Page 8 of Romance Is Dead

I sighed. “It does though.”

My decision to quit making movies at the age of twenty-nine after a twenty-one-year career may have been hasty, but it wasn’t without reason. The first strike was the reception of my most recent film, at the beginning of the summer. Maybe in retrospect, I should have known that a film calledZombie vs. Vampire: Battle of the Undeadwasn’t destined for greatness, but it was campy and fun and I loved it. Critics did not agree.

One reviewer called the movie “notable only for the towering heights of terribleness it achieves.” Another said they were “worse off having viewed it than if their eyeballs had been removed.” Several called out my performance in particular, with one claiming I must have “suffered zombification myself to agree to the film.”

Ouch.

As the rotten cherry on top of the shit sundae, my agent called a week after the premiere to say she was dropping me. She was retiring the following year, but apparently couldn’t bear to keep representing me until then.

As Mara and I sat around later that night slugging wine and mainlining Snickers in her apartment, I’d realized I was a year away from my thirties and not only was I at the lowest part of my career, but I was burnt out. I was tired. Tired of the cold scrutiny of auditions and the criticism of my performance in the roles I did manage to snag. Tired from making a movie almost every year since I was eight. Tired of the tabloids speculating about my body and blasting every detail of my personal life for the world to see. Just a week earlier, a TikTok from a Hollywood gossip account had gone viral for sayingHouse of Reckoningwould be a smash success—but only if they replaced me as the lead.

Still, my final decision to quit had been reserved for a month later, when I met Teddy for the first, awful time. That night had been enough to make me throw it all away for good.

“Things will get better. First days are always rough,” Mara said. “And hey, at least you have a hot co-worker to stare at every day.”

“Gross. You better not be talking about Teddy.”

“You’re still mad at him? You should have seen the way he filled out his sweatpants when he showed up first thing this morning.”

“Please never talk about his sweatpants area around me ever again.”

“Fine, but you should still give him a chance as a colleague. Or filming is going to be really miserable.” Mara glanced at her phone and stood, tapping something on the screen. “Are you coming back for the party or what? You know it’s tradition for the first night of filming.”

“I’m sorry. I really just want to be alone tonight.”

“Fine.” Mara sighed heavily, grabbing her bag. “You’ll have to make it up to me another time, though.”

I blew her a kiss. “I promise.”

As the door clattered shut behind her, I picked my blanket back up and tried to focus on stitching. But I couldn’t stop my thoughts from straying back to Teddy. He was an annoying itch I couldn’t scratch, an irritating noise that wouldn’t let me focus. Who didn’t know you had to have your lines memorized before filming began? Who couldn’t hit a mark without destroying an expensive prop and injuring themselves?

Someone whose only experience was a reality show.

My eyes strayed to the TV. I’d never seen an episode ofPleasure Island Paradise, but now I was curious. Maybe I could check out an episode, just to see.

For science.

The premise was simple enough: eighteen singles arrive on an island with the ultimate goal of finding a partner and becoming engaged. Drunken antics, formulaic storylines, and dramatics ensue.

Two hours later, I was halfway through the third episode.

Some of the contestants had fallen in love. Some had gone through devastating breakups. All favored wearing as little clothing as possible. Teddy was no exception, prancing around in nothing but a puka shell necklace and tight swim trunks as he flirted with every woman on the cast. I wanted to scoff, to make fun of the show’s ridiculousness. But honestly, it was pretty entertaining.

A sudden rapping on my trailer door yanked me out of my reality television reverie.

I jumped, giving a shrill yelp like the first hapless victim of a cheesy slasher. “Damn it, Mara.” I paused the TV in the middle of a challenge involving the contestants licking whipped cream off each other’s bodies and hurried to the door.

But it wasn’t Mara waiting for me. Standing at the bottom of the metal steps was Teddy. No longer in his football captain costume, he’d changed into dark jeans and a gray Henley, the top button undone and sleeves pushed up past his elbows. He looked surprised, as though he hadn’t expected me to answer.

“Um, hi.” It was jarring to see him after watching him swim shirtless in the ocean a moment ago on the TV. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to apologize. For earlier.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that.

“I. . . Can I come in? It’s getting chilly out here.”

“Uh. Sure.” I didn’t love the idea of him sticking around long enough to come inside, but I also didn’t want to miss an opportunity of being told I was right.

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