Lauren Prescott was different.
She didn’t care who Carly was. She paid no attention to Carly’s status in Hollywood, and she certainly wasn’t easily impressed. Not only that, but Carly couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was she wanted from Lauren. Yes, she was attracted to her and daydreamed about kissing her languidly in a variety of settings. But she also wanted to talk to her nonstop, make her laugh, figure out what made her tick, make her a plate of fluffy pancakes, and then kiss her face off some more. What did that mean, exactly? She didn’t recognize herself lately. This was new territory for Carly, but she was up to the task of wooing.
“I can woo,” she said out loud, inside the apartment that, after weeks, was beginning to feel like hers. Over the next half hour, she tried on seven different outfits, none of which felt worthy of her date that night with Lauren. Failures, all of them. Unsure what to do and close to downshifting entirely, she lay on her back in the middle of her bedroom and called the one person who could help.
“Hey, Car, what’s up?”
She closed her eyes and smiled at Fallon’s voice. They talked every other day or so, but she’d yet to confide in Fallon about Lauren and her swirling, confusing feelings. “I have a date and need help because I’m a train wreck and look stupid in everything I try on. Do you have time? It’s okay if you don’t. I can just cry in a corner and hope someone finds me later.”
She heard Fallon chuckle. “Your timing is perfect. Just left the office at Sony. There was a birthday, so cake and spiked punch abounded.”
Carly laughed. “Your favorite combo.”
“So, you’re a stupid train wreck. Who is this date with?”
“My stage manager, who is now my costar.”
“Wait, the super strict one who lectures you?”
“That’s the one. She’s in the show now, which is a whole separate story. Her name is Lauren and she has semi-long dark hair and amazing green eyes with these tiny flecks of gold, and she sometimes keeps me up at night thinking about her. That’s a lie. Lots of times. Is this normal? It doesn’t feel normal.”
“Wow, Carly-bear. Do you have a crush? A real one?”
“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word, and throwing her arm above her head. She knew she was bringing the drama, but just hearing Fallon’s voice allowed her to let all her feelings come tumbling out. Fallon was her safe place to fall. “She makes me smile, and she gets me hot.”
“Those are two important things.”
“She’s also smart, and kind, and flirts in these subtle little ways. There’s more, but I should leave in twenty. She doesn’t like it when I’m late.”
A long pause on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry. You’re showing up places on time? I thought you said this was Carly earlier, but clearly I misheard.”
Carly sat up and spoke animatedly to her wall, pointing at it. “Very funny. But yes, she’s had that kind of effect on me. It’s wild, and I like it.”
“Whoa.”
“Whoa is exactly it. Double whoa. Hold the pickle whoa. Thank you for getting that. So I need advice.” She scanned the room, wondering if she should maybe jot a Lauren to-do list. This was all so beyond her experience level.
“Hit me,” Fallon said. “I’m ready.”
“First of all, what do I wear?”
“Well, do you still have a tan?”
She checked out her arms. “It’s fading, but yes.”
“Anything to accentuate it. Light colors. Whites, beiges, pastels.”
A burst of energy hit. She had an idea. “A yellow chiffon blouse with a slight ruffle in the cuff, light wash jeans, and my beige block heels?”
“Now we’re talking. Where are you two going?”
“To dinner. I plan to pay, and open doors, and be genuine and charming.”
Fallon chuckled. “You’re always charming. You don’t even have to try at that part. People love you, Car. That’s never been your problem.”
“What is my problem? I should probably know.”
“Really? Right now?” Carly heard a car door open and close. Sounds of Taylor Swift drifted on to the call. “I’m not sure this is the best time to go into—”
“Yes, really. Put me on speaker and let me drive home with you while you tell me all the things I need to work on. What’s my biggest problem? I can take it.”
She heard Fallon sigh. “Fine. It’s consideration. You tend to think about the effect your actions will have on other people only after the fact.”
“Go on.” Carly tapped one nail against her top lip nervously as she listened.
“You take what you want first and let the chips fall where they may. Oftentimes, it’s other people picking up those chips after you.”
Carly sobered. Lately, she’d been trying hard to listen in the midst of harder conversations and truly internalize what she heard coming her way. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard the sentiment Fallon described. It wasn’t even the first time from Fallon. Yet she was at a point in her life when she truly wanted to do better, behave better, and think of others first. Not because her career was in trouble, but because something in her was changing. She wanted to be a better person.
She nodded. “You’re right. I’m going to work on that. And Fallon?”
“Yep.”
“If I’ve ever taken advantage of our friendship, your kindness, and I have a feeling I have…Well, I’m really sorry.”
The line went quiet for a moment. “I appreciate you saying so. You’re a good egg, Carly. I’ve always known that part.”
Carly smiled at the wall. “Not as good as you, but I’m going to work harder. Thanks for the chat.”
“Anytime. Call me tomorrow with all the noteworthy details, and don’t you dare leave out the sexy parts.”
“Try and stop me.”
Carly clicked off the call and felt her heart rate slow. Fallon had pointed her in the right direction, helped her come up with the perfect outfit, and had been a friend to her when she needed it. She smiled and took a deep breath. Tonight felt important, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t also be fun. She’d been looking forward to their date since the very moment Lauren had asked her out.
Now all she had to do was put on her chosen outfit and go and pick up her date.
Chapter Eight
Rocky looked up at Lauren and snuffled as she took a final glimpse at herself in the mirror, happy with her look. She’d left her hair down, liking the way it fell across her forehead today. Rocky snuffled some more and lifted his feet. She grinned. He was a big time snuffler, always using the sound to express his emotions, which were varied and complex. “You got something to say?” she asked. “I put your dinner down already.” She returned her focus to the mirror and ran a finger along her bottom lip to apply a little more gloss. Snuffling. “You don’t want your dinner?” She glanced down at him.
He picked up his feet, set them down, and snuffled some more in response. Aha. The shuffle-snuffle combo. He likely knew she was going somewhere and demanded to know who with. Rocky IV had always been her protector, defender, and right-hand man. She scooped up the pudgy little guy, carried him with her to the kitchen, and plopped him in front of his full dish to see if he’d get back to regularly scheduled programming. He glanced up at her, snuffled, but obliged, shaking his little curlicue of a tail as he ate.