Page 71 of Director's Cut

“Was it at least an Uber Black?” Charlie asks.

“X,” I reply.

“Cheapskate!”

“It wasn’t necessary.” Embarrassment has created a gunk that’s blocking my arteries, and my blood has to slog through it.

“Also that’s fucking wrong,” Romy says. “How can you not say the time you coated Luna’s lips in ghost pepper sauce during the hot wing thing?”

“It was Trinidad scorpion sauce!” Luna says, surprisingly indignant.

Charlie keeps going. “Oh my god, Luna, do you know what happened to Val after that?”

That piece of shit—

“They don’t need to know that!” I interject.

“Have you ever seen a person after they survive a rare river parasite? When their intestines are just decimated,” Charlie continues.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Luna says, genuinely apologetic.

“Get out of the fucking car, Charlie!” I snap.

But Maeve’s laughing right along with Romy and Charlie. She makes eye contact with me, and I see joy in her eyes, not jealousy. “Why would you do that?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

But I have to admit, as she gives my hand a squeeze, I do feel better that she brought it up. It’s good to know she’s not the jealous type. I feel a relief like no other. It affects the rest of the car ride, bringing about a warm, joking mood. We all exchange Hollywood stories and supernatural theories, and Charlie and I give the others our best Oscars survival tips.

By the time we arrive on the red carpet, I almost can’t hear the roar of cameras, reporters, and whatever the hell else is going on outside. I start my deep breathing as Luna, Romy, and Charlie exit the car. Charlie gives me a particularly long smile and a thumbs-up.

Then it’s just Maeve and me.

Maeve, who I know is completely out of her element but is doing this for me. Maeve, who, despite the fact that she’s visibly shaking, takes my hand and squeezes it.

“Ready, babe?” I ask.

Maeve nods. Still, she’s gone from shaking to rapid breathing. Not so ready.

“Focus on my breathing,” I say, keeping my voice calm, gentle. “Try to copy what I’m doing.” I take her hand and put it over my chest.

And as her breathing gradually slows to match mine, all I can do is stare at her in awe.

Maeve put both me and my ex at ease for my sake. Maeve ran Queer and Ally Student Assembly and thinks my being a paranormal conspiracy theorist is the most entertaining thing she didn’t know about me. Maeve looks absolutely incredible in a dress that matches mine. Maeve’s ready to go out there and be paraded around for me despite how terrifying this clearly is for her. She’s ready to tell the world that she’s mine, that I’m hers. In public. In public-public. After everything she’s done for me, I’m going to be there for her. For everything.

I take one last deep breath, my heart hammering. “I love you.”

She’s in shock for a second. One, two, my stomach dropping, three—

Then she smiles. Full grin, cheeks pink, I’ve-never-seen-her-this-elated smile. “I love you too.”

Hearing those four words gives me more courage than any alcohol, drug, or the hundreds of strangers outside cheering could do. I know there’s pandemonium around us. I do. I avoid the bumps in the red carpet and blink back the dots in my vision after each camera flash. But it doesn’t matter. For the first time ever, when I step onto this red carpet, I can’t see the crowds and chaos around me. It’s just Maeve, who follows my lead as I gently hold her hand. We arrived late enough that the reporters are distracted by others and aren’t dogpiling trying to get to me. We move to the fork where celebrities separate from their normie guests for photos. I let go of Maeve’s hand.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with,” I say.

She takes my hand back. “Let’s go.”

I mean, hell, she looks gorgeous enough that people are gonna ask if she’s from some movie they don’t remember.