A Girl of Lights and Lies
by lovelunarchron
"Miss Hayle! Miss Hayle! Oh please, Miss Hayle, over here!"
I turn my head, bat my eyes. A flirtatious giggle that's not of my own making escapes my lips right before the cameras flash. The paparazzi eats it up like those little sour apple lollipops I binge eat when my trainer's not breathing down my neck.
The thought of them makes me drool. It's been way too long since I've had any candy, or anything besides those green juices that are supposed to make my hips wilt, along with my sanity.
Stars, what I wouldn't give for a lollipop right now.
My perfect pose is interrupted when soft fingers skirt their way down my elbow until they bury themselves in the crook. This makes me smile even more and bend to the left so the paparazzi can get a better picture of us together. We'll definitely make the first page of all the major news outlets tomorrow morning. In a matter of minutes we'll be on all the social media feeds.
Winter Hayle engaged to co-star and long-rumored boyfriend, Aimery Park.
Our fans will have a field day.
"A kiss for the cameras! Let's see that love!" one of the reporters shouts.
Of course we're going to oblige.
But I like to do things a little unconventionally—it's good to keep them on their toes. So when Aimery leans in to kiss me, I raise the hand with my new rock in front of my lips a little naughtily. His eyebrows raise and I let out my infamous giggle again. He buys it and makes a show of how impish I am to ignore his advances.
I wonder how much he's faking too.
After all, it's a stunt from our agents. Why not stir up buzz around the Moon Kingdom sequel with the hottest engagement Hollywood has seen in years?
You always get rewarded for pretending in this job.
"You're acting rather coy today," he whispers in my ear. The strategic pull of one of my ebony ringlets is taken right out of one of the scenes we're filming and I know the audience is going to ooh and aah at his next move.
They always like when his lips graze just below my ear.
He knows they want to see it.
I know he wants them to see it.
So he wraps the ringlet around his finger once, twice. Executes the scene perfectly. Then slides his other hand around my waist. Shows them all he's mine.
But really it's me that's the possession.
Click, click, click.
Now I'm hungry and blind.
The dizziness is already setting in, like it always does after a long session with the paparazzi. I sink into Aimery's hold on me a little more than usual. He's not my choice of support but his physicality is enough to keep me upright and get me through this.
Besides, it'll make those fangirls swoon. They write stories about the two of us—how we fight, kiss, touch, even sleep. We go on honeymoons together in a hundred different ways, laugh at silly jokes, hurt each other over and over. Sometimes we die. Usually it gets pretty steamy.
Just like the first Moon Kingdom movie.
"Time to wrap it up," says another voice. It's a voice I know, one that's always behind me, only making itself known when absolutely necessary. Insignificant, it's meant to be heard by no one else.
The voice of my bodyguard.
The paparazzi boos but I wink at them and promise them more, now gripping Aimery without even trying to hide my weak legs. They'll think it's all for him. I'm so in love, after all, aren't I?
"Miss Hayle, Mr. Park," says the voice, and it propels me to retreat from the crowds.
Aimery has let go of me but his hand is steady on my back—at least, it's supposed to be steady. His grip is firm but I think he's beginning to confuse the boundaries of anatomy because it's lower than I like and—
I pretend to gasp at his presumption and he chortles beside me, lifting his hand again just above the dip at my waist. I would make a bigger show of it but I know the voice is there, behind me. Seeing.
It's all for show but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to see.
He's now in front of me, holding the door open to the limo and I glide in like a swan over water. Aimery leaves then to take his own limo, though this development disappoints the crowds.
"We'll only be apart a few hours," I say. I must have winked well enough to receive an Oscar because this sends the crowd into another frenzy, but the door shuts before I can give it another thought.
The ride home is quiet.
No, silent.
I'm left alone with my treacherous thoughts about all the made-up things that grasp for purchase in my mind and threaten to overwhelm me. I file away the fact that I'm engaged under Crazy Things That Must Never Become Real.
At least not with Aimery.
The limo stops. The door opens. "Miss Hayle," says the voice again—clipped, professional, courteous.
We're no longer in public so I dare to roll my eyes. My bodyguard lifts just a fraction of an eyebrow in response. His face is clipped, professional, courteous too. He walks behind me like always, a few feet away—just enough to protect me if I need it.
I've only really needed it two times.
He's only silent until we reach my private quarters. Then the voice—the one he always has to use around everyone else—changes to his real one.
"Winter…"
My name on his lips radiates beams of sunlight and fresh dew in the morning and it pulls away the clouds in my mental storage cabinet of lies. It reminds me of what's real because it's him.
"Jacin," I say, and that's all it takes to collapse into his arms. I'm still dizzy but this time it's with want, with need, for the real him and the real me.
His hands are calloused instead of soft and the feel of his fingertips against my cheeks wakes something up in my stomach. I'm still hungry but his kisses are sweeter than all the sour apple lollipops I've ever tasted and suddenly my hunger is only for him.
My bodyguard. Who gets paid to pretend just like me.
No one knows that he's a better actor than me, though—that he should have all the awards and red carpets and flashing lights.
So the fangirls can have their tales of the dashing Aimery Park and the flirtatious Winter Hayle.
As for me and Jacin?
We'll write our own stories tonight.