The Trouble With Quarterbacks - R.S. Grey Page 0,61
to the bathroom so you can see for yourself.”
Then he picks up my clutch and passes it over so I can tuck it under my arm, and we start to head for the door. He opens it and pokes his head out. I laugh at how ridiculous he looks, like he’s on some sort of reconnaissance mission. A regular secret agent.
“The coast is clear,” he tells me, taking my hand and pulling me out after him. We close the door and walk out into the hall, and just like that, we’re two normal people attending the gala once again.
My cheeks go red, though, just knowing I look a fright. I see the door for the loos up ahead and practically bolt for it.
“I’ll be in there! Don’t bother waiting for me—I’ll probably be a while.”
“All right, I’ll go get us drinks.”
I wink then push through the door. It’s blessedly empty and cold, but I don’t bother looking at my reflection yet. It’ll only depress me. I do my business in the stall and rearrange my dress so it sits where it’s meant to. Then I walk out to the sink, take a deep breath, and lift my gaze.
Oof.
My lipstick is smeared round my mouth. I look like I belong in a striped circus tent, and the damage doesn’t end there. My hair is standing on end in a few places, from where Logan was gripping me to keep me where he wanted. He really did a number on me. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are a bit glassy.
Fragile. I look fragile.
I groan and grab a load of paper towels to carefully dab off my smeared lipstick, without ruining even more of my makeup. Then I toss them and start to finger-comb my hair. It’s sort of useless, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m still going at it when the door opens and Melody strolls in. She sees me and jumps in shock.
“I know you!”
I smile. “Oh, err…hello there. Yeah, I’m Candace.”
She narrows her eyes in thought as if trying to place me, and then she smiles. “Right! Candace. You were the waitress at that bar we went to the other night.”
“Right-o,” I say with a little shrug of my shoulders. “District. And you’re one of Logan’s friends.”
“Well, more than friends.” Then she sort of claps a hand over her mouth and rolls her eyes. “Forget I said that. God, being with someone in the public eye is so complicated.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, voice weak.
“It can be so tricky dealing with our public image. It’s one way behind closed doors”—she waggles her eyebrows suggestively—“and another way in the public. You have to play it cool all the time.”
I can feel the color start to drain from my face. I’m a pale ghost as she steps closer and takes a spot at the sink beside mine. She starts to fuss with her appearance, but there’s no need. She’s flawless.
“What are the odds I’d bump into you like this? Here of all places.” She laughs as our eyes meet in the mirror. “Are you involved with Feeding America?”
I shake my head quickly. “No, actually.”
“Oh, so you must have come as someone’s date? Who is it? I might know them. This town is smaller than you think,” she says, giving me a big smile.
And worse, the smile seems genuine.
And if she’s being genuine…
She’s still waiting for me to respond to her question. I blink and try to come up with something. It’s not like I can tell her I was waiting here for Logan, not after what she’s claimed, so I give her a real truth.
“Myself. I came by myself.”
“Oh? Good for you! This cause is so important to me, so I’m always happy to see a packed event. I bet we’ll raise a lot of money tonight.”
“Yeah…I hope so.”
“Did you manage to avoid the red carpet on your way in?” she asks with a little groan, as if red carpets are the bane of her existence.
“Just about. I came early.”
She sets her clutch on the counter and opens it so she can reach in for her mobile.
“I wish I had thought to do the same, but with Logan, there’s no way to avoid it. Let me look—I bet they’ve already started posting pictures.” Then she laughs at what she sees on her screen. “God, those photographers work fast!”
She turns the mobile so I can see what she’s looking at. It’s a photo on Twitter, an image of her standing