“Oh, so perfect,” one of the wardrobe girls gushed when she saw me, and I told myself it was kind of cute and not at all weird that they cared so much what I’d be wearing under my clothes, since no one was going to see it.
Then one of the makeup girls walked in with a makeup palette, her little tool belt filled with brushes and sponges, and started painting over a bruise on my thigh with her magic makeup that made it look like I had no pores.
And that’s when it hit me.
These were my clothes.
Like, all of them.
Because apparently I was about to be filmed in Jesse Mayes’ music video wearing nothing but panties and a bra.
“Is there time for me to use the washroom before I go down?” I asked anyone who would listen, hot panic rising like bile in my throat.
“Sure,” the makeup girl said. “Just try not to smudge the makeup.”
I dashed into the bathroom and shut the door, just in time for the first heave. I grabbed onto the beautiful marble sink and wretched, as quietly as I could, my stomach clenching as I dry-heaved. Thank God nothing came up. Kind of glad now that I never actually got to eat any of that sushi.
I swallowed, heaved, swallowed again, and focused on getting control of my breath. Aerosmith was rocking “Sweet Emotion” on the sound system in the next room, so at least I knew no one could hear me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed, long, slow and deep. Then I dug through the pockets of my discarded jeans and found my phone. I called Devi with fumbling hands, a toxic blend of nerves, anger and humiliation broiling in my gut.
“Is he as hot as you remembered?” she answered, and I could hear the self-satisfied smile in her voice.
“Hotter. Devi. What the fuck.”
“Huh? Are you okay?” Alarmed. She sounded alarmed now and I would’ve felt bad if I wasn’t still swallowing down the bile.
“Did you know they want me to do this thing in panties and a bra?”
“Oh,” my best friend said. “That.”
“Yes, that,” I hissed. I would’ve straight-up yelled at her for the first time in our lives if I wasn’t afraid all the pretty people in the next room might hear me. I tugged at the skimpy lace of the boy shorts which now felt several sizes smaller than when I first put them on, trying, and failing, to cover more of my ass.
“Katie, Jesus. Seriously, are you okay? You sound all frothy.”
“Yes, because I’m foaming at the mouth. You never told me I’d be doing this thing naked.”
“One. Panties and a bra does not equal naked. You wear less at the beach. That sexy-ass string bikini of yours?”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
Ugh. I hated it when she out-argued me. Which she did all the time. Hence, me standing here in sexy underwear that wasn’t even mine. “I don’t know. It just is.”
“It’s not. And two. I didn’t get around to telling you they’d changed the plan because I knew you’d freak out and bail and I really, really think you should do this.”
“What do you mean, they changed the plan?”
“That party scene thing? They called yesterday to say they’d altered it a bit, so your scene with Jesse will now be a one-on-one thing. Like, just the two of you.”
Just the two of us?
What was she talking about?
“Devi, what the hell did you sign me up for?”
“Nothing. It’s just a love scene.”
Cold. I suddenly felt shivering cold. But the contents of my stomach… a churning ball of hot lava. “What do you mean, a love scene?”
Like, sex?
Simulated sex, on camera?
With Jesse Mayes? Hottest guy in the universe?
Hot panic. Bile rising…
I swallowed hard.
“All you have to do is fake make out with Jesse,” Devi said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “He’s gorgeous, right? And you were all worried you’d have to dance on cue or strut around or something. This way, you don’t even have to perform.”
Right. Because pretending to make out with a super hot rock star while a camera crew filmed it was a daily occurrence for me. Totally natural.
“Not to mention I got you more money. You know, for doing it in your skivvies.”
Slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
“Katie?”
“I’m breathing.”
“Where the hell are you?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Okay… so breathe and then get your ass out there. We went over this. We drank wine. Remember? You’re gonna rock this.”
Rock this. Right. Despite Devi’s confidence in me, I was pretty sure Jesse Mayes was the one who was going to rock this.
I was very possibly going to throw up.
For the first time since I started dry-heaving, I caught my reflection in the mirror: the reflection of the girl who was about to fake make out with Jesse Mayes.
Half-naked.
I blinked and stared, trying to imagine that girl in a music video.
She had a lot more makeup on than usual, but okay… it’s not like there was nothing there to work with. Face kind of heart-shaped. Symmetrical features. Slender, arched eyebrows and decently high cheekbones. Full lips. Largish blue-green eyes framed by dark lashes. Pale Irish skin with a few micro-freckles dusted across a decently cute nose.
I looked over my figure in the lingerie, which was much sexier than I’d realized, now that I was seeing it through the eyes of the girl who was about to wear it in front of Jesse Mayes. I’d always been kind of petite, nothing like the other women they’d hired for this, but at least I had curves. I used to be a tomboy, actually. A skater kid, I dressed like the boys I hung out with and looked like them too. It was hard not to still see that girl in the mirror. I was kind of a late bloomer, but I had bloomed.
And someone liked what they saw, enough to hire me for this, right?
“Katie?” Devi sounded worried now.
