Young Adulting - Christina Benjamin Page 0,14

ask me back as an intern again.

So really, Ohio State was my plan C. But I couldn’t tell them that. Not when they had their hearts set on me getting a college education and going to school somewhere safe, with Fallon by my side and the big bad world safely at bay…

As if on cue, an ambulance siren cut through the quiet room and my mom heard it.

I groaned quietly as it sent her off on another tangent of fear and worry about what might happen to me here, but I was also a little bit grateful.

I mean, I didn’t want my mom worrying about me, but I also really didn’t want to answer any more of my dad’s questions either.

“It’s fine, Mom,” I said. “It’s not coming for me.”

I looked over and saw Kendal rolling her eyes. When she saw me looking her way, she arched a brow and tapped a finger to an imaginary watch on her wrist.

My eyes flared wide. Crap, I was totally running out of time and I still had half a head of hair to curl, a dress to try on, and some food to cram down my throat.

“Guys, I’ll call you on Sunday, ‘kay?” I said. “My roommates and I were just about to grab dinner.”

Kendal gave a snort of amusement behind me at the little white lie. We were going to have dinner, so really it was more of a lie of omission. Still little. Not a big deal.

I heard my dad start in on another question about my timeline, but I bulldozed over him. “It was great hearing your voices. Give everyone at home my love. Talk to you soon!”

I hung up before they could respond.

I grimaced as I saw the three texts from Fallon that I’d missed thanks to my makeover. But now I had no time to waste. Colin was probably already on the way and I had to look perfect.

Home and all the problems that came with it could wait.

Right now…? I caught sight of my unfamiliar reflection again and grinned.

Right now I had a future to think about. And it was one where all of my dreams were finally starting to come true.

Chapter Four

Henry

“Yes, yes, it’s always a pleasure,” I said, shaking yet another hand as I played the dutiful son alongside my mother.

She beamed at me, her signature dimples showing. I’d inherited the very same dimples, ones that made my fans weep anytime I turned my mega-watt Hollywood smile their way.

That smile was out in full force tonight.

I could already tell I’d need a facial massage tomorrow from all the fake smiling I was doing. My cheeks ached as I turned my smile on the next guest who waltzed over to us at the afterparty. I felt like I was in a receiving line at some stuffy wedding.

I mean, my father deserved the praise. Gold City was spectacular—if you liked that sort of thing. I was all for big budget films, but I’m pretty sure most of the money went up in smoke during the endless explosion sequences throughout the film.

But I was happy to play my part, because tonight I was here for me.

With any luck, I’d very shortly be making my debut as a serious screenwriter at a party just like this. Tonight, I was laying the groundwork. I’d schmooze, kiss cheeks, clink champagne glasses, and plaster on this phony smile for as long as it took if it meant I got to make my movie the way I wanted to.

And why shouldn’t I?

I’d grown up pretending I enjoyed the spotlight. At least now I was doing it for a good cause.

A genuineness reached my smile as I thought about my script. It felt nice to have purpose. That was something that had been missing from my life for quite a while.

Speaking of things missing from my life…

Elena Rhodes sauntered over, stealing my smile and what was left of my heart.

“Elena, darling,” my mother cooed. “You were just fabulous in the film, wasn’t she, sweetheart?”

“Mmmhmm,” I murmured, begging the ache in my chest to subside. I hated that it still stung when I saw Elena. Just smelling her perfume again made my heart race even though I didn’t want it to. I wished I could just turn my emotions off.

When would I ever get over this girl?

Apparently not anytime soon if my mother had her way.

“I hope you won’t be a stranger, Elena. I miss seeing you at the dinner table,” my mother pressed.

“Is