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So, while Regina believes I’m making a mockery of the pageant and going against everything its decades of tradition stand for, I’ve also sparked interest in the dying industry, so she’s had to learn to play nice with me. Begrudgingly.
“Making our winner of the Miss Americana pageant, Ava Bordeaux!” The shaking of my hands held in Miss Utah’s isn’t part of the facade. Instead, it is unbearably real as reality crashes in: I’m about to go on the craziest adventure of my life. I’ll travel, explore, and meet so many amazing people, all because I took a chance on myself and wanted my best friends to succeed.
I try to remember what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to act, and how not to let imposter syndrome creep up. I didn’t plan for this. In my hyperfixation-studying of the pageant, I never thought I’d actually win this thing.
platform to encourage women and girls to bet on themselves, take a chance on themselves, and do one thing that scares them every day. Shoulders back, tits out, bitch. You were born for great things.
“In this world, in my world, you are not important. Sorry, princess, blondes with hot bodies wearing crowns celebrating their birthdays are a dime a dozen.” His eyes shift from the crowd to me for a split second, and I hate to admit his eyes are also incredibly attractive as they scan me. “Nothing special.”
“He’s being a self-righteous ass,” I say with a wave of my hand in his direction, now determined not to back down. “It’s my job to keep uninvited people out of this section. I’m simply doing my job,” he says, not an ounce of apology in his words. “Does doing your job include calling me a dime a dozen?” He doesn’t get a chance to answer because, when he opens his mouth, we’re interrupted.
By choice, I’ve been single, going on a never-ending series of one or two dates before deciding they weren’t for me. Sometimes, I’ll keep a guy around for a few weeks, but never for anything serious. Life is too short to spend giant chunks of time with anyone who doesn't hold your interest.
“Jaime, do you know him? He keeps looking this way.” She tips her chin towards the entrance of the VIP area, and when I turn to look, the only person there is the hulking man. I let out a loud laugh and shake my head. “Oh, god, no. He thought I was some crazy fan girl and absolutely hates me.” “Uh, he very much does not hate you,” she says, looking from me to Jaime. “He keeps looking over his shoulder, sneaking glimpses of you.” “I’m sure he’s just doing his job, ensuring you are safe.”
“Jaime doesn’t give anyone a second glance. He absolutely has a thing for you.” Wes steps back and gives me a generous once-over, a mischievous smile spreading on his lips. “Though anyone would happily give you a second glance. Or a third.”
Life is too short to date men who can’t hold your interest, but it’s definitely too short not to dance on a bar if you get the opportunity.
“See ya later, big guy,” I say as I teeter on my tall heels in front of him and pat his chest. “You know, you’d be a lot hotter if you were just a smidge.” I hold up my pointer finger and thumb, pinching them so there’s a tiny gap between my fingers. “Less grumpy.” “Noted,” he says, and even though he fights it, I can see it: the tiniest hint of a smile, the whisper of it on the edges of his lips. “Get home safe, princess.”
I use my mornings and near-meditative routine to clear my mind and prepare for whatever the day may bring. Unfortunately, much to my irritation, all my mind can think about is the tiny blonde out celebrating her birthday with a tiara as big as her entire face at AfterDark on Saturday.
It’s unexpected. It’s inconvenient. But it’s also the only thing I’ve been able to concentrate on since. Two whole days and a total stranger has taken up residence in my mind.
sashay away in that tight, short bubblegum pink dress until she was out of sight and the way I regretted not getting her number. If I can’t shake her from my mind by the end of the day, maybe I’ll figure out her social media and contact her.
But I’m hoping it won’t even be necessary since today I’ll get the details for my new assignment, which is the exact thing I need to distract me from the princess.
Nothing about my job changed except for I no longer reported to Hank. I’ve had the same assignment for nearly eight years, working as the head of security of Atlas Oaks, and I was still on that assignment while the company changed hands. The band is working on their next album and laying low for the most part, so I’m being reassigned to a new temporary position.
So I get to follow around some brat for three months, keep her in line while she smiles and pageant waves or else I lose my job. It’s a waste of my skills and my time.
I’ve always been a bit of an outcast, despite my unending desire to fit in. Raised with two brothers and a single dad, I spent a long time being too boyish, and then I was too girly when I grew into my curves and leaned into my love of pink, cream, lace, and bows. Too much, too gaudy, trying too hard.
“And as I told all of you many times since I signed on, I will continue to be myself no matter what. That means on stage, on social media, and on this tour. I’m not going to do anything to violate my contract or make the pageant look bad, but I also won’t be anything but myself, which is what everyone has come to expect from me.”
“You know, Regina, I think I’ll be okay. I’m very excited to show the world that a Miss Americana contestant doesn’t have to be picture-perfect, that they can be a normal, everyday, down-to-earth girl. I’m excited to represent a version of women not often exemplified in the Miss American pageant before.”
“Which is what I hope to show everyone on my tour: how anyone can be a Miss Americana so long as they are themselves. I’ll make sure I’m not acting in a way that would hurt the image of the Miss American pageant, but I’m not changing who I am. I won this title because of who I am, not who I pretend to be, and that won’t be changing any time soon.”
But then a tall, broad man walks in behind him, scanning the room like he’s looking for a threat, and my entire body goes cold. I know that man, that build. And when his eyes finish scanning the room, stopping when they land on me, I realize I know the face, too. The asshole bouncer from AfterDark.
Let’s backtrack: One, somehow, I’m suddenly a nationwide pageant queen. Two, the pageant I won hates me and wants me to resign so my newly founded archenemy can take the crown. Three, I have a chaperone for the next three months because they want to watch my every move and force me to resign. And four, my new buddy system friend is the grumpy bodyguard I drunkenly flirted with when he stopped me from entering a VIP section a few days ago.
I know God has to be a woman because no man has a sense of humor this good.
His eyes, no longer covered by glasses or the dim lighting of a club, are, in fact, handsome as can be, a green hazel with thick, dark eyelashes I’d kill for.
“I don’t have the time or patience to deal with some spoiled brat for the next three months. My job is to keep you safe. I am not a babysitter. Don’t act like a fucking idiot, and I’m not planning to report your every move to her.”
Well, that’s a relief, but… “I appreciate that,” I say. “But I’d also like to be friends. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and—” “No,” he says, brusque again, and now it’s starting to annoy me. “What?” “No. I don’t want to be friends. I don’t want to play get-to-know-you niceties. I know your type, and I’m not interested.” “My type?”
“Self-absorbed, only cares about appearances. The type that smiles and flips her hair and thinks that can get her anything in life, while th...
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“You think you know me so well, you think you have me so pegged, but you don’t know ...
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“I don’t get it,” I say as he moves towards the door, trying to decode him. “Get what?” he asks, turning back towards me, that same look of irritation on his face. “Why you hate me. I did absolutely nothing to deserve this.” He lets out a small sigh, a tiny crack in his mask. “I don’t hate you, particularly. I just have no interest in following a beauty queen around. This assignment is essentially me being a glorified babysitter for a grown woman, and it’s a waste of my time. I’m annoyed that I’ve been ambushed by walking into this with you because, if we’re putting it all on the table, I find
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“What?” “With your little tirade about how annoying it will be to be my bodyguard. It sounded like you had some really big feelings about it, and I want to make sure you let them all out before I interrupt. So, are you done?”
“Perfect, great. So, here’s the deal: I don’t really like rules. In fact, the more rules people give me, the more I want to break them. I’m going to do my absolute best to make your job an easy one, but I’m going to be me, regardless. I won’t do anything crazy dangerous or stupid, but I’m not going to be some little subservient thing doing exactly what you say at any given moment.” He looks at me, then lets out a soul-deep sigh. “This is going to be a disaster,” he says under his breath.
“One thing,” I say. “What’s that?” “Don’t fall in love with me, big guy, okay?” I ask, reaching up and patting his cheek. His jaw goes tight. “I promise that won’t be a problem.” “Is that a challenge?” For the first time, he smiles back. From here, I see one dent in his cheek. A dimple. “Do your worst, Princess.”
“If there’s one thing I love, it’s a challenge. Literally won an entire pageant just to see if I could. But you? You might become my favorite challenge yet.” I almost don’t hear him mumble under his breath as I walk out “And you might just be mine.”
“Ava, you’re not allowed to date.”
“You know, it’s so funny, because I don’t remember saying anything about dating that man.”
“I won fair and square; I played by the same rules they all did; just because whoever they thought would win didn't, doesn’t mean I didn’t earn this.”
“Clumsy girls are the best girls. We’re having too much fun to worry about silly things like gravity.”
“I’m not an idiot. I know I look all cute and pink and silly, but I do have two brain cells to rub together. I know there’s danger, and believe it or not, I’ve survived twenty-six years without any major issues. I know you’re used to following around mega rockstars, but I’m just a girl who won a contest. Put the crazy away for a bit, use your common sense, and we’ll have a grand time this trip, okay?”
know you’re some kind of stoic asshole, and I know you’ve been all over the world, but I haven’t. I’m going to say hello to people. I’m going to hug little girls who tell me they’re inspired by me to start dancing or try their hand at a pageant. Get used to it. Figure out how to work with it—to work with me—because I won’t change who I am just because you have some chaotic idea of what is safe and what’s not. I’ll take common-sense steps to make sure I’m not making your job more difficult, but I need you to do the same.”
“Okay, okay. Look, let’s make a deal. I’ll do my best not to give you too many heart attacks by going off plan with your crazy, neurotic schedules, and you’ll give me some slack when it comes to being, well, me. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Everything this woman does rubs me in a way that makes me want to simultaneously strangle her and drag her into a room to fuck her until she can't argue with me anymore.
The uncomfortable truth is that no matter how annoyed I am by her, I met Ava Bordeaux in a crowded bar and haven't been able to stop thinking about her since. But, of course, I can't have her. I can't have the gorgeous, curvy blonde who seems to enjoy pushing my buttons because she's my assignment. Mixing business and pleasure is never a wise decision, and my job is all about weighing the pros and cons of any given action.
I want to continue to argue. But there's something about Ava that makes me want to do whatever I have to to get her to smile at me like that. Something about her is enticing; she is the kind of person who is having a good time just being alive and makes you want to have a good time as well. The type of person who won't have a good time if you're not having a good time. The kind of person who makes it her mission to ensure you have a good time, too. I sigh, resigning to the fact that this summer is going to be the strangest assignment I've ever been on. This will be a season of firsts, of
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"But social media is more than that! It's amazing. It connects people and inspires and teaches."
“I’ve decided I want to get to know you, Jaime Wilde.” “What?” “We’re going to be stuck together for the entire summer, a lot of it will be spent with just the two of us. Shouldn’t we know a bit about each other?” “I’m good. I think I know all I need to know about you, and I don’t think you need to know anything about me in order to do your job.”
“Then why do you hate me so much? What did I do to deserve this overarching generalization that I must be the worst, most irritating person on the planet? I know this isn’t the most exciting assignment, but I promise I’m not trying to make your summer a living hell. I’m not actually the worst person on earth.”
“I don’t… I don’t hate you, Ava. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you, okay? I’m trying to be… professional.” “Well, I don’t think
She’s not wrong: I’ve been judging her since the very beginning, assuming she was some diva who only cared about herself and her appearance, but never once has she actually reinforced that belief, other than the amount of time she spends getting ready. But even that, she explains, is just something she does because she likes it. Not for anyone else.
