Page 101 of When Stars Collide
I heard his sigh from the other end of the line, certain it was accompanied by an eye roll. “Please tell me we’re still talking about the magazine.”
The magazine in question was none other thanHollywood Now; one of the most popular publications following the entertainment world. A fact of which I hadn’t cared to know until photographs from theSoldiers of Atlantispremiere graced its pages, including a rather sizable—in my opinion—photograph of Phineas and I together, looking more like a couple than colleagues. And I wasn’t the only one who had arrived at that conclusion. Someone from the office had thoughtfully placed a copy of the magazine on my chair with a note stuck to it that read simply:
Page 62
Aren’t you two cute?
For the rest of the day, I felt like all eyes in the office were on me. Every single person either suspecting or outright knowing that Phineas and I were doing the deed. It made me uncomfortable, and I purposely avoided making eye contact with everyone for fear I would catch a hint of the judgment that was surely in their eyes. By the grace of God, the magazine came out on a Friday, and, coincidentally, I’d already made plans to get the hell out of dodge to join Elle and company for her bachelorette party in Roanoke.
“Of course, I’m still talking about the magazine. Although …”
“Mena …” I could almost see him blushing with the way he said my name.
“Okay, okay, I’ll keep my observations to myself.” I laid back on the bed in the suite I’d booked at one of the nicer hotels in Roanoke, a pre-wedding present to Elle, who along with Kirsten, Violet, and Alex, would be joining me tomorrow.
“Elle and Luke’s wedding, it must be coming up pretty quickly, then?”
“In four weeks.”
“Have you put any thought into who your plus one is going to be?”
“Yeah, actually. I thought I’d just pluck some hapless soul off the street, doll him up like a reverseShe’s All That, and make him the most popular man the Roanoke wedding scene has ever seen before.”
“Seriously?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”
“I mean, I am a proper lady and all, and … Seriously, it wasn’t that funny, Phin.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, still snickering.
“Fine. Phin, would you like to be my plus one at the wedding?”
“I would be honored.”
“You’d better be.” I yawned, the hustle and bustle of the day catching up to me.
“I’ll let you go before you fall asleep with the phone in your hand. Text me when you’re back in New York so I know you made it in okay?”
“Christ you’re needy.”
“Goodnight, Mena.”
“Night, Phin.”
Up until today when the magazine came out, Phineas and I had managed to keep a low profile at the office, purposely avoiding small talk with each other to keep our interactions as professional as possible. But, in hindsight, if anyone had truly been paying attention, they probably would have figured it out. Between a purposeful brush of the hand, a lingering glance here and there, and a slight spring in both of our steps, the signs were subtle, yet they were there to be seen by anyone paying attention. What wasn’t evident was exactly what Phineas and I even were. Friends with benefits? Lovers? Dating? We hadn’t had that conversation yet, allowing our bodies to do the talking for us, instead. Maybe it was because neither of us truly knew the answer to that question. We’d both been hurt and, at least as far as I was concerned, it was nice to be able to just feel something again.
*****
My hair repelled curls, and I wasn’t surprised that even after a full-on assault with my curling iron, I still wasn’t able to generate much more than a slight wave, which I aggressively assailed with hairspray to keep in place. It would have to do. Such was the life of a girl with straight, stringy hair.
A series of knocks startled me as I curled my eyelashes, and I nearly yanked them out with an involuntary jerk of my arm. Inspecting my eye in the mirror, I dabbed away the mascara that had been smeared at the corner. Apparently, the twenty seconds this act took to perform was fifteen seconds too long. More aggressive than before, what I guessed were three pairs of hands battered the door in a frenzy. If this was a prelude to the rest of the night, I would seriously have to consider rescinding my offer to Elle and let someone else be the sober, responsible friend at the bachelorette party.
“It’s too early for this,” I groaned, opening the door to reveal Elle, Violet, and Kirsten standing before me. Behind them, away from their antics, Alex stood looking just as uncomfortable as I felt.
“It’s three in the afternoon,” Elle responded, entering the room with the others.
