Damaged Like Us (Like Us #1)(84)

Sulli takes a bigger breath and looks to Akara. He combs his black hair back and fits on a backwards baseball cap. She asks him, “You’ll be there while we film? Even if it’s not a public place?”

“If you want me there,” he says, “I’ll be there, Sul.”

“Okay, good.”

Jack edges closer to the table. To her. “Hopefully,” he says, drawing Sulli’s gaze, “you and me will reach a place of trust where you won’t need Akara in the room.”

The air snaps on the security side of things. Jane rocks back with me, our furrowed brows on the three bodyguards.

Akara is boiling. Venom in his glare, muscles supremely flexed. Sitting completely still—that’s somehow more intimidating. And no one intimidates me.

But you know that.

You don’t know that Farrow has his fist to his mouth, jaw tensed.

Or that Quinn crosses his arms at Jack.

They’re not happy that he just metaphorically banished a bodyguard from a room. Jack senses this and speaks directly to Akara.

“Why would you need to be in a secure environment?”

“Because she asked me to be,” he says curtly. “Any other questions, Jack?”

“For Sulli, yeah,” Jack says, trying to ignore the incensed bodyguards.

Sulli hesitates to eat another bite of food. “You okay, Kits?”

Jack and Akara stare each other down.

And then Akara says flat-out, “Respect security and we’ll respect production.”

“Sounds good, man.” Jack swigs his sports drink.

Akara nods.

I’m fucking impatient. “Let’s move on.”

“How about,” Jack says to Sulli, “you tell us what you’d like to talk about on the show. You said there’s bullshit that needs to be said. What bullshit?”

Sulli uses her muscular bicep to wipe her mouth. “So the photographs from the Olympics.”

My muscles bind, but she’s able to meet Jack’s gaze while unloading more of her feelings.

“The ones with the hair. The stupid fuckwads who keep thinking it’s funny to zoom up on my bikini line need to know they are fuckwads.”

“Agreed.” I finish off my tea in one gulp.

Olympics should’ve been a time to celebrate Sulli’s athletic achievements. The entire fucking time, the media latched onto her shaving and waxing habits. Weeks before the summer games, they photographed Sulli with stubble and hair by her bikini line.

The image went viral.

85% of the questions reporters asked at the Olympics centered on her hair—and she answered all of them with a definitive fuck you.

That also went viral.

“Does the topic go deeper than the Olympics?” Jack asks. I tense.

“What do you mean?” Sulli scoops a piece of waffle.

“He means when you were younger,” I explain. “Did you deal with anything like that growing up?” Her forest-green eyes that match my hue just drown against me—because I was there. I grew up with Sulli. I saw her hit puberty earlier than most girls. Her hair is dark and grows fast.

I saw the boys after swim meets jeer at the hair on her arms. I shoved two in a pool when they started making gorilla noises. And then I hugged Sulli in the locker room, and we collectively said, fuck them.

Fuck them.

“Do I have to talk about that right now?” she whispers to me.

“No.” I give Jack a serious look like work your production magic and pivot this topic. Now.

“Maybe you and Moffy can have a segment swimming or racing one another.” Thank you.

I almost smile. “You mean a segment where she kicks my ass.”

Sulli’s lips curve, and she knocks her shoulder to mine. “I’ll go easy on you.”

“No you won’t.” I rotate to Jack. “I’ll only do it if you agree to get your ass beat by her too.”

Quinn coughs in his fist. What’d I say?

Farrow cracks his neck, silently gesturing to Akara. Who looks murderous. Not at me. At Jack.

I suggested swimming not fucking.

Jack wouldn’t overstep the production-talent boundary. I would tear him limb from limb.

He knows that.

Sullivan swings her head to the exec. “You swim?” Her eyes light up. The list of people she can race on her free time is short.

“Four years at Penn.” He gives her a smile and then flips a page in his notes. “Can I get personal with you for a second?”

Sulli uncaps a water. “Sure.”

“Would you want to discuss your virginity on the show?”

The room cuts in a tense silence. Sulli has shared pretty much a bucket of nothing with the public concerning dating or sex. She’s been private, and so everyone assumes she’s a virgin.

Their assumption is correct. For once.

“Um…” Sulli mulls it over.

“No pressure,” Jack says. “Since a lot of people talk about sex on the show, I have to ask.” He pauses. “Have you watched any episodes of the series?”

“Not really.” Sulli rests her hand on her squared jaw. “It’s kinda weird seeing your family on TV.” She’s not the only one who chooses to skip it.

Her best friend Beckett Cobalt hasn’t seen a single episode.