Page 143 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“You... I... words. Forgot how to word.”
Flynn caught the glass before it could spill. “Smooth, brother.”
But Gryff wasn't listening. He was staring at me like he'd never seen me before, his mouth slightly open, eyes traveling from my face to the dress, over every inch of skin, and all my curves, the soft parts and the strong ones, and back again.
“You look...” he started, then stopped. “There aren't words. You broke words.”
“Very articulate,” Tempest laughed, stunning in her own silver gown. “Really showing off that college education.”
Vincent bleated from his pen, seeming to say I looked pretty. Though he was probably just hungry.
“Even the goat is more eloquent,” Flynn added.
Gryff finally found his voice. “You look beautiful. Like, stop traffic, start wars, write songs about you beautiful.”
“Mixing your metaphors there,” I said, but my face was warm.
“Don't care. Still true.”
The ride to the premiere was surreal. The documentary had gotten huge buzz. The behind-the-scenes look at League rookies during their first season was a popular show in the past, but FlixNChill had really upped their game following Kendra'stakeover. After Sloane's dramatic exit, she had turned it into something special. Just the previews looked more interesting than previous seasons of the show.
“There's already a red carpet,” Flynn said, peering out the limo window. “Like, an actual red carpet.”
“That's generally how red carpet premieres work,” Tempest said, grinning. “I hope we get to do one like this for when my show comes out.”
“Of course they will, babe. You're famous. It's just weird that this one is for us.”
The car stopped, and suddenly we were stepping into chaos. Cameras flashed from every direction, people were shouting our names, and someone with a headset was directing us where to stand.
“Gryff, Artemis. Over here.”
“Flynn, can we get you with Ms. Milan?”
“Jules, Jules. To your left.”
Jules was eating it up, posing like she'd been doing this her whole life. Then she grabbed my arm.
“Oh my god,” she hissed. “Fox Daws. Twelve o'clock.”
I looked. Fox Daws, movie star and college football player, was indeed walking the carpet ahead of us. We'd heard he was back in LA to film his next movie,Fresh Out Of Foxduring the off-season and summer.
“Go say hi,” I encouraged.
“I can't just?—“
But Fox had spotted us. He waved at the guys, then his eyes landed on Jules. He winked—actually winked—and called out, “Looking forward to seeing the Kingman Queens up on the big screen.”
Jules made a sound I'd never heard before, somewhere between a squeak and a giggle.
“Did he just—“ she started.
“He definitely did,” Tempest confirmed. “And you're definitely blushing.”
“I don't blush.”
“You're the color of a bright pink peony.”
We moved through the interviews, Flynn and Gryff charming reporters with their brotherly dynamic. Someone asked if Gryff and I were together, and he smoothly deflected with, “We're here to celebrate all the rookies tonight.”
