Page 54 of Fan Favorite

“So,” Peter said, turning back to Edie, “you look fantastic.”

But the way he said it, with this singsongy lilt, the way he drew outfantastic.So! You look fan-tasssssssss-tic!

She turned to him. “Do I?”

“Of course.”

“Then why do I feel like that’s not what you mean?”

Peter shrugged. “I mean, sure, generally I’m against the erasure of individuality in pursuit of a homogenous Instagram aesthetic that appropriates features from various ethnic groups and serves to perpetuate impossible beauty standards for women already oppressed by a patriarchal society. But for you I’ll make an exception. You look very attractive.” He smiled at her, and he was infuriatingly handsome. “See? I’m a feminist. Intersectional, even. Don’t forget I went to Brown.”

“Wow, I’m so glad the Ivy League stopped by to mansplain beauty to me. I feel so confident and ready for this date now, thanks!” Suddenly, in the face of Peter’s judgment, lying prone across the back seat of a limo felt intensely embarrassing. Fuck the dress. Edie shimmied up the seat, so she was at his level. Jessa had told her specifically that Peter was all about the makeover! “I’m confused,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to be beautiful enough for Bennett Charles?”

But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. During the entire makeover process, she’d tried to keep herself sort of detached, like it was just one of those funny things that happened when you went on reality TV. But now the truth hung in the air between them. Because didn’t becoming beautiful matter a helluva lot? Wasn’t being beautiful the final step to getting everything she wanted? A sick feeling of mortification at her own shallow ideals swelled in her stomach and pressed against her Spanx.

“C’mon, you know that’s not what I meant,” Peter said while Edie tried to fold an arm over her chest. Suddenly the gown, the makeup, the hair—all of it seemed like an outward symbol of her ridiculousness, her try-hardness, her childishness. But every way she placed her arm only accentuated her cleavage more and she could feel Peter noticing. She gave up and they caught eyes. “I’m just sayingpersonally, I don’t need you to look like everyone else,” he continued. “I liked how you looked before. Like a real person. Butempirically, you look great.” He smiled, and his unchecked arrogance was infuriating.

“Whatever.” Edie shifted onto one hip to stare out the window again. The limo was exiting the highway and gliding down the palm-lined streets of Beverly Hills.

Peter sighed. He dug around his pocket and produced some Tums. For a moment, the only sound was the pop of the Tums against his molars.

Finally, the masticating concluded. “Look, I’m sorry. Clearly, I’ve said all the wrong things. Sometimes I act smart when I’m nervous. It’s a problem. You look beautiful. You do.”

She looked at him again and his face was sweet and kind, except everything about him was suspect now. He’d gotten into the limo knowing she would care if he thought she looked pretty. How could she not? So much money and time had been spent on this, like she was some sort ofTrading Spacesforty-eight-hour project. And she’d gone along with it because she’d wanted to be beautiful. And then shewasbeautiful. And then he’d made her feel stupid on the biggest night of her life. Why?

“Why are you here, Peter?” she demanded.

“Should I not be here?” His head cocked. “This is my show, you know.”

“Exactly. It’s your show. So tell me what you want. You don’t need to manipulate me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

“Is it so hard to believe I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

Edie glared at him.

“Jeez, all right,” he said, hands up in surrender. “But I’m not here to manipulate you. Wait, when did I manipulate you?”

“Oh, I dunno, how about when you got me to wear that stupid swimsuit and made me play sports on TV?”

He made a face. “That was manipulation? I thought I was facilitating your eventual marriage to Bennett Charles.”

She didn’t say anything.

Peter sighed dramatically. “Okay, look,” he began after a moment. “This is actually a good segue into what I’ve been thinking about. About what I want. What you want. What Bennett wants. And I think we’re aligned. But then…” He struggled to find the words. “But then I worry something’s off. And that it’s gonna blow up in our faces.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s just this whole situation—”

“What ‘situation’?”

“You know, this situation.” He paused. “It’s a crisis of conscience, maybe. Honestly, I blame you. I’m not normally like this.” He massaged the muscles at the base of his neck before dropping his hand and looking at her again, something beseeching in his eyes. “It’s just that you’re not like the other girls, Edie. It’s fucking me up a bit. You actually want something. What? Love? And I’m just not sure I can give that to you. The other girls, they’ll be fine. To them, fawning over Bennett is just an occupational hazard. A first step toward hawking tummy tea to tweens on Instagram. They’re not girls who will get seriously hurt; they’ve got whole other lives. But you—if this doesn’t work out, will it crush you?”

A hot fire of indignation sparked inside Edie, obliterating all her previous insecurity. It was one thing for Edie to think she wasn’t good enough. It was entirely another for stupid Peter Kennedy to think it.

“You don’t think I can do this,” she said, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “You came here because you don’t think Bennett Charles could fall in love with someone as average as me.”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

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