Page 83 of PR Stunt

Grayson feels it too. His knee presses just slightly more firmly into mine under the table. I reach for my glass, keeping my expression steady. Lauren doesn’t look at me anymore. She looks at Grayson. Her body angles toward him. Her smile turns deliberate.

“Nice to see you again, Grayson.”

He clears his throat. “You too, Lauren.”

Something shifts in her expression before she covers it. His fingers settle a little more firmly on my shoulder. He stays exactly where he is, posture relaxed. Still, I clock the change. In her. In him. In the space between them.

“Will you excuse me?” I say, setting down my napkin. Smiling, I say to Grayson, “Quick bathroom break.”

I grab my clutch from the table and slip away. I pass Juno, mid-laugh with Halden at a nearby table. Now that I think about it, those two would look incredible together. She catches my eye, and I send her a sly look. She grins back before turning back to Halden.

I push open the bathroom door, stepping into a softly lit space. A handful of people are inside, touching up their makeup or catching up in hushed tones. I slip into a stall, and by the time I step back out, the bathroom is empty. I peel off my opera gloves, setting them on the counter before moving to the sink to wash my hands.

The door swings open behind me. Lauren walks in, her heels clicking against the tile. I offer a polite smile, reaching for a paper towel as she steps up beside me, pulls out a compact, and dusts translucent powder along her t-zone.

She meets my gaze in the mirror. “You know, I was thinking earlier about Falling Fast.”

I toss the paper towel into the trash, slip my opera gloves back on, and reach for my clutch. My fingers pause slightly on the clasp before I smooth the reaction away.

“Yeah?” I say smoothly. “What about?”

She nods, angling her body slightly toward me. “It was a tough call, from what I heard.” She flicks a glance toward me, her smile a little too plastered. “You must’ve really impressed producers in those final meetings.”

I tuck my clutch under my arm, keeping my expression in place. “I’m not too sure what you’re getting at here.”

Lauren hums, applying a light dusting of powder to her nose. “Oh, come on, Charlie. You know how these things work.” She glances at me in the mirror, a cool, self-satisfied twist to her mouth in the reflection. “Some people grind for years, take meeting after meeting, and put in the work.” She snaps the compact shut, cutting the air sharply. “And some people just know the right person to…keep company with.”

The fuck? Did she just—? It takes me a second too long to comprehend the sheer ignorance, the absolute audacity. I’ve never, not once, been accused of that. The casual way she said it, too. Like it was just an unspoken truth. Anger climbs up my spine.

I meet her gaze in the mirror. “You’re right.” I tilt my head slightly. “Some people really do love to take shortcuts.”

She smiles, like I’ve just agreed with her. I smile back. Then I turn toward the door, but she throws one final hit before I can leave her in the dust.

“I mean, you’d know. Sleeping with Grayson and all.”

I freeze. Lauren’s words hang in the air, sharp and deliberate.

I turn back to her slowly, my face blank and my voice calm. “I don’t need to sleep with anyone to get ahead, Lauren. My work and my professionalism speak for themselves.” I tilt my head, letting the words land.

“You know, Lauren, it’s getting old.” My voice is light, even, but my eyes lock onto hers. “This whole mean-girl thing? The subtle digs, the little games? It won’t ever get you what you want.”

Her expression wavers—just barely, but I catch it. I take a small step forward, keeping my tone smooth. “Women in this world already have to fight hard enough to be taken seriously. Tearing each other down? That’s just cruel.”

Satisfied, I turn on my heel, ready to walk out with the last word.

“That’s cute,” Lauren says lightly just as my fingers brush the door handle. “But come on, Charlie. We both know how this goes.”

I turn to face her.

She tilts her head, voice dripping with condescension. “Grayson might be playing house with you now, but let’s be real. He has a type. And you?” She gives me a slow, deliberate once-over. “You’re just…not it.”

My grip tightens around my clutch.

Lauren’s smile turns cruel. “You really think you’re going to hold his attention? Long-term?” Her soft laugh is mocking. “Let’s be honest, Charlie. You’re vanilla.” She takes a step toward me. “You’re a boring fuck at best.”

The words land like a slap. She adjusts a strand of hair, eyes never leaving mine—watching me like she already knows how deep she’s sunk the knife.

“Grayson doesn’t do vanilla. He doesn’t do safe. He does women who keep him on his toes. Who don’t just look good on his arm but can actually give him something.”