Page 105 of Prime Time Romance

She holds up her hand. “Water under the bridge. We’re good now, okay?”

I nod.

“I haven’t seen your man around today. I thought he’d be by.”

My heart thumps heavily in my chest. “He had to leave town for a bit.”

“Spencer left?”

My mouth drops open as I realize my fuck-up. “I meant Josh. I mean Fletch. I thought you were asking…”

She knocks her shoulder into mine. “I think he’s good for you. And I’m glad you’re finally admitting it.”

I swallow away the lump that’s suddenly formed in the back of my throat. “Shall we get dressed?”

Luce rolls to her feet.

I unzip the bag with Poppy’s dress. It’s even more beautiful in the late afternoon light. I twist the hanger, letting the crystals catch the sun. When I hear a gasp, I think it’s Luce looking at it in awe until I turn and see her face.

“What’s wrong?”

She holds up the red material of her dress in her hands.

It takes a moment for me to see what she’s looking at. What I thought was a slit in her sequined dress is actually a sizable rip.

“Oh my gosh. What happened?”

She sinks down onto her knees, the dress still cradled in her hands. “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I should have known better.”

“Should have known what?” I ask, still confused. “What happened to the dress?”

When she looks up, her eyes are glossy. “What do you think? This place never changes. It’s like living the same Groundhog Day over and over and over again. I should have been used to it by now, but no matter how often it happens, it still hurts.”

I begin to piece together what has happened. “No,” I tell her. “We can fix this. Let me go downstairs and talk to Poppy. Maybe someone brought a backup.”

Luce holds up the dress, making the rip even more apparent. “Don’t waste your breath…. Let’s take this as a sign from the universe that I’m not meant for that stage….”

“You are.” I place my hand over hers and squeeze. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll figure something out, I promise.”

I find Poppy backstage, yelling at one of the crew members about the awkward hanging angle of the giant sparkling lobster meant to be the backdrop for the show. “Hey,” I call to her. “We have a bit of a problem.”

As Poppy turns, the crew member uses the moment to scurry away.

“What?” she barks, holding up her hands.

“Luce’s dress is ripped—”

“Yes, I know that—” Poppy interrupts.

“What do you mean, you know? How?”

Poppy grabs my arm, pulling me into one of the wings.

“Come on, Sloan.” She covers the mic of her headset with her hand. “She’s your biggest competition. If she makes it to the evening round, you’re screwed. I was helping you.”

My stomach drops.

“You ruined Luce’s dress on purpose? Poppy, that’s terrible.”