Page 25 of The Accidental Beauty Queen
I can’t seem to sit down. I can’t seem to move at all. I’m paralyzed.
Breathe. Just breathe. He has no idea who you are.
Of course he doesn’t. The last time he saw me, I was wearing my glasses and one of my oversize nerdy, book-lover T-shirts. There wasn’t a speck of makeup on my face and, as Ginny so lovingly pointed out, my hair was scraped back in its usual ponytail.
I’m unrecognizable. Completely incognito.
Still, I’m shaken, and when I finally sink into the chair, it’s with an audible thud.
The corner of his mouth tugs into a half grin, and I catch a flash of the familiar dimple in his left cheek. My heart flutters. My stupid, stupid heart.
Say something.
“Howdy. I’m... I’m...” I stumble over my tongue. Heat crawls up the back of my neck.
I’ve never felt more like a fraud.
Say it. Justsay it.I’m Miss Texas.
“I’m...” I smile. At last I’ve found my voice, but before I can form the words, he finishes for me.
“Hermione.”
7
Icould deny it. Ishoulddeny it.
I know I should, especially when he studies me more closely, clears his throat, and says it again as a question rather than a statement of fact.
“Hermione?”
A glimmer of doubt is buried somewhere in the startling blue depths of his eyes, and I get the definite feeling that if I pretend I don’t understand what he’s talking about, he’ll drop it. He’ll realize I’m not me, and we can move on and proceed with the interview.
Except Iamme.
My hair isn’t mine, and neither are my lashes, my nails, my clothes, or these godforsaken shoes, but beneath all the sparkle, I’m still me.
Charlotte.
This awareness is more disappointing than it should be. Crushing, actually.
I’ve had no trouble at all impersonating my twin for the past half hour. Pretending has been ridiculously easy. But suddenly, passing myself off as Ginny seems impossible.
It’s as if I’ve told so many lies that I can’t force another one out of my mouth.
I swallow. Hard.This will be the lie that breaks me. “Um...”
My hesitation is the only answer he needs. His smile is full wattage this time. “I knew it was you.”
My insides do a bouncy little dance. How did he know? How could he have possibly seen the real me? I’m desperate for the answer, but I can’t ask. Obviously.
“My real name is Ginny Gorman.” I dig my fingernails into my palms. I’d almost saidCharlotte. “Miss Texas.”
“Of course.” He nods, and his smile dies a little on his lips.
I wait for him to officially introduce himself, but he doesn’t. He seems almost as thrown as I am by my sudden appearance at his judge’s table.
An uncomfortable, excruciating silence stretches between us. I glance at his name tag.
