Maddie squinted at the television. “She’s almost as skinny as you now, Bree.”
“Shut up.” Bree pretended she didn’t love to hear how thin she was.
“She won best supporting actress, right?”
“Yeah.”
Maddie marked the box on her makeshift ballot. She had made predictions earlier in the day while she’d run on the treadmill at the gym. This one she’d gotten wrong. Usually she was pretty good at guessing, but her heart really wasn’t in it this year. The only actor that permeated her thoughts was Micah Preston. And he wasn’t up for any awards.
“Oh my God, Christian looks h-o-t hot.”
“Where?” Maddie looked toward the screen.
“No, don’t look now. They just scanned over Micah. And he looks super hot too. Sorry.”
Too late. Maddie had already seen him. He did look super hot. As always. Dammit, she had hoped moving on wouldn’t be as hard as it was turning out to be. Stupid broken heart.
“At least he looks like he didn’t bring a date. He’s sitting in between two guys.”
This comforted Maddie. Unless the two guys were merely place holders. Award shows did that—had paid models available to take the seat of anyone who got up for any reason. It made the theater full. What if one of the guys sitting next to Micah was simply filling in for some hot blonde that had to pee? “Why do we have to watch America’s Choice Awards again, Bree?”
“Because if Beaumont wins Best Director, he’s going to immediately get a million phone calls and crap, and I have to be ready to handle them.”
Ah, yes, I’m watching this stupid award show because of Beaumont. It figures. “It seems like you should be there then.”
Bree didn’t detect the bitterness in Maddie’s voice. “It does seem that way. But no, I have to be here instead of dressed up all pretty surrounded by yummy, yummy hot stars.” Bree had her own bitterness. She squeezed Maddie’s leg. “I mean, I’d totally rather be here with you.”
“Of course you would.”
“Tell you what, when you get nominated for best director or screenwriter or cinematographer, I expect an invite.”
“Deal,” Maddie said. And finally, for the first time in her life, she saw being nominated for an award as a possibility. She actually had a shot now that she was being funded by Three Spot. Three Spot and Micah. How had Micah managed to make her biggest dreams a reality and then completely break her heart all in the same day?
Nope. Stop. Don’t think about it tonight. Focus on why you’re here. Oh, yeah, Beaumont. Maddie groaned. “I’m sorry, Bree, but I’m seriously hoping Beaumont loses.”
“Frankly, I am too.” If Beaumont won, the rest of Bree’s night would be spent working. “And must I remind you that you don’t have to be here?”
Maddie sighed. “I didn’t want to be alone. I’d end up not only watching Micah, but rewinding his segment over and over.” She had done that with a million YouTube videos already that week. “And then I’d cry.” She’d done that too. “A lot. I’m tired of crying.”
Bree wagged her finger at her friend. “No more crying. Your eyes are going to turn perma-puffy.”
“Are my eyes puffy right now?” Maddie thought she had put on enough foundation to hide that.
“Don’t think about it, baby, you’re gorgeous.” Bree grabbed two Oreos out of the package on the coffee table. “You don’t have this set to DVR, do you?”
Maddie took a cookie from Bree. “No.” She took a bite. “Maybe.”
“Madalyn!”
“I’ll only watch it if I’m desperate.” When she set the record option, she had told herself she was doing so in case she ended up leaving Bree’s early. She wouldn’t want to miss any of the big awards. Not that she couldn’t find any of that info on the internet.
Maddie leaned her head back on the armrest of the couch and swiveled toward the TV. The best supporting actor, announced while Maddie and Bree were talking, finished his acceptance speech and the voice-over came on. “Coming up after the break. Best Actor and Actress presented by last year’s winners, Natalia Lowen and Micah Preston.”
Bree gave Maddie a sideways glance. “You can close your eyes and plug your ears when he gets on-screen.”
“I can watch him.” She better be able to watch him. He was everywhere, after all. If she couldn’t make it through an award show, she’d never make it past the magazines in the checkout stand at the grocery store. Realizing that she knew exactly what he was doing at that moment, though. That made her heart extra lonely. “You better pass over the ice cream.” Yeah, good idea. Eat all the calories I burned off today at the gym.
Bree passed over the container of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy. “Be careful, it’s kind of melty.”
Maddie took the carton, a drop of chocolate oozing onto her white jersey dress. “Uh, no kidding.” She pulled the fabric to her mouth and licked the spot off her dress, leaving a brown smudge in its place. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”
Bree nodded toward the television. “He’s up.”
Dishing up a giant spoonful of ice cream, Maddie turned her attention to the screen as the announcer’s voice boomed. “Presenting our next awards, last year’s Best Actor and Best Actress, Micah Preston and Natalia Lowen.”
And there he was looking gorgeous, and more than a bit nervous, in his fitted black tux with a non-traditional black button-down shirt. Seeing him sent a stab to her chest while simultaneously causing her lower belly to clench. He looked so hot she knew that later, when she was alone, she’d fantasize about taking him out of those clothes. Probably while she was in the shower so she could employ her showerhead nozzle to erase her pent-up horniness.
Christ, would he ever stop having this effect on her?
Maddie fixed on Natalia, trying to pretend she was alone on-screen. “Micah, we’ve worked together so you know how I love gossip.”
With nervous charm—Maddie had never seen him so anxious—Micah gave his best smile. “This is true. You’re a gossip queen.”
Natalia fidgeted with her long, red gown. “Gossip princess, thank you. But anyway. I’ve heard various rumors about your relationship status. Can you clear that up for us right now? Are you or are you not available?”
Maddie stiffened. Was this seriously the only thing people cared about where Micah was concerned? She couldn’t bear to hear this again.