Page 86 of Next Time We'll Fall

“Fair point,” I say, laughing.

“Plus, I’m sure you heard about my scandal.” He makes a face.

“Kind of. I mean, only yesterday though, from one of the other girls. I’m sorry I hope you don’t think I was gossiping.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. It wasn’t me with the prostitutes. It was a buddy of mine. You might have heard of him, though I’m not going to tell you his name just in case you’re a paparazzo.”

“I’m not a paparazzo.”

“I didn’t think you were. You’re too pretty to be a paparazzo.”

“Thank you.”

He chuckles. “You’re different, aren’t you?”

“Different as in from another planet, or different as in I’m not an influencer?”

“Different as in you’re easy to talk to and you’re not asking me how much money I made on my last picture or how much I spent on my last house or any of those things.”

He looks around at the girls waiting behind us, who are looking at me with envy.

“Plus, you’re dressed differently.”

I look down at my dress and shrug. “I figured I wouldn’t draw too much attention to myself.”

“It’s funny you say that.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because the fact that you dressed like that actually made me notice you more.”

“Oh?” I stare at him with wide eyes.

Is August Pitt flirting with me? Like, for real? There is no way, right? He would never be interested in someone like me over these big, buxom ladies.

“So, what made you be a part of this show?”

“Honestly, the paycheck. I have a bookstore I’m trying to save, and, you know, I figured maybe I’d make some money and maybe I’d also fall in love.”

He bursts out laughing. “And you’re honest. I knew you were different.”

“I hope honesty doesn’t make me unique.”

“Trust me, in this world,” he says, rolling his eyes, “it does.”

I start laughing then because I can’t stop myself.

He’s handsome, and he’s charming, and his smile is infectious. If I didn’t have a crush on Rafe and if I wasn’t so desperately in love with him, I might actually think about trying to get to know August for real.

“So, Juniper,” he says, “where are you from?”

“I’m actually from Coconut Beach.”

“No way.” He looks me up and down. “I would have thought you were from—I don’t know—Iowa or something. You look like a Midwest girl.”

“I do?” I tilt my head to the side. “You look more like a Midwest man than I look like a Midwest girl.”

“I’m from Guam, but I grew up in Oklahoma.” He winks at me. “Can’t get any more Midwest than that.”