Fake It | ✔️

Twelve | 💋

Those caramel eyes. The straight forward face.

Shit.

I licked my lips. I made a "huff" sound and ran my hand through my hair. I glanced down to see her hands. Her fingers interwoven like a loose braid or as if she was praying. I recalled when we ice-skated. Those hands held my forearm up.

Her clothes smelled like clean cotton. Warm and simple.

"You're being straight to the point." I muttered.

"I have twenty-seven emails to answer. I might be called to arrive at an emergency scene anytime. I have to get to the point," she declared.

Sugar's work aura differed and yet revealed more on her character. She obtained the information she desired. Her confidence resided in her experiences and what she knew. I recalled her confidence in teaching me to ice-skate.

Is she afraid of anything?

I tilted my head for a moment.

Yes. When there was something out of her control. And something else ... what was it?

"If you don't speak, I'll assume that you have nothing to say. You came in to play because you were bored."

"I have the Release and Contract forms for the documentary," I stated.

"Oh well that's-"

"We'll need them signed. Also, we need you video taped giving us full permission for this project," I said, "That's what Mr. Dalton said - he's the CEO of Hazel Inc. - the company who is funding this documentary. The writers have outlined, demonstrated the risks and responsibilities, and the schedule. We're still working on a name."

I held out the printed and stapled documents.

Sugar frowned. Reluctantly, she took the papers. The new paper made a harsh noise as Sugar flipped to the next page. Her matted pink lips moved as she read the introduction. Words mumbled under her breath. Her face stoic focused on the legal form.

"The writers wrote the pilot already. It seems there will be four episodes. They will be super long. Almost two hours' worth unless the writers decide to change the narrative," I stated.

"How can they write a narrative when it's supposed to be real life? They can't predict the future." She placed her chin on her hand as her elbow was planted on the desk.

I nodded.

"Yes - well - since the first episode will be first impressions with the women and me. I've relayed our first date with the writers. Let me tell you, they were thrilled and surprised by-"

"Wait," Sugar stopped me, "You told them?"

"Believe me. I didn't want to. The writers told me the first episode is crucial. The audience needs to 'get to know the characters' or people. They mentioned I'll meet all three women – I corrected them to say 'I know Sugar already,' then the story kind of took off from there."

Sugar flipped frantically towards the back of the stapled packet.

Her fingers gripped tightly on the paper. "It says here. Sugar pours hot chocolate on August's head."

She looked up at me.

I frowned. Her look didn't match the proud or joyful expression that I imagined she would have.

Shouldn't she be happy? Didn't she enjoy doing that the first time? After all, she's not getting hot chocolate poured on her.

"This is idiotic," she said, throwing the documents down on the desk. "This is fake, August. This is superficial. No one will believe this dramatized introduction."