Page 44 of Reality With You (Arden Beach #1)

Before Lennon changed her mind and did something that would complicate things even more, she quickly unlocked the door and swung it open.

She caught the supervising producer mid-knock.

“Sorry. We turned them off so I could puke in private. Those shots got the better of me.” Carol Anne cast a suspicious glance at Dylan. “He was holding my hair back.”

“Right.” Carol Anne regarded them like a couple of lying teenagers caught behind the bleachers.

She looked out of place in the middle of the party, wearing her wrinkled black tee and headset.

“You have to keep them on when we’re filming.

It’s in your contract.” She moved to the side to let one of the young production assistants step forward.

Lennon rotated so they could reach the mic pack taped to her back. Their eyes briefly met before Dylan shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, a muscle cutting a sharp line through his jaw.

The cacophony of music and voices swelled around them as they returned to the party. Carol Anne had slithered back into the walls somewhere, but Lennon felt her eyes on them. It only took a second to clock a cameraman who must have followed them when they left the bathroom.

“I should probably find Avery,” Lennon said. She could at least try to be a halfway decent bridesmaid.

“Hey, Lennon,” Tana shouted over the music, popping up beside her. The smell of tequila spoiled the air. “Can we talk?”

Lennon glanced at Dylan. He’d gone somewhere distant, only half-present. Guilt pulled at her. Her fingers ached to reach out. They needed to talk— really talk—but they couldn’t here.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Dylan told her.

“OK.” Lennon hid her disappointment with a weak smile.

Dylan seemed to see through it—he always did—by how his eyes softened slightly. She saw the pain behind them.

She always did.

Dylan descended the few steps to the sunken living room, heading toward the doors that led to another patio.

“Yo—Dylan!”

One of the guys they ran into earlier—the one with ginger hair—raised a cup from a crescent-shaped sofa. Buzzcut and some others sat with them. A blonde lounged on a hip along the back of the couch.

Kelsey.

Dylan hesitated for a moment before joining them. He sat on the other end of the half-circle. Kelsey tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward as she said something to him with a smile.

Lennon’s blood iced.

“It’s so loud in here. Let’s find somewhere else to chat,” Tana said.

Marching down those steps and plopping herself beside Dylan was damn tempting, if only to ruin Kelsey’s game. But blowing off Tana would make it look like Lennon was threatened by her. Dylan could handle himself.

“Sure,” Lennon replied.

She followed Tana to the kitchen. It was a mess of scattered plates of half-eaten food, empty cups, and other party paraphernalia, but thankfully, no other partygoers.

The music receded to a distant, thumping bass.

Lennon welcomed the quiet and the soft glow of the under-cabinet lighting, though she clocked the cameras this time—a cameraman who had followed them and crouched in the unlit dining area, a surveillance camera under one of the cabinets, and another attached to the ceiling.

She pressed her back against the cool surface of the subzero fridge. Her heart thumped in her stomach.

“You looked like you were having fun dancing earlier.” Tana’s dark red lips curled into a smirk.

Lennon stiffened. She hadn’t even noticed Tana on the dance floor.

Straight, jet-black hair fell over her shoulders as the model leaned over the expansive island.

She braced her elbows on it and set her chin in her hands.

“I’ll bet all the guys were enjoying it, too. ”

Tana hadn’t spotted Dylan. Lennon released an inward sigh of relief.

“So, I wanted to ask you something, woman to woman. You said you and Dylan are friends,” Tana began, slurring a little. Lennon’s heart rate spiked, but she kept her expression even keeled. “Be real with me. Can he be trusted?”

That wasn’t the question she expected. “What do you mean?”

“Like, is he a good guy, or should a woman interested in him run in the opposite direction?”

Lennon wasn’t sure what Tana was getting at, but she didn’t like the feel of it. “I don’t—why are you asking me this?”

Tana sighed, biting the corner of her lip as she appeared to debate what to say. “So, obviously, Kelsey has a thing for Dylan, but I think she like, really, really likes him, and I think he feels the same way.”

Lennon fought back an eye roll. Not this again.

“I mean, why wouldn’t he? She’s a fucking catch,” Tana continued, oblivious.

“But she deserves the best, and I just don’t know about him.

Like, after what happened between the two of you and the whole thing with the accident—I’m a little worried, y’know?

I know he’s on this whole redemption thing, but is it genuine?

Has he really changed, or is my girl getting set up for a huge heartbreak? ”

Lennon sighed, absolutely sick of this charade. She dropped her head back against the fridge as she crossed her arms. “Honestly, Tana, you don’t need to worry about it because Dylan’s not interested.”

“How do you know?”

Lennon still felt the heat of Dylan’s gaze radiating on her skin. “Trust me, I just know.”

Tana narrowed her catlike eyes, drawing slow circles on the marble countertop with a long fingernail. “Well, let’s say hypothetically, he was. Do you think Dylan can be trusted?”

“He’s a good man,” Lennon said firmly. “I think people need to stop putting so much pressure on him.”

Tana sighed. “Kelsey does love a project.”

“Dylan’s not a project. He’s a person.”

Tana arched an eyebrow, studying Lennon for a beat. “You sure you don’t have feelings for him?”

The cameraman crept behind Tana. Lennon tightened her arms around her ribcage. “I’ll always care about him. We’ve known each other since we were kids,” she answered carefully. “But we’re just friends.” The lie chafed against her heart.

Tana smiled lazily. “I guess everyone deserves a second chance, huh?”

If only it were that simple.

Silence stretched between them for a few seconds before Tana abruptly rose. “Alright. Let’s get some more shots and dance our asses off. I’ll tell the DJ to queue up something good.”

“Actually, I’m going to look for Avery. Have you seen her?”

“Not since the fire pit. She got pretty upset over seeing Steph and wandered off somewhere. Bring her with you to the dance floor when you find her.”

They split off in opposite directions. Lennon purposely backtracked to the sunken living room as she searched for Avery. Different people now crowded on the crescent sofa—Dylan nowhere in sight. Or Kelsey. She checked the patio he’d initially been headed toward but recognized no one.

Where the hell did he go?

Lennon continued through the palatial manor, poking her head into various rooms. An art gallery, a formal dining room, another living room. How many fucking rooms did this place have?

As Lennon passed the library, she stopped short and did a double take. Avery sat slumped in a leather club chair as she received a lap dance from two half-naked gilded models.

Lennon almost didn’t recognize her at first. It was strange to see student president, lifestyle guru, always put-together, sweet-faced Avery getting a lap dance from a topless woman painted gold while a buff man in a thong rubbed her shoulders.

Lennon rested a hand on the doorframe, not wanting to, uh, intrude. “Hey, Avery—have you seen Dylan by chance?” She waited a moment. “Avery?”

The bride-to-be rolled her head up. “Who? Oh. No. Sorry,” Avery replied with a heavy tongue. Her eyes were half-mast, clearly drunk to oblivion.

Lennon’s stomach turned to stone at the cameraman’s smirk. His thin, dark hair was tied in a rat tail at the nape of his neck and a sweat stain permeated his black shirt in the middle of his back.

Lennon strode into the room. She reached past the gyrating model to clasp a gentle but firm hand around Avery’s arm hanging over the side of the chair. “I think it’s time to get you to bed.”

“Noooo,” Avery whined, but her eyes fell shut. Her head slumped back against the chair again. “I’m having fun. I never have any fun.”

For a moment, Lennon reconsidered. They weren’t close, so how did she know if this was what Avery would want? After all, it was her bachelorette party and her reality show, and Avery was an adult.

“Why don’t you join us?” the male model asked, amber curls framing his chiseled face. He let go of Avery and languidly stepped around the chair toward Lennon. She slapped his hand away as he reached for her.

“Don’t touch me.”

He gaped at her before shifting to disgust. “Bitch,” he murmured under his breath.

“Come on, Avery,” Lennon said, tugging her arm. Avery could be angry at her later. She wasn’t taking any chances that she was in a situation she’d regret once sober. “Let’s get you some water. If you still want some fun after you’ve sobered up a bit, I’m sure some will be waiting for you.”

The female model stopped dancing. She sent Lennon a small, apologetic smile as she moved out of her way.

As both models slinked off, Lennon pulled Avery to her feet. She was almost deadweight. Lennon threw Avery’s arm over her shoulder and wrapped her own around her waist, and they stumbled out of the room together.

Lennon glared back at the cameraman, who looked every bit like a teenage boy whose fun had been ruined. She shot him a bird. She didn’t care that he caught it on camera.

Since Lennon didn’t know which of the five thousand bedrooms was Avery’s, she brought her to hers and Tana’s.

Another cameraman tried to follow, but she slammed the door in his face.

Lennon lowered Avery on her bed, then went to the wet bar to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge.

By the time Lennon turned back around, Avery had slumped onto her side.