ripping the microphone off the lapel of his shirt, and pulling up the battery pack from where it had been taped to his lower back, Ryan handed the equipment to a nearby assistant.

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