The Cheat Sheet

by Adams, Sarah

  The door opens to a cute smiling blonde with a tight top and overflowing cleavage that I admittedly am 100% jealous of.

  Tim looks bored, bless him. “Nathan, this is Aubrey. She’ll be doing your hair and makeup.”

  “Hey Aubrey,” Nathan says with a grin and a nod that I know is fake but Aubrey clearly eats up because her pores start emitting sunbeams. And really, I get it. He’s so huge and ridiculously hot, and his deep growly voice is intoxicating if you’re into all that kinda stuff, but seriously, Aubrey, pick your heart up off the floor and get to work. He’s mine! Uh, wait, what? No.

  He’s fake mine.

  Fake fake fake fake fake. Not real. If our relationship was a purse, it would be a Proda and sold to someone out of the trunk of a car.

  Aubrey bounces lightly on her feet. She can’t wait to get her hands on Nathan. “If you want to come on in and take a seat, we can get started.” That sparkle in her eye makes me think she’s going to get started on her lap dance rather than hair and makeup, and I consider jutting my foot out and tripping her. Yeah, I’m the jealous type. Poor thing hasn’t even done anything wrong and I’m plotting her demise. I feel like I should apologize to this professional woman for degrading her actions. My inner territorial cavewoman is getting out of control lately, and I need to get a grip.

  Tim pulls me from my stormy attitude. “Bree? Let’s keep walking. You’re down this way.”

  The moment I have to drop Nathan’s hand, my stomach twists. I did not anticipate being this nervous to leave his side. It’s just that I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m not even given a chance to look back at Nathan before Tim has us practically jogging down the hallway.

  “I know you don’t have a manager, so Nathan has me acting as yours today, if that’s okay with you?” He doesn’t give me a chance to actually answer. “Your dinner is also in your dressing room, but Nathan had me order you chicken tacos from Chipotle, extra guac. Was that right?” He flings open a dressing room door and the smell of delicious tacos slaps me in the face. A little smile curls my lips because…I wasn’t forgotten. Nathan thought ahead to have them cater my favorite meal.

  “That’s perfect.”

  “Great. This is Dylan”—he points toward a smiling guy who looks about my age and is laying out makeup brushes on the beauty counter—“and he’s going to be doing your hair and makeup. Joy will be by in a bit to drop off your wardrobe. Eat fast—we have an hour until you’re needed on set. Harrison, the director, and Cindy, the producer, will be by at some point to talk to you about the script. Don’t post any photos of anything happening today, leave that up to me. And if you need something, ask me and no one else. Do you need anything?”

  I shake my head quickly, feeling a little shell shocked from that tornado of a speech.

  “Good. I’ll be back in twenty. She’s yours now, Dylan.” Before he fully walks out of the room, Tim stops and turns back to me. “Oh, and Bree? I’m glad you and Nathan are together. He’s better with you.” I guess Tim hasn’t been filled in on the actual terms of our relationship and the fact that we are Proda.

  Tim disappears through the door, and I let out a deep breath.

  Dylan chuckles. “Are you ready for your name quiz now? List everyone he just mentioned in perfect order or you’re kicked off the set.” The sparkle in his eyes gives him away.

  “Umm, was it Sam, Brittney, and Tina?” I answer incorrectly on purpose.

  He laughs again and steps forward to extend his hand. “Ding-ding-ding! Correct. And now you win a delicious taco dinner!”

  “I was sort of hoping for a car,” I say with a bummed face as he guides me to the makeup chair.

  “Well, you’re in luck! This extra guac your boyfriend requested for you has the same value as a car. Maybe you could pawn it for extra cash or something?”

  I love him. The surest way to my heart is to play along with bad jokes. He’s almost helping me forget I’m on a set right now and my whole world as I know it is turning upside down.

  “I’m Bree, by the way,” I say as he plops a glorious-smelling Chipotle box in my hands.

  “Oh, I know. Even if your name wasn’t plastered outside the door and I hadn’t been given a photo of you ahead of time, I’d still know those dimples anywhere. You’ve been all over my Instagram and Twitter feed lately.” He immediately starts sliding his fingers through my hair in an inspecting and appreciating sort of way. “I won’t even pretend I’m not slightly obsessed with you and your curls and dimples. I almost died when they hired me to do your hair and makeup. When I told my boyfriend, he was so jealous his skin actually turned green.”

  I laugh and make a weird face because A) I don’t know how to take compliments, and B) He can’t be serious. I’m the most average person who’s ever walked the face of the earth.

  “These?” I bat my hand at my curls. “Bleh. They’re ridiculously hard to tame.”

  He looks offended as he claps a hand over his heart. “Who said anything about taming?! Why would anyone want to subdue these gorgeous curls? No, I’m planning to put even more pep in their step.” Dylan moves behind me, eyeing my curls from all angles in that intense way only hairstylists do when they are imagining what could be. It’s a little terrifying.

  He narrows his gaze and tilts his head as I take a huge bite of my taco.

  “You know? I think we’ll lean into the whole girl-next-door look. America loves you so we’ll keep you looking sweet as apple pie.” He leans in close, eyes twinkling. “Although, if you’re dating Nathan Donelson, I don’t think anyone expects you to be too innocent.”

  I almost spit my taco out. Instead, I suck it into my windpipe and settle for a life-threatening coughing fit. Dylan pats my back, and my face turns bright red.

  He smiles like the Cheshire Cat once my coughing is under control. “I knew it,” he says, going to work on my hair and spritzing it with water then pulling some products out of his gigantic travel kit. “That ex of his tried to make him look bad with the article, but no one believed it. There’s too much gossip that suggests otherwise. So, be honest, no use lying to me because I can read a poker face from a mile away—he’s a freak in the sheets, isn’t he?”

  My stomach jumps out of an airplane. I know nothing about Nathan in that capacity. We are not even the kind of friends who joke around about it. We keep that conversation zipped up tight because I think subconsciously we both know there are just some boats you can’t rock in a friendship. Therefore, I have no idea how much Nathan’s boat rocks at night.

  But I’m his “girlfriend” and I’m expected to know.

  I widen my eyes and put on what I hope is a sultry sort of a smile. Like I’m picturing a memory of Nathan’s muscley, tan body wrapped up in white bed sheets with the sun shining over his shoulders. Actually…I am picturing it pretty easily. “Oh yeah, total freak in the sheets. A real tiger. Earned his stripes for sure. No one has ever blown my mind like Nathan Donelson.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.”

  NO! That voice did not come from Dylan. It came from my best friend leaning against the open dressing room door looking like a smug devil.

  I inhale my taco on a gasp again, and suddenly, Dylan has my hands over my head trying to make sure I don’t die in this dressing room. But I want to. Just let me go, Dylan! I can see the light!

  Nathan swoops in beside me, crouching down and chuckling while patting my back. “You okay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I give my throat one last epic clearing then force myself to meet Nathan’s eyes. His hair is now tousled and shining to perfection, and he’s wearing black dress pants and a white button-down tucked in. The top few buttons are undone, and I’m going to choke again.

  “Yep! Good to go. Dylan is taking good care of me.”

  Nathan’s dark eyes glint. “Not too good, I hope. That’s my job—and according to what I just heard, I’m doing it really well.”

  Dylan makes a strangled squealing sound then turns away
to give us some privacy while he goes to dig around in his travel kit again.

  I take the opportunity to point a stern finger at Nathan. “Don’t ever bring this up again! I panicked, okay? He was digging for gossip and I didn’t want him to find out the truth. Would you rather me say you’re a lousy lover like Kelsey did and WHAT is that face about?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing. You’re just awfully defensive.”

  I feel my cheeks heating and refuse to let them grow rosy. I REFUSE. “Why are you in here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in there with Aubrey getting made up or enjoying a lap dance or something?”

  He tips a brow. “Now we’re jealous?”

  I groan. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Well, good. Because the lap dance really wasn’t anything to write home about anyway.”

  I punch him in the shoulder just as Dylan comes to stand behind me again to finish his work. He has the face of a man who is trying to look like he’s not eavesdropping but is very clearly memorizing every word we say so he can repeat it later. Oddly, I don’t mind. I kind of hope he does.

  “Kidding.” Nathan glances up at Dylan and then back to me. His eyes aren’t joking anymore. They are just Nathan looking back at me. His eyes shift to one of the curls hanging beside my face, and he tugs it gently. “Tim whisked you off so quickly, and I was just coming to make sure everything is good with you. Do you need anything?”

  I swallow, realizing how different this feels than I predicted. His eyes aren’t distant like I’ve seen him look with previous girlfriends when they’re in public. He’s not too busy to check on me. He’s twirling my curl between his finger and thumb. Don’t freak out—it’s probably all for show.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m a little disoriented, but I’ll get used to it.” I regret those words as soon as I say them. I won’t get used to it, because I won’t let myself. No getting comfortable in this life. No enjoying it.

  Nathan smiles wider, and he leans in slowly to brush a kiss on my cheek.

  Once he goes back to his dressing room, Dylan shakes his head at me in the mirror. “Where’s that manager of yours? I need a bucket of ice to dip my face in.”

  I laugh softly and turn my attention back to my tacos, trying to ignore the tugging sensation in my heart.

  Later that night, after we pull up in front of my apartment and I sprint out of the SUV, leaving Nathan in my dust by telling him I’m not feeling good, I immediately call the one person I know will help me sort out my ricocheting feelings, the one person I never hide anything from.

  “Hello?”

  “Lily, something’s wrong!” I say, shutting my front door and leaning my back against it.

  “What! What’s wrong?!”

  “I had a fantastic day.”

  She growls. “I’m going to kill you when I see you next. You gave me a heart attack.”

  “I’M THE ONE HAVING A HEART ATTACK!” I say, pressing my hand firmly over my chest like she can see my dramatic performance.

  In the words of Mrs. Bennet, she has no sympathy for my poor nerves!

  “Okay, hang on. I need to get some ice cream and then you can tell me what happened. DOUG, I’M GOING OUT ON THE PORCH TO TALK TO B.”

  Once Lily is settled, I tell her all about filming the commercial. I explain how I was supposed to hate it, feel like a fish out of water, and be counting down the minutes until I could get home and put on my PJs. But none of that happened. I loved every second of it. Once I got used to it, I loved how hectic it was. I loved how all the important people there made me feel like I actually belonged. I thought Nathan’s world was supposed to be like Mean Girls and I wouldn’t be allowed to sit at the cool table because I wasn’t one of them, but everyone was incredibly nice and helpful, and the crew was hilarious. Everyone was joking and playing around in between takes, and it felt so natural to me.

  But being next to Nathan through all of it…that was something I can barely explain with words. I’ve seen him in his element countless times, but it’s always from the sidelines wayyyyy far away from where he is. Today, I was with him in the center of it all, and we were focused on each other.

  “I don’t know, Lily, but while we were filming, everything was easy. We worked seamlessly together, and even the director commented on how smooth each take went. It all just felt oddly…normal. And fun.”

  “And the problem?”

  “The problem is that at some point during all of this, I forgot we were pretending to be a couple! I forgot, Lily! And Nathan was…” I sigh remembering the feel of all the little touches he constantly gave me. Remembering the way his hand splayed out firmly on my low back. Remembering how my whole nervous system hummed to life when he smiled at me like I was the only woman in the world for him. “It was nothing like I expected it to be. I don’t know…it was almost like he was feeling what I was feeling.”

  She’s dead silent for a beat before she bursts out laughing. So loud. So over the top I have to pull my phone away from my ear. “OF COURSE HE WAS, YOU LOONEY TUNE, BECAUSE HE LIKES YOU TOO!”

  “Okay, well name-calling is not nice.”

  “Bree, I want to shake you right now. Have you truly never thought Nathan has feelings for you?”

  “Never! But can you stop being so intense for a second, because I’m freaking out and you’re not helping.”

  She sighs deeply. “Can’t we just skip this freak-out, you can run back over to his place and get it on, and then you can call me in the morning to tell me I’m right and you’ll listen to me from now on?”

  “No,” I say firmly. “I’m not going over to his place and there will not be any getting it on. I won’t do a fling with Nathan.”

  “Umm, I hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of in one now.”

  “THE FAKE KIND!”

  “Now you’re yelling. Just shush a little. So you don’t want a fling? Fine. But that doesn’t mean you have to freak out just because you think he might have feelings for you too. Maybe you can use this opportunity with Nathan to explore some of the boundaries you’ve put up in the past. Treat it like a real relationship starting from ground zero and see if something new develops between you two naturally.”

  I sigh, mentally reciting a thousand reasons why that could go wrong. “Then I’ll be opening my heart up to hope, and that’s what I promised myself I wouldn’t let it have during all of this. It might end badly, and then I’ll be friendless.”

  “Bree, hope is healthy. Even if you prepare yourself for the worst in life, it will never make the fall hurt less. So why not let yourself really and truly want this instead? And then, if things end badly, I’ll help you eat your feelings.”

  I think back to Nathan today, and my skin lights up like a circuit board, zinging with energy in every single place he touched me. I want to give in to that hope Lily is talking about, but I’m too scared. I’d rather just wait until it’s a sure thing. You know, until he drops down on his knee and has a ring kind of sure thing?

  “I think I need to do the opposite. I need to implement MORE rules until this is all over.”

  She groans, deeply discouraged by me. “Why do you even call me about stuff like this? Next time just talk to your wall if you’re not going to listen to my advice.”

  “Grumpy much?”

  “Yes! Because you think you’re in such a good place right now. You tell me all the time how happy you are that the course of your life changed and you’re working in the studio now instead of dancing in a company, but you don’t see what I see.” I don’t like this shift. Lily is not teasing now.

  “I am happy, Lily. I love being an instructor, and my life is more full than it used to be.”

  “I know you’re happy at the studio and you’re making the most of how things turned out, but I also see something else. After the accident, you stopped letting yourself dream completely.” She pokes an old wound I didn’t know was still there. “You went to therapy, and you learned to grieve the future you planned for an
d that was all great and helpful, but then it’s like you learned to cope so well you completely stopped hoping for anything. You’re seriously the queen of making the most of what you have now, but I’m not sure that’s completely healthy. Not if it means never dreaming or striving for more.”

  My instant reaction is to defend myself. After the car accident and my surgery, I shut down. Depression and anxiety were heavy, and even just getting out of bed in the morning was difficult. I pushed Nathan away completely, and then after he went off to college and everything felt even harder, my mom and dad got me into therapy. It was the best thing they could have done for me. I learned how to properly grieve ballet as I knew it, and little by little, my life got brighter. One day, I realized I was feeling happy again. I was doing the emotional work and the physical work to get my body moving again in a new way. Sure, I had limits, but I learned to work within them and appreciate what my body could do instead of focusing on what it couldn’t.

  Bottom line, until ten seconds ago when my sister just dropped a bomb on my heart, I thought the wounds from my accident were healed. I thought my mental work was done. But is she right? Do I not let myself hope for more out of life?

  My mind races not just to Nathan, but to the studio. I’ve been so unwilling to work toward making any dreams come true concerning it. Now that Lily has pointed it out, it’s almost as if I can hear my hope screaming from a locked closet in my heart. I want that non-profit space more than anything, but I’ve been terrified to hope for it. I want Nathan, but I’m petrified to lose him.

  I can see that my sister is right, but I don’t know how to snap my fingers and change the way I feel. My scars remind me of that crushing disappointment I felt at seventeen and how hard it was to piece myself back together afterward. I don’t want to go through that again. So yeah, maybe I’m missing a little bit of hope, but to me, it’s a small price to pay to avoid shattering again.

  As far as Nathan and I are concerned, I just need to hold on and get through this fake relationship until we go back to BFFs who don’t touch. Then, after that, I’ll be open to starting a new relationship with someone else where I won’t have so much to lose.