Not If I Date You First

Chapter 11

Chrissy's expression clears, and she nods. "It does seem strange that he's posing for pictures with you. What's that about?"

"I have no idea, but I need to figure it out." A strand of damp hair falls into my face, and I push it behind my ear.

"That's exactly why I wanted to get into this business," Chrissy says. "To uncover all these celebrities' dirty secrets and reveal them to the people who worship them like they're freaking gods." Her expression turns serious. "My little sister was hospitalized last year for an eating disorder. She said she wanted to be as thin as the movie stars she saw in magazines. I'm going to show everyone what these people really are. They're dangerous."

"That's awful. I'm so sorry." My heart breaks for Chrissy and what her family must have gone through.

I know celebrities and the media set an impossible and dangerous beauty standard. But it's also a vicious cycle because consumers then reinforce that standard when we buy magazines or click links with headlines that disparage someone's weight and appearance. Which in turn, makes celebrities feel pressured to try and maintain such unhealthy weights.

I also know that by being a photographer, I'll be contributing to the problem. It's such a deeply-ingrained issue in our society that I don't know what I can do to stop it. But looking at the pain etched across Chrissy's face, I know I want to try.

"We've got to tell everybody the truth about them," Chrissy says.

"Right." I nod, even though that's never been my motivation before. I wanted to show the world the sparkly lives of the stars and let them experience a little of that magic through my pictures. Chrissy has a point. But I've also felt conflicted, even guilty, since my meeting with Agnes.

If Liam is hiding something nefarious or problematic, then isn't it my responsibility to help reveal that, so he can be held accountable? Or is it unethical for me to intentionally violate his privacy? My mind swims with the complexity of these issues, but before I can begin to sort out my feelings, someone in the sea of bodies shouts, "It's them!"

It's like they dropped a boulder in a wading pool. Everyone begins screaming as waves of pandemonium ripple outward, catching us in their wake. The crowd rushes forward. It's all I can do to stay on my feet. I brace my legs and hold on.

"Faye! Ariani! Over here!" the man standing next to me yells so loudly my ear rings. I lean forward, trying to get a shot off as Faye Donovan and Ariani Shahzad make their way down the line of fans and photographers, stopping to pose for selfies and sign autographs. Exhilaration washes over me like dust falling from a shooting star.

"Liam!" The guy beside me hollers, bellowing in my ear again. I flinch. Seriously? I wonder if all photogs are this rude or if it's just the ones here tonight.

Liam's standing just past Ariani and Faye talking with a little girl, who looks to be about seven. He's stooped down, smiling at her, lips quirked in this charmingly lopsided grin. He signs a large, rectangular piece of paper the girl probably tore out of a coloring book. There's no trace of the arrogant, patronizing jerk I've had the displeasure of meeting. If I didn't know better, I might mistake him for an actual human being. I take the shot.

Something bashes against my lens, and my Nikon smacks into my nose. My eyes flood, and pain throbs through my head. A body slams into me from behind, and I stumble, almost losing my footing.

Chrissy's hand wraps around my arm, steadying me. "Are you okay?"

I nod. Tears stream down my smarting face as I whirl around. Hairy-Arms is practically on top of me, his long lens positioned in the spot my head was only seconds ago. That must be what hit me. Sweat stains bloom across his shirt, and he smells like he showered in drugstore cologne before leaving the house. He's zeroed in on Ariani and Faye and doesn't spare me a glance, let alone apologize.