Scene 36

"Kameryn, the world has been waiting on the edge of its seat for the release of Sand Seekers . I think we'd be hard-pressed to find a single corner of the globe not talking about this movie. How does it feel, knowing the first premiere is less than a week away?"

Dillon tuned out the anchor's chattering commentary, instead watching Kam's easy confidence and relaxed posture, her legs crossed and smile genuine as she continued to field questions about the upcoming film. She looked very different sitting there on the set of Good Morning America than she had months earlier, during the first press appearances Dillon had watched from lonely hotel rooms. No longer did Kam fidget in front of the camera, or force a laugh to hide her unease.

At this point, she'd certainly had enough practice. This morning's interview marked the twenty-first TV appearance she'd made in the last two weeks alone. Seventeen cities across three countries, with more than a dozen stops scheduled over the next four days. All paving the way to the Hollywood premiere.

"I'm so sick of smiling," Kam lamented to Dillon when she'd called her the night before.

One wouldn't know it, looking at her now. She laughed and joked with the talk show host, answering questions in turn.

What was one word she'd use to describe filming in Greenland?

Frostbite.

How did it feel to portray a character who had been an inspiration in literature to millions, knowing her face would forever be connected to the role?

An honor—and a daily panic.

Had she seen herself in the eighteen-story-high ad in Times Square outside the studio?

Well, yes. It had been hard to miss.

The anchor shared in her embarrassed laugh.

The interview went on and Dillon's mind wandered as she stared at Kam's image on her mobile. She tried to decipher all the ways she looked different since they'd last seen one another five months earlier. Her hair was shorter. Her makeup heavier. Her eyelashes fuller than they'd been before.

There were moments when Dillon hardly recognized her, when she seemed like a stranger on the screen. And then would come flashes of the Kam she knew. The person hidden beneath the glamorous persona of the rising movie star. She could find her in the way her heel caught on the hem of her dress when she went to uncross her legs. The smile she hid behind each time the host asked her a question she found mundane. The graciousness beneath her aplomb. The humility in her habit of deflecting individual praise to that of the production as a whole.

"This is your first major film, am I right, Kameryn?" the anchor asked, straightening her horn-rimmed glasses. She didn't wait for a response. "Can you tell me—what has been the most difficult part of taking on this role?"

Kam didn't hesitate. "Being away from the people I love."

Dillon flipped the volume off as the anchor asked Kam about her boyfriend—how he felt about Sand Seekers and if he'd be accompanying her to the premieres. Dillon didn't care about the answers. She knew Kam had been talking to her.

Two days before her race in Montreal, Kam called her in tears. She'd told her about Elliott's phone call—about the reporter from The Sun who had threatened to run the piece linking Kam's name with hers.

A small part of her had wanted to tell Kam to let the bastard run it, allowing the chips to fall where they may. But she couldn't deny the unfettering relief she'd felt when Kam told her she'd already called Carter, coming clean with him about everything, and asking if he'd be willing to play a different part.

"It's only temporary," she told Dillon, her voice still tight from crying. "A few well-timed photos. Maybe a public appearance or two. I promise, it's not real."

Real hadn't been any part of Dillon's concern. She never questioned Kam's heart. She simply hated her own cowardice—that because of her, she'd now forced all three of them to live a lie in order to preserve the comfort of her privacy.

"He doesn't mind," Kam assured her when she asked how Carter felt. "He told me to thank you—because if you'd not come along, he'd never have believed the old ‘it's not you, it's me,' was true."

And so the wanker of a reporter had been paid off, Dillon's name had slipped back to oblivion, Hollywood's newest star was caught on camera holding hands with a boy who turned out to be her high school sweetheart, and life had slogged on as Dillon knew it.

Race after race, flight after flight, day after day of blisters, cramps, stiff muscles, aching joints, and the daily grind of training that never ended. As Kam jet-set across the globe with the cast of Sand Seekers , chained to their promotional tour, Dillon had closed out her season with another championship win.

It was her fourth world title, double the number of any other woman in triathlon history. She'd wanted it to come with some sense of gratification—to bring her the feeling of accomplishment she'd been lacking.

But the win had left her empty. The week before the race in Montreal, rumor had spread that Elyna Laurent had undergone rotator cuff surgery. The injury in Leeds had forced her to withdraw from the rest of the season.

So a win in Montreal, a second in Málaga, a fourth-place finish in Cagliari—despite a rolled ankle on the final lap of the run—had all meant nothing. Even her massive ninety second lead to win the final in Abu Dhabi, clenching the world title, hadn't felt rewarding.

For the first time in her career, the series had completely drained her. Even without pitting herself against the youth of Elyna Laurent, it had taken everything she had to finish the year.

"Why are you still racing, Dillon?" Seren asked when she stopped by her flat the evening Dillon returned from the Middle East. Her sister had unboxed the gaudy World Championship trophy Dillon had dropped in her hall, and placed it on the shelf alongside the others.

"Same reason you ride. It's what we do."

Whatever Seren had wanted to say, she chose not to. Instead, she took a moment to study the wall of medals in Dillon's living room, before turning back to face her. "Will a gold in Los Angeles be enough?"

"How could I know? I've never won one."

"Dillon, I'm serious—"

"If mam's got you here on another what are you going to do with the rest of your life quest, just stop while you're ahead," Dillon had snapped, booting a pair of running trainers across the room. "I don't ask her when she's going to quit the courtroom. I don't ask you when you'll retire épée. So you can both just climb off my back, will you? I've got enough of a load without carrying around dead weight."

But long after her sister had gone, Dillon stewed on the unfinished conversation.

Time was ticking. She'd turned twenty-nine in Canada. Her body felt like it was twice its age. The Summer Games were a year and a half away.

If she won—no, when she won—what was next? Kyle had suggested she turn her sights to the longer endurance races. Or throw her hat in the women's cycling ring. There was longevity there, he pointed out. Or, she could take up coaching. Help bring up the next great British athlete.

But it wasn't the same.

"What are you banging on about?" Sam had asked when Dillon turned up at her door after a late-night run. "It's not a decision you have to make right now. Train for tomorrow—focus on today." And so Dillon had taken her friend's advice and set the worries aside.

The buzzing of her mobile woke her. She'd dozed off on her sofa.

Kam's face lit up her screen.

"So, Christmas!" Kam blurted as soon as she answered.

"Weren't you just in the middle of an interview?" Dillon glanced at the time. She'd been asleep less than fifteen minutes.

"Just walking out the door. We've got a flight to Chicago. Anyhow—Christmas? Where do you want to spend it?"

Dillon hadn't gotten that far. Her only focus had been on knowing she would see Kam the day after her London premiere. Exactly a week away. The holiday hadn't yet made it to her radar.

"Wherever you are."

"I was wondering," Kam was momentarily muffled by the sound of horns and shouting voices, along with the threatening command of a man warning someone to stand back, followed by the slamming of a door. "Sorry," Kam was breathless, "there was a crowd in front of ABC . We just got to the car. Anyhow, I was wondering—is a sweater warm enough for Wales in winter, or would I need to pack my Greenland parka?"

"Wales?" Dillon was surprised. "What about the Hallwells?"

"I understand if that's your first choice," Kam quipped, "but I was thinking perhaps we could go somewhere that didn't involve steak tartare."

Dillon closed her eyes. For one hundred eighty-three days she'd been counting down the hours until they'd be together again. She'd never known she could miss someone so badly. Need someone so much.

"Do you like roast potatoes and parsnips?"

"Let's see," Kam hummed, "you mean more than Darlene's cuisses de grenouille? I could probably survive."

"What about making taffy?"

"I'm a first-class taste tester. I wouldn't want to put anyone to shame with my epic cooking skills."

"We couldn't have that," Dillon smiled, well aware Kam's kitchen prowess involved ordering take-out. "It's cold and wet and cloudy."

"Not to brag, but I survived Greenland."

"Fair enough. Then last question: how do you feel about going door-to-door in a song rhyming war wearing a horse skull on your head?"

"I—wait, what?"

Dillon laughed. "Come on, it's a Welsh tradition!" She didn't tell her the wassailing folk custom had mostly died out in the twentieth century. Better to let her stew on that image for a while.

"I…" Kam hesitated. "Sure, why not? I'm game."

"Are you really wanting to come to Wales?" Dillon was serious again. "You know you don't have to—I'll go wherever you are. Even if it's with the Hallwells."

"I want you to bring me home with you for Christmas. Do you think your mom would be okay with that?"

Not once in their three years together had Kelsey gone with Dillon to Wales. They'd spent holidays separate—Kelsey with her family, and Dillon with hers.

"She'll love you, Kam-Kameryn."

"It's settled, then." Kam paused. "There is one more thing, however."

The sudden nervousness in her voice worried Dillon.

"It's about London," Kam continued. "I'd like you there."

"Smashing coincidence," Dillon tried to tease, despite having an uncomfortable feeling she knew what direction this was heading. "I just so happen to live here."

"I want you to come to my premiere."

Quiet, Dillon stood from her sofa, crossing to look out the window at the London Eye. The city was lit for Christmas, brimming with the bokeh of holiday lights. She ran a fingertip along the frosted glass, tracing the river's outline.

"Is that a good idea?"

"Probably not. But do this for me—please? It's going to be one of the most monumental nights of my life. Sam could go with you. There would be nothing unusual about her attending the premiere. And you're her best friend—no one will think twice." Dillon could hear her swallow on the other end of the line. "Please, Dillon. I just want to know you're there."

Beads of condensation trickled down the windowpane, distorting the starbursts of light.

She sighed. She didn't know how to tell her no. Not after everything Kam had been willing to do for her. To protect her. She owed her this. And in truth—she wanted to be there. To support her. To see her shine. Even if it was just from afar.

"Is Carter coming?" She didn't know why she asked. She already knew. Kam had invited her mother to the opening premiere taking place in Hollywood, and thirty-six hours later, Carter would walk her down the red carpet in London, serving as her date.

"Yes." Kam was unapologetically matter of fact. "It's exactly why this works. All the attention will be on him." She softened. "And then he'll fly home the next morning and I'll go with you to Wales."

It was ridiculous, Dillon knew, to find herself battling a twinge of jealousy. All this had been done for her. If Kam had had her way, Dillon would have been the one beside her at the premiere.

She turned from the skyline. "Okay. But I'll have to talk to Sam."

"I already have. She said it was up to you." Thirty five hundred miles away, she could hear a smile creep into Kam's voice. "She did say something about canceling your friendship if you said no. Just so you're aware."

"Clever girl," Dillon smiled in return. "I see what you've done here. No way I'd ever be able to fend off the pair of you."

"Mates before dates—isn't that what you like to say?"

"Mates before dates didn't mean I wanted to take my mate on a date, just so we're clear."

"Good thing," Kam said archly, "because as soon as the night is over, I want you all to myself."

"I'll check my schedule. See if I can fit you in."

"Your schedule ," she mocked Dillon's pronunciation of the word, "better be clear until the end of January. That's not an option."

"I'll have my people call your people."

"Aren't you hilarious?" Kam scoffed. "But really—you'll come?"

"I'll come."

A man's voice sounded in the background. We'll be arriving at Teterboro Airport in nine minutes, Miss Kingsbury .

"Thanks, Mark," Kam said, and Dillon could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "I should probably go."

"Yeah."

"I really miss you."

Dillon dropped back onto her sofa. "Six more days."

"They can't go by fast enough."

Silence lingered, neither wanting to hang up.

"Okay," Kam finally resigned. "I'll text you when I land."

"I'll be counting the minutes."

"You'll be sleeping."

"All the better—I'll see you in my dreams."

In the middle of the night, long after Kam had texted her safe arrival in Chicago, Dillon lay awake scrolling her phone. It wasn't a habit of hers, but Sam had been flooding her with links on What to Wear to a Red Carpet Event and articles boasting what A-List celebrities would be attending the European launch ceremony.

It was impossible to escape the Sand Seekers headlines. Every ad, promo, and browser banner seemed to be covering the London premiere. Kam's face was everywhere. Smiling alongside Elliott Fleming and Grady Dunn outside a Hollywood theatre. Posing on the cover of Vogue. Staring into the lens on a snow-capped glacier dressed as Addison Riley. Laughing with Carter cheek-to-cheek in a photo she'd posted on Instagram as the pair watched fireworks on the 4 th of July.

The perfect couple , read one of the top comments with several thousand likes.

Gorgeous together , read another.

Aww, to have what they have . And on and on.

Dillon couldn't help but wonder how different the feed would be if it was her in the photos instead of Carter.

Only she didn't have to wonder. She knew exactly what they'd say. She'd seen it all with Kelsey.

Tell me its not trueeeeeee, Kelsey! Wasted on a dyke.

They just need a man to show them how to fill that void ha ha.

The wrath of God descend upon you and the man-vagina beside you.

Kelsey, I loved you as footballer, but this disgust me. It not natural, against laws of nature, what children will the two you make together?

Early in their relationship, Kelsey had learned to laugh at the hateful comments, with she and Dillon occasionally turning them into a drinking game. A sip for every time the word hell appeared. A chug whenever one of them was called "a man."

Of all the things Dillon was ashamed of in her life, being gay was not one of them. It was simply who she was.

She clicked out of the photo of Kam and Carter, and swiping to her text messages, found another link from Sam. Black Tie Duds for the Modern Queer.

She texted back.

David Beckham wore jeans to the Star Wars premiere.

There was an immediate reply.

Newsflash, Sinc: you're not David Beckham. I'll pick you up at ten. We're going shopping. Any more lip from you and I'll put you in heels .