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Chapter Eighteen

AURORA

Rise

Episode 573

Savannah, Georgia

M y nerves are genuinely getting to me today. I feel more nervous than I did my first time on TV. All eyes are going to be on me after the PPV. People will want to hear what I have to say and see what I do next. There’s no room for mistakes and that’s what makes me nervous. If this goes over poorly, I’m definitely not getting that official contract. My stomach is flipping and flopping. I’ve felt like puking since before I even got to the arena.

The sun is high in the sky. The air is thick and humid. I can taste the salt in the air from the nearby ocean as I walk through the parking lot, rolling my bag behind me. A quick flash of my badge to security and I’m backstage, looking around for Jules. I need her. Hopefully, she’s not too busy with Hext; I have no idea what’s going on there and it feels like something I should know but simultaneously something that’s none of my business .

Rounding the corner, I don’t bump into Jules. Theo grins down at me, wearing a crisp cerulean, blue button-up. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his impressive forearms that I’m one hundred percent not admiring. “I’ve been waiting for you, Roo.”

“Have I ever mentioned you give me serial killer vibes? You might want to get those in check.”

He chuckles, and I catch a flash of amusement in his brown eyes. “Funny. Come on. I want to show you something.”

“Circling back to ‘ serial killer ’ there,” I say, but despite that, I follow him. I can’t help that a part of me is curious. It’s not like he’s going to try anything backstage with our coworkers around.

Theo leads me to his locker room, which does give off a few red flags. Like an absolute dipshit, I follow him inside. The heavy door slams behind us. It’s a simple room like all backstage rooms generally are. The champ just gets his own. There’s a couch and a table along the wall with a few snacks. Theo’s bags are tossed against the wall, right next to the couch. Around the partition, I’m sure there’s a little bathroom set up, complete with a shower.

“I know tonight we’re only cutting a promo,” he starts as I stand there, crossing my arms over my chest. I nod for him to go on. “And I’m sure you either brought something to wear or you’re going to borrow something from Juliette again.”

How did he know I borrowed something from Jules in the first place? The outfit I brought from home is now in the back of my mind as I worry it won’t hold up to Jules’s sexy ass dress that the internet loved.

Maybe I stayed up way too late after the PPV, scanning social media sites for reactions. Sue me.

“Uh-huh?”

Theo walks over to one of his bags and unzips it, pulling out a bundle of fabric and holding it out to me. “I had my gear maker put this together for you. Hopefully, your measurements were right. I figured your other gear was…lacking. It was very amateur and babyface, and that’s not the image that we want to give off.”

Biting my tongue at the backhandedness of his comment, I snatch the clothing from him with a huff. The first thing I unravel is a top. It’s a very simple black cropped tank with some harness pieces that would fall over the tops of my breasts. There’s a built-in bra for extra support. Okay, not bad.

What surprises me is the second piece—a pair of parachute cargo pants. They’re black too with a neon pink trim. The total opposite of the shorts that I usually wear. When Theo said that he had gear made for me, I expected him to go heavy on the ‘sexy’ aspect. This comes off as functional and comfortable.

I’m speechless.

Theo leans against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. That annoying, almost charming shit-eating grin is on his face. “Just so you know, I’d accept a kiss as a thank you.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “It’s going to take a lot more than this to get me to kiss you, Theodore.”

“So…you’re saying there’s a chance?”

I wince. I did just imply that, huh? I have no intention of kissing him. I don’t hate myself that much. My self-esteem isn’t so low that I need his attention to make myself feel better. My reply comes off as a soft hum.

More surprisingly, Theo doesn’t push. Usually, when he sees an opening, he doesn’t stop trying. “What are you wearing tonight?” he asks, gesturing toward my bag as an unspoken instruction to show him.

“Oh.” Carefully, I lay my new gear on the couch, treating them as if they’re so fragile they’ll shatter the moment they touch. After unzipping my bag, I pull out a pair of black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder white top.

Theo’s nose wrinkles. “I don’t love it.”

“I’m sorry? ”

“I mean, it’s cute, sure. But we need to look more…cohesive. We can’t do that when the shirt I’m wearing clearly costs more than your entire outfit.”

Ah. There’s the Theo I know and despise. “Well, some of us aren’t fucking rich, Theo.”

He rakes his fingers back through his brown curls and sighs. “No, I know. That came off way too douche-y, even I can admit that. Here.” He reaches into his back pocket, grabs his wallet, and pulls out a sleek black credit card. He hands it to me, making a wave of confusion wash over me. My brows knit together and Theo shrugs. “Take this. There are boutiques downtown. Buy something that matches me. I don’t give a shit about the price. Take Juliette if you want. She can buy something too.”

I blink once. Twice. Fully letting myself process what I’m being told to do. Go buy clothes. He wants me to buy myself something to wear with his card. It was the last thing I expected, and I’m left with a dilemma. Do I do it and feel like I owe him something for the rest of forever? Or do I wear what I packed in the first place and feel inadequate the entire time?

A sigh escapes me as I reach out and gently pluck the piece of plastic from between his fingers.

Theo’s been on TV longer than me. He knows better.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I like the city, I don’t love the boutiques. So far, most of what I’ve found in Savannah has skewed toward the aesthetic of a southern housewife who wakes up every morning and makes lemonade and biscuits from scratch. Not a bad thing, just not what I’m going for.

Jules is driving her rental; I’m navigating. Every shop I’ve navigated the two of us to has been a total bust.

“All right. Last stop. If we’re late for hair and makeup, Shayna’s gonna get all bitchy. She has a tight schedule,” Jules says as she pulls into a parking spot along the cobblestone street.

Willow trees swoop down, shading the road and the surrounding shops. The store we’ve stopped in front of is red brick, in the middle of a strip between a coffeeshop and a naturalist shop. The dresses on the mannequins in the window don’t look promising. I have to find something. I don’t want to go back and deal with Theo bitching because he doesn’t like my outfit. I don’t want to see the look of displeasure in his eyes.

Wait.

Why the fuck do I care if Theo is displeased?

I shake the thought away as Jules pushes the door open. A golden bell chimes above us as we’re greeted by the scent of lavender. The girl behind the counter holds up a hand in greeting but continues to sip on her latte, not offering much assistance. It’s not a big store. There are scattered tables in the center filled with accessories, and racks of clothes line the walls.

“Let’s get digging.”

Jules and I start on opposite ends, working our way through the hangers to meet in the middle. She holds up a skater dress. It’s pink with hypnotic rainbow swirls all over it.

“Cute, but I don’t think that’s what Theo was thinking.”

She scoffs. “He just wants to see your tits again,” Jules mutters as she keeps flipping through the hangers, wrinkling her nose at a distasteful turquoise paisley abomination. “I don’t think he cares about you matching him.”

“It’s Theo. All he cares about are tits.”

She pops her lips in a way that she does before she says something that’s either enlightening or that she knows I’m not going to like. “You know, he actually doesn’t usually fuck around with coworkers. Sage is basically his textbook type. Big tits, blonde, sexy. He’s never even asked her out for a drink.”

I don’t know if that’s supposed to make me feel special or not. I hate that a part of me does feel a little something. I’m not delusional. I’m a conquest for Theo. He wants to ‘conquer’ me and then he’ll move on. He also recently ended things with his fiancée because he was cheating. Not exactly the signs of someone who wants something serious.

“He got out of a six-month engagement like two months ago,” I mutter as I push past a button-up pink dress with leopards all over it. Not leopard print. It has cartoon leopards with ridiculous looking faces all over it.

“Veronica was…” Jules trails off as she thinks over what she’s going to say. “I’ll preface this by saying I’m not justifying cheating. Cheating is wrong. Theo’s garbage for doing it. Veronica didn’t deserve that. But anyone who could see beyond her constant social media posting about how ‘happy’ they were could see that it was some fabricated trash.”

Immediately, I want to press for more. I want to know what Jules knows that I don’t, what she saw. Why am I so interested in Theo’s past?

Maybe there’s a tiny part of me that wants to see him as something other than a villain. I want to rewrite the narrative so he’s not some jackass who I’m forced to work with. I’m also a nosy coworker.

My chance to get more information is stolen when she gasps and grabs something off the rack. “ This .” She holds up a sleeveless black mini dress with rose gold fringe and pearls detailing it. There’s a sequined flower design off-center. “It’s perfect.”

I tilt my head as I look at it. While I’m not a fan of the rose gold, I do genuinely like the dress. “Do you think it’ll match Theo?”

“If it’s not up to his standards, he can fucking change.”

We buy the dress and stop at the bakery next door for coffee, on Theo’s card, and begin the short drive back to the arena.

On the touch screen in the car, Jules’s phone notifies her of a text from Hext. Discomfort crosses her face as she pops her lips and tells the car to read the message.

The automated voice announces, “From Hex: Since you’re MIA, I’m checking to see if you’re still flying out this weekend. Let me know. Be safe, whatever you’re up to.” A pause from the automated voice. “Would you like to respond?”

With a sigh, Jules says, “No.”

I was going to press for more about Veronica, trying to figure out what Jules knows about that situation. This, however, is much more interesting. I’m quiet as I try to think of how to ask. “You’re flying out to see Hext this weekend?” I try to word it as casually as possible.

From the way her hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles turning white, I can tell that Jules is already on edge. “I fly out to see him every week,” she mumbles. “It’s not like that. He has a ring and everything set up in his basement. We train together. I sleep in his guest room. His wife knows.”

Nothing about that sets me at ease about her situation. If anything, it sends up more red flags. “Jules…”

“Rory, I need you to trust me, alright? It’s not like that. I’m not like that. Nothing is happening between Hex and me. We just spend a lot of time together because he’s taken me under his wing. He wants to see my succeed.”

There’s something more there. I’m not blind to how they look at each other, how they follow each other around, but I can tell by the look on her face that even asking is distressing Jules, so I stop.

“I got you,” I say, deciding not to push further, even if I want to. “Take care of yourself, Jules.”

The last thing I want is for her to get a reputation because she’s sleeping with a married man. It could ruin her, and she deserves so much more than that.