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Chapter Text

Taking down a robot clone of the president. Mending bonds with the reptilian race. Visiting a sex cult on the moon. All perfectly normal missions for Cognito Inc to send the gang on. A mission that Reagan did not expect? Infiltrating the Miss USA pageant.

“What is this? Ms.Congeniality?” Myc blurted out from across the table where J.R. had just delivered instructions for their next mission.

“Uh, no you fucking idiot that was the Miss United States pageant this is Miss USA. There's a fucking difference.” Gigi pointed her finger in the mushrooms direction.

“Please JR, continue” Her tone changed as she smiled at JR pleading him to go on.

“Well as I was saying,” The graying-haired man cleared his throat “The Miss USA pageant is one of our greatest allies. They distract the world from real issues with beautiful women in swimsuits and run our subliminal messages in their ads. It's a great deal.” Glenn nodded his head in agreement a slide show of the pageant went on behind JRs head.
“But we’ve run into a bit of a problem.” JR clicked the remote to show a picture of Cognito Inc agents lounging around. “We keep the people at Miss USA happy by making sure that a contestant of their choosing wins. Bribing, sabotaging, killing. It's all on the table to make sure a reptilian from Florida or a lab-made creature from Organ wins for whatever reason they want it.”

“Wait-” Brett interrupted “If they already have a winner of choice beforehand why don't they just rig it themselves? I mean they are the ones running the contest right?” Everyone groaned at the redhead's question as if the answer was common sense.

“Yes, but they don't have the time for that. They're too busy making sure Miss Idaho doesn't drink all the sparkling champagne before she showcases her twirling baton talent.” JR clicked to show an image of the events he described. “Plus if the rigging is ever exposed to the public they won't be able to point the finger at some random organization we’ll make up to take the blame. These beauty queens take their shows very seriously Brett.”

The redhead hung his head in shame as JR scolded him.

“Well anyways, last year our agents got a bit sloppy and didn’t secure the winning title for Miss Oklahoma like we were told to do.” A picture of agents being massacred in multiple ways flashed onto the slide show” So we executed them and this year we’re sending our best agents into the field!” He pointed to everyone gathered around the table.

“So what? You want us to make some bribes? Cancel some of the girls on Twitter? Cause I'm sure they’ve all probably said a slur or two.” Reagan questioned.

“No no, we got all that basic stuff covered ourselves.” He waved his hand in the air “But this year we’re going to extreme measures to make sure we get the job done. We need someone to go undercover and sabotage from the inside.”

‘Fuck yes!” Gigi sat up with excitement “I’m finally getting my Sandra Bullock moment bitches! Give me my evening gown and let’s fucking do this!” She raised her fists into the air with excitement.

“Not so fast Gigi,” JR spoke stopping her from her celebration “We’re not trying to win this. If we send you in you could actually be in the running, we need to make sure our agent doesn't have a chance at winning.”

“You don’t mean-” Gigi sat back down with the excitement leaving her body. As realization sunk in everyone turned to look at the only other female agent in the room. After all, if she went on there wouldn't be a chance of her winning. It seemed that everyone understood except for the girl in question as she looked around confused.

“Reagan! Congrats on winning Miss District of Columbia!” JR raised his hands towards the brunette.

“What the fuck? Miss District of Columbia?” Reagan exclaimed.

“Gotta represent you know.” JR clarified.

“No that's not what I meant. I can’t compete in a beauty pageant!” She stood up in desperation. “I can’t walk in heels! I can barely apply mascara without smudging it!”.

“Oh, girl it’s always smudged.” Gigi shook her head in disapproval.

“Which is why Gigi will go undercover as your stylist!” JR explained, “Myc will be your life coach, Andre will be your assistant, Brett will be your guard and Glenn will be your loving yet overbearing father.”

“I knew you could do it, sweetheart! But you haven’t crossed the finish line just yet we’re getting you to that crown!” Glenn exclaimed.

Reagan looked dumbfounded.

“But… what about the actual Miss District of Columbia! She obviously wants her crown right?” A nervous smile crawled onto Reagan's face as she looked around at everyone, pleadingly.

“Well, obviously we shot and killed her. God Reagan you’re starting to sound like Brett.” JR laughed as he pushed a button, turning off the slide show and the lights on.

“Your plane leaves in an hour. Get your shit together and don’t embarrass me or else you’ll join the real Miss District of Columbia. Make sure our girl wins and remember… sabotage, sabotage, sabotage!”

JR walked out of the room leaving the gang to themselves. As a silence grew everyone turned to the stunned Reagan staring at the spot where JR stood.
“We’re fucked.” Gigi said standing up to leave.

Chapter Text

The plane ride was as shitty as ever. Broken seatbelts, stained carpet, and at least three almost crashes. You’d think that JR would send them on a nicer jet for such a batshit crazy mission but he really never spent extra cash unless it was on himself.

The sun had gone down by the time they arrived at the hotel that was smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Aka somewhere in the sunbelt. Reagan honestly wasn’t sure where this stupid competition was even being held, she was too focused on the fact that she was in the stupid competition. She was Miss District of Columbia. Or at least Rachel Alert was, the fake name she was given to hide her identity. It wouldn't have been her first choice but at this point, it didn’t really matter.

Reagan or Rachel either way she would have to wake up in the morning and go to a fake ass brunch with the rest of the contestants and then be interviewed by the judges one on one. Then the day after she’d have to put on a dress and makeup and prance around on a stage on live TV. She prayed her mom would be too busy being “entertained” by her pool boy to turn on the television.

“Reagan, are you listening?” Gigi snapped her fingers in front of the stunned girl's face.

After they had gotten to the hotel they checked into a room where the team would stay for the night and lay out their plan. Tomorrow Reagan would have to “officially” arrive and then share a room with another Miss whatever till the composition was over. She wasn’t sure who the worse roommate would be.

“This is important Reagan! You can not wear cool shades! Got it? No cool shades!” Gigi shouted in her face.

“Listen to her, honey! If we’re gonna win this you need to look your best.” Glenn chimed in from across the room where he was writing obscure markings on a map of the stage.
The whole day had thrown her for a whirlopp, for once working was something she didn’t want to do. And Glenn acting like her dad was not helping. She just needed to get away for one second.

“You know what guys? I'm gonna go get some more ice chips for when Andre overdoses and we need to freeze his body until we get back to HQ to revive him.” Reagan grabbed the ice bucket and began to walk out the door.

“Okay well hurry up because we’re going over body grooming next! I’ll be getting out the wax stri-” Reagan slammed the door shut before Gigi could finish her sentence.

As she walked down the hallway she couldn't be more glad that the contestants wouldn't be here till the morning, meaning she still had a few more hours till she had to act… well… like a beauty queen. She had no idea how she would do it.

It’s not like she was against make-up or dresses. She knew how to apply concealer and she had a dress or two in her closet. But definitely not the type a beauty queen would wear. She was more of the pathetic plus one dress type. Someone who wasn’t invited but came because her cousin didn’t want to show up alone. And for the most part, she was okay with that. Work and school had always been her focus. Not what the bet eye shadow shade was or when the next Kyle Lip Kit was coming out.

The fact that she excelled in her education so much meant that she had done the opposite in her femininity. She never really learned anything past a simple liner look and was uncomfortable wearing a dress above her knees much less a swimsuit. JR was in over his head. He should have just given the job to Gigi and she could have instructed her on how to not be so perfect. Was it too late to put a wig and dress on Brett and make him run the catwalk instead? Because Reagan was most definitely not above that.

“Reagan? You there?” A voice called out that belonged to the man she was just thinking about.

“Yeah, I'm just over here totally not sitting next to the ice machine so I don’t have to go back in the room and have my leg hair ripped out of me,” Reagan said as she did just that.

The redheaded man sat down on the floor across from her in a more casual version of his usual work attire. He had taken off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves, letting a few of the buttons on his shirt undone.

“What’s up Rea-dog? You wanna talk about what's on your mind?”

Reagan traced the rim of the ice bucket with her finger as she decided if she wanted to vent to her friend. Ultimately she decided why not.

“I just don’t think I'm cut out for this mission.” Reagan sighed as she let her head lay back. She hadn’t realized that was what she was going to say.

“What are you talking about? You’re Reagan!” Brett exclaimed “You’re cut out for every mission. You build awesome robots, you rip arms off your enemies, you leave Buzz Aldrin in space!” Reagan could tell he really meant all the nice things he was saying. But he just didn’t get it.

“Yeah, but I never had to do those things in heals! I mean look at me. I have a ketchup stain on my shirt! Or maybe it's blood. I have no idea. But either way do you think those beauty queens are gonna come here tomorrow looking or acting anything like me?”

“Well, you just need to let Gigi dress you up a bit right?”

“Okay so ill let her do her smokey eye and put an evening gown on me. Then what? I can suddenly smile to the camera and glide across the stage like those glorified barbies?” Reagan hadn’t said it aloud but she really didn't think she had what it takes. There is no easy way out here. Unless she made another robo copy of herself to take her place… but she wanted to stay on the safe side and not have a crazed robot trying to kill her yet again.

“No matter what type of boot camp Gigi puts me through there's no way I can be as good as those girls. I replaced my makeup phase with a harmful chemicals phase. I am somewhat of a failure to womenkind.”
She had never actually confronted her feelings about this stuff until now. While, yes, she was an accomplished woman in STEM was she actually a woman? Well… obviously yes, but she was a woman who didn’t know how to use a curling iron or insert a tampon. Trivial shit she should have learned in her youth. It was stupid to be insecure about this stuff when she was so accomplished in more important fields, but she was. And it was even stupider that she was having this stupid teen girl talk with a guy.

“Reagan” Brett moved over to sit beside the brunette, “You’re so much better than all of those girls combined. You make awesome inventions daily. You know so much more than I could hold in my little pee brain. You’re genuinely the smartest person I’ve ever met and will probably ever meet. You're so much fun to be around. You’re funny, brave, witty, and I know we tease you about it a lot but… you’re genuinely really pretty Reagan.” Brett’s voice softened at his last phrase.

The brunette couldn’t help but feel a blush creeping onto her face as she looked away. She couldn't remember the last time someone had said something so kind to her. Much less something well… something like that.

“Thank you, Brett.” She finally looked back at him after she felt enough blush fade away. Although she didn’t initially think she’d walk away from this conversation feeling much better about herself, Brett turned the tables on her. She was glad he had come looking for her in her ice chip corner. “You probably shouldn’t compare women to each other like that though, felt a little sexist but either way thanks.”

Brett smiled back at her and for a second Reagan thought he was about to reach for her hand.
“Of course Reagan. I'll be sexist for you anytime.” Brett raised his hand and placed it on her shoulder instead. “Now let's fill this bucket up cause I think Andre is actually about to have an Adderall overdose.”

Chapter Text

Reagan never really ate. And when she did it was an expired bag of chips from the cafeteria vending machine. Or some leftover pizza from the back of her fridge. It wasn’t like she did it on purpose or anything she was just too preoccupied at work or getting her 3 hours of nightly sleep. Point was she didn’t eat. And when she did it wasn’t pretty, or nice or nutritional in the slightest. And she most definitely did not do brunch. In fact, she could barely remember having family breakfast at the table without her mom chainsmoking in her face. Sitting around in sundress picking at assorted fruits and croissants was a foreign concept to her but Gigi was trying her hardest to make Reagan seem like she belonged.

“Jesus christ girl, even this full-coverage concealer won't hide your dark eye bags.” Gigi put the concealers cap back on and looked for something to help in her ginormous makeup bag.

They had both woken up early to work on Reagan while the boys slept in the room next door. Reagan had to admit that rooming with Gigi wasn’t actually that bad. She was sure that she’d have some complex night routine that would bother Reagan… and she did … but if Gigi could put up with her night rambling then she could put up with her essential oil humidifier.

“This isn’t just for me you know” She had told her the night before,”Your skin needs all the help it can get before you have to play dress-up tomorrow.” And this really did feel like playing dress-up. Like she was using mommy's make-up or trying on her heels that were five sizes too big for her feet.

As she sat at the edge of the hotel bed in her pajamas with Gigi pulling out tubes of makeup it almost felt like a slumber party. Or what she thought a slumber party would be. Girls lounging around doing each other's make-up. Only they weren’t really lounging around. She could tell Gigi was genuinely stressed and this was a job after all. But just for a minute, she could pretend she didn’t miss for formative years and was a teenager playing with eyeliner for the first time. Gigi began to brush powder on what seemed to be obscure sections of her face when a knock came at the door.

“Hey, you guys? Are you almost done in there? Reagan needs to be out there in an hour.” Brett's voice rang out from outside the door. Gigi scoffed and she put down her brush and opened the door.

“I’m barely baking her face, Brett. This takes time!” She walked back to Reagan leaving the door open for Brett to walk in. “I haven't even done her hair yet.”

Reagan hadn’t realized just how much time had passed since she woke up but if it was almost time for the ceremonial brunch then it must have been a while. She wasn’t sure just how long make-up, hair, and dress-up would take but she hoped it would mean she could skip her first assignment.

As Brett walked in wearing his usual suit his body froze as he layed eyes on Reagan. His eyes widened and reminded expressionless as he stared, not uttering a word. Reagan looked to Gigi as if she could tell her why Brett had reacted the way he did.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Reagan spoke almost defensively.

Brett finally moved as if he had just realized he had been staring.

“It’s just… um,” Brett looked to Gigi “Is it supposed to look like that?” He pointed in Reagan's direction as she realized the “it” he was talking about was her face.

“Like I fucking said Brett, I'm in the middle of baking her face. Of course, she’s gonna look like a cocaine-addicted clown before she actually looks good.” Gigi held up a hand mirror for Reagan to look at herself. Her face was covered in almost white powder making her look like the girl from the ring.

“Aw man, what the fuck.” Reagan instinctively reached up to touch her face but Gigi slapped her hand away.

Pulling out a brush from her bag Gigi called Brett over.

“Make yourself useful pretty boy and brush the mats out of her hair. We’re on a time crunch here.” Brett took the brush from her hand and looked at it as if it was a foreign object.

Instantly sirens went off in Reagan's head. She did not like to be touched. She couldn't be hugged and they all knew that. Sure Gigi applying makeup to her face was completely fine because… well… it wasn’t intimate. And having your hair brushed by another person was very intimate. It was something your mother did for you before the first day of school or something you did for your mother when she grew too old to do it herself. It could be argued that it was more intimate than sex. But she could tell if she argued Gigi just might bite her head off. Plus she was right they were on a time crunch so they needed all hands on deck. She would just have to suck it up and try not to flinch at human touch.

She looked over to Brett and if she didn’t know any better it looked like he had his reservations too. But he ultimately walked over and sat next to her on the bed. She shifted to the side to allow him more access to her hair. Slowly he lifted his arm and placed his hand on her head as if it was a sleeping baby. He lifted his other hand and tightened his fingers around her scrunchy as gently as possible and began to pull down as his other hand held the rest of her hair in place. She was surprised at just how careful he was being with her. She had assumed that a boy wouldn’t know how to brush out long hair and she was sure he didn't but he wasn’t being blindly aggressive like she thought he’d be. Instead, he was being blindly gentle. Like he wasn’t sure just how much her hair could take.

“I’ll be right back I need to check in with Andre and see if he got the right pumps for you.” Gigi put down the makeup sponge she was using on Reagan's face and made her way to the door. “We’re almost done with your makeup so we’ll get started on dress up soon.”

As Gigi left the room that sinking feeling she felt last night was coming back. The reality of it all. How she’d have to pretend to be something she’s not. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to call themselves a woman. God, she hated JR for making her do this. And she kinda hated herself for not letting her do this. But before she could spiral any deeper she felt Brett's hand in her hair. He began to take a section of hair into his hand and softly brushed the ends, slowly making his way to the roots. And when he would hit a tangle he would gently brush it out, taking his time as to not hurt her. She would never admit it aloud but… she didn’t mind this. At least not when it was like this. With Brett.

“You know you don't have to be so gentle,” Reagan spoke to the man behind her.

“But I don't wanna hurt you.” Brett stopped brushing as he spoke and Reagan instantly missed his touch. “My sister would never let me brush her hair when I was young so I’m not sure just how I'm supposed to do this but I’d rather take my time than end up pulling your hair out. You’ll tell me if I'm hurting you at all right?”

“Yeah, I will just keep going” Reagan was stunned at her own desperation. “Um… cause like you said we’re on a time crunch… and all.” She cleared her throat and thanked god that he couldn’t see her face.

Brett continued and almost embarrassingly she felt instant relief. She hated when people touched her. Especially in intimate ways like this but… for some reason with Brett… she didn’t mind it. Not when he took care of her like this.

“So how are you feeling about today?” Brett asked as he brushed at basically three strands of her hair. Maybe he was a little too gentle.

“I guess a little better. I’m still not sure how I’m gonna pull this off but for now, I just need to sit around and look pretty. Tomorrow is when the real challenge starts.”

“Well, that won't be too hard. You do that every day.”

“Do what?”

“Sit around and look…” Brett paused as if he realized what he had just said. “... look pretty.”

Reagan felt a blush creep across her face as it did last night. But why? People complimented her all the time. Hey, Reagan awesome robot. Hey, Reagan awesome presentation. Hey, Reagan, you’re pretty. That last one was different, especially when it was coming out of Brett's mouth.

The redhead cleared his throat and began to brush again. Reagan wasn’t sure how to respond but before she could say anything Gigi swung the door open with about five dresses slung over her shoulder and two pairs of shoes in her hand.

“Okay, I've got options for us. I didn’t get anything too flashy cause this is a brunch, we’re not pulling out the full stops just yet. We’re going for naturally beautiful. Hashtag woke up like this.” Gigi placed the clothes on the bed and walked over, taking the brush from Brett's hand and brushing through Reagan's tangles much less gently. Now it wasn’t so intimate. “We’re about to start dress up so you can go help Glenn set everything up. Unless you wanna stay for Reagan's clothing change.”

Gigi chuckled because it was a joke but even though that was obvious Brett's face grew red just as Reagans had done before.

“Nope. Nope, I’m good. Haha, funny joke Gigi. I'm loling. Lol. Haha. So anyways I'm gonna go help Glenn now. Okay. Bye.” Bretts closed the door behind him as the two girls watched him stumble into the hallway. They both stared at the door even after he had gone, watching in confusion. Gigi sighed in defeat, pinching her nose. Obviously tired of the day already.

“Girl, just get in the fucking pumps.”

-------

Soon enough Reagan was primped and polished for a brunch with beauty queens. Gigi had finished her make up and to her surprise, it wasn’t as extreme as she thought it be. It was mostly a natural look with some lip tint and gloss. Gigi had said that the brunch was more lowkey and that tomorrow was the real deal. Which was fine with her. The more delaying the better. Her hair was also lowkey. Gigi had curled it and then brushed it out in a nice wavey look with a side part giving it a voluminous appearance. Lastly, she wore a cream-colored cami dress that reached just above her knees with a slit down the right thigh. It wasn’t a drastic change like she thought it be. When she looked in the mirror her face was still hers, her hair was still hers, and her body was still hers. But somehow all put together it looked… really nice.
Reagan never really invested time into her appearance. She let herself crumble physically because she thought the little things didn’t really matter but… if a little extra work could make her look like this, well maybe it wasn't so bad.

As Gigi put the last few jewelry pieces on her a knock came at the door and without further acknowledgment, it swung open.

“Okay, we gotta get this show on the road. The beauty queens are arriving downstairs.” Myc slithered in with the rest of the boys behind him.

“I’m just about done. Put her earpiece in and we can get going.” Gigi said and she adjusted Reagan's necklace. She told her it had to be placed just right as to accentuate her boobs. Very classy.

“You heard her Brett put the earpiece in,” Myc said beckoning the man.

Brett pulled the earpiece out of his pocket and moved out from behind Myc. But as he looked up, actually seeing her for the first time with her hair and dress and makeup. He froze. He gave her a strange look that Reagan couldn’t quite place. He didn’t look surprised but he still looked caught off guard. And the way he looked at her made her a bit uneasy like he was looking at all of her. Then suddenly she realized what warranted this expression.

“Is there powdered shit on my face again?” Reagan looked to Gigi in annoyance. Was she trying to sabotage her before she even stepped on the stage? But she just scoffed at particularly no one.

“Ugh, girl ignore him.” She took the earpiece from Brett's hand and put it in place behind Reagan's ear, “You look fucking good girl. I put in the work and now you’ve reached your full potential.”

Even though Gigi’s comment could be considered an insult she decided to take it as a compliment.

“Okay, your earpiece has a mic so we can hear everything you hear and you can hear us. But we don’t have a body cam cause JR is an asshole and expects us to win this competition for Miss Texas with basically no budget.” Gigi spoke with annoyance.

Turning to the closet Gigi pulled out a small purse that matched Reagan's dress perfectly, pulling her right arm through it and placing it on her right shoulder. Her hand stayed on her shoulder, tightening as she gave her a serious look.

“Reagan, the second we step out of this room… you are Miss District of Columbia. The second you step out of this room you’re well spoken and charismatic and a little bit of a bitch but you’ve got that part down already.”

“Hey!” Reagan said defensively.

“What I’m saying is I’ve made you look like a beauty queen but you need to act like one. Only you can do that.” Gigi spoke in such a serious tone that made Reagan think… this might be the most important mission of her life… Miss USA might be the most important mission of her life. What a sad life.

-

“Okay here’s the rundown,” Andre spoke to the team as they waited in the elevator, slowly making their way down to the Miss USA brunch. “This year the Texan federation of beauty pageants paid our correspondents to secure the title for Miss Texas. They’ve won nine times and wanna make it to their big ten. So Reagan get in these girls' heads today but stay lowkey, we don’t want you bringing attention to yourself.”

“Well, that's gonna be hard!” Brett pushed out an awkward laugh as he looked around an uncomfortable silence fell over them “You know…cause… like…” He gestured towards Reagan “You uh… you look like that. Haha”

The silence grew longer as the gang shared disgruntled stares.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Reagan asked offendedly.

“Fuck dude I thought she looked kinda good.” Andre looked to everyone for agreement

“What! No that’s not what I meant! I just mean that Reagan looks really-” But before Brett could finish his sentence a ding came from behind him. The elevator opened its doors to reveal a hallway full of Miss USA contestants conversing near tables that read “Miss USA Check-In”.

“Okay Reagan this is it. Only one of us can go with you from here as to not draw suspicion. The rest of us will be in the hotel room talking to you through your earpiece.” Gigi said tapping on her ear.

“Okay, I can do this” Reagan let out a deep breath and looked towards the sea of model-worthy women “Let go, Brett.” The brunette walked out of the elevator, clinging to her purse for support with the redhead clattering to follow. As she slowly became emersed in the crowd of women she heard a ding and soon the elevator was gone.

She quickly but carefully made her way to the check-in line, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. Because a small part of her thought if she did, they’d know she was a fake.

“God, Brett how am I going to survive today? How am I going to survive any of this! I don't even know what happens after I get out this mimosa-infested hell.” Reagan whispered under her breath.

“We’ll after brunch you’ll go to your assigned room and meet your roommate. Then you’ll get ready for rehearsal which will probably take a couple of hour’s and then you’ll have a solo interview with the judges which will decide if you’re in the top fifteen tomorrow. And if you do make the top fifteen then you’ll participate in the swimsuit section and then they’ll decide the top ten which will go on to the evening gown section and be asked a deep question about society and junk. Then the top three are decided, they get asked another hard society question. The winner is announced and everyone cheers.” Brett recounts with a pep in his voice.

“How the hell do you know so much about Miss USA?” Reagan questioned, moving with the line.

“My mom and sister watch it every year and if I beg really hard they’ll let me watch from a place they can’t see me.”

“Great. That's great. How the hell am I gonna do all that.” Reagan let herself look at the other women for the first time. Most of them were taller than her in their high heels and big hair. They all looked comfortable and carefree as they chatted about the most mundane, pointless things. Like global warming.

“Reagan I know you can do this! If anyone can it’s you!” Brett said encouragingly.

“Really? Me? Out of everyone in the world?”

“Of course. Cause no matter what the mission is you always get it done one way or another. I couldn’t think of a better person for the job, Reagan.” Brett placed his hand on Reagan's shoulder where she could actually feel his hand come in contact with her skin for once. It was nice and warm and comforting, it was something she didn’t feel often.

“Next!” A woman shouted from the table in front of them, beckoning them forward. Reagan quickly cleared the empty space and stood in front of the women.

“Name?” The lady asked.

“Uh, Reg- Rachel Alert.” Reagan corrected herself hoping that the women didn’t notice.

“Miss DC?” If she had noticed she clearly didn’t care.

“Yes, Miss District of Columbia,” Reagan spoke in a way she wasn’t used to. With formality and pep and … well no cussing. For some reason, she felt embarrassed that Brett could hear her speak this way. Like presidential Barbie.

The woman scribbled something down on the clipboard in front of her and then turned to a box next to her. One by one she pulled out sashes that read Miss Idaho, Miss Washington, Miss Montana, then finally one that read Miss District of Colombia.

“Ah, here we go.” The women sat back up placing the sash in front of Reagan. “Make sure you don’t lose it because it’s the only one you’re getting.” The woman said as she wrote something else down.

Reagan took the piece of cloth and carefully placed it around herself making sure it didn’t ruin her hair or makeup. Strangely with the sash on she felt a bit more like a beauty queen like maybe she wasn’t an imposter amongst royalty.

“Okay thank you!” Reagan spoke in her Barbie voice once again and moved to leave the line with Brett behind her until the woman interrupted her.

“One more thing” The women spoke in a harsh tone “It’s only contestants from here. Your boyfriend can't come with you.”

The women's words threw her into such surprise that she made an expression Reagan would make, not Rachel. She quickly fixed her face and spoke in a way she thought a beauty queen would react.

“Oh! Brett here isn’t my boyfriend he’s my bodyguard.” She patted his chest because she thought that's how a beauty queen would act. Super touchy with everyone and anyone. Absolutely nothing like herself.

“Right, well” the woman spoke with annoyance in her voice “we have plenty of security here Ms. Arlet.”

“Of course, I’ll just send his back to his… quarters… or whatever.” She walked away before she could embarrass herself even more.

She knew she’d be completely alone on stage and at her one on one interview but she thought maybe she could sneak one person into a stupid brunch. What the hell was she going to do now.

“Hey don’t worry. This is just a minor setback.” Brett spoke softly. “I’m gonna go back to the room and I’ll talk to you through your earpiece with the rest of the gang. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Sounds like a plan.” She could feel her palms start to sweat.

“Just stay hidden okay? Don’t stand out. Blend in. Tell a few girls their boobs look uneven then get the hell out.”
“Okay, I can do that. Make grown women insecure, I do that all the time.” Reagan said more to herself than to Brett.

‘See you, Rachel.” Brett said as he turned and left Reagan all by herself. Perfect.

Chapter Text

The sound of her heels clicking against the floor was something she found surprisingly soothing. Like a metronome. Helping her keep a consistent tempo as she walked into the room. Reminding her to keep her shoulders back. Chin up. Stand tall. No resting bitch face. It was as if she had Gigi in her ear, talking to her. Which she also, actually was.

“Gigi to Reagan. Can you hear me okay?”

Moving to an empty corner of the room Reagan reached up to place her finger on the mic.
“Loud and clear.” She scanned the room as if she was looking for a potential threat or a certain target she needed to spot but the most threatening thing at the Ms. USA ceremonial brunch was a sharp heel. “Okay, what's my next move?”

“Uhh, find your seat?” Gigi said through the earpiece.

“Oh, right.” Reagan looked around. There were about a dozen tables with small cards in front of each seat reading off names and states. Most had at least two or three women seated making small talk. Which meant Reagan’s first mission was polite conversing. She could totally do that. Right?

Walking around she began to look for a table card that read “Rachel Alert, District of Columbia”. Every table was assorted with fancy looking scones and pastries with nicely cut-up fruit. Reagan wondered how much all this gourmet shit cost. The only time she’d get breakfast at work was when Brett would bring bagels for the office. And she knew the only reason he would drop 25 dollars worth of pastries every day was because he needed the validation and not because he had that kind of money to spend. This place had to have all types of expensive funding, though she didn’t mind indulging in it for a day or two.

After eyeing two tables down she finally found the card that read her fake name and real place of residency. But sandwiched between it were two preppy-looking bonds who seemed to be having a wonderful conversation about what could only be the blondest topic ever. There was no way Reagan could just quietly get through the brunch as she planned. She’d have to actually introduce herself and make chit-chat. Well, it was now or never.

“Hello! So sorry to interrupt!” Reagan mimicked the way her mother spoke when she was younger, at her book clubs that were really an excuse to get drunk with friends at ten A.M.

“I’m Rachel so nice to meet you two!” Reagan took her seat between the two girls as nicely as she possibly could. Trying to look dainty like the rest of the girls did but she wasn’t sure if she accomplished the look.

The two girls quickly jumped to great Reagan with the same beauty queen smile she was trying to mimic.

“Nice to meet you, darling! I’m Tiffany!” The blond on her right spoke with a southern accent. Looking down at the notecard in front of her it read Ms. Lousina.

“And I’m Amanda! So nice to meet you!” The blond on her left spoke with a much less aggressive accent. The card in front of her read Ms. Oregan. Now that she looked at her more closely it was a bit obvious she wasn’t a real blond.

After introductions, the conversation went down a pretty basic path. Talk about how much it was an honor to be here, what it would mean for the people back home, the kind of organizations they could contribute to if they won. Basic Ms. USA conversation that Reagan couldn’t really contribute so she just sat and nodded her head politely. Letting out an occasional “exactly!” or an “I completely agree!”. No matter what she said it had to sound excited or else it could be considered rude.

At some point during their conversation, Reagan heard the creak of a door through her headset. Which meant that Brett had made it back to the hotel room and could now hear the conversion she was having. Which for some reason made her stomach churn just a little.

“What about you Rachel?” The Oregan blond spoke,” What charitable work do you do?” Both girls turned to look at her, waiting for some amazing response. Like he spent the weekends bathing the poor. Or she saved raccoons from extinction. When in reality she wasn’t even charitable enough to round up to the dollar at Panda Express.

“Oh well,” She wracked her brain for some type of inspiration for her fake charitable organization “I… I help provide homes for old, helpless alcoholics.” Aka her dad but it was a pretty good lie. She was pretty proud of it in fact until she saw the stunted and confused looks of the blonds. They turned to eachother to conform the weirdness of Regan’s made-up charitable act.

“Oh…” Tiffany spoke, ‘Well I’m sure you make such a difference in those alcoholics' life.” She placed a hand over her chest. “God bless your soul.” She was really overselling this southern bell thing now.

The girls moved on to a different discussion topic when she felt a ring in her ear.

“Reagan!” Gigi spoke so harshly it made her physically flinch, “Stop being such a fucking weirdo and have some believable girl talk.” She wished she could shout back some insult but Gigi was right. She was really struggling out here.

As Reagan was taking in her feminine failure, a phone placed on the table buzzed twice.

“Oh so sorry about that you guys!” Amanda said apologetically as she reached for the phone. “It must be my fiance wishing me a good morning. He is such a late riser!” A smile appeared across her face as she spoke about the man.

“Oh, same here! A tornado siren couldn’t even wake up my husband!” The two girls laughed at their shared interest of their partners.

At that moment everyone's voice rang through her head. “Don’t stick out.” “Fit in” “Don’t screw this up”. It was like she was in high school again. Constantly sticking out. Never being a part of the crowd. But this time she would fit in. She would make sure of it.

“Oh, I wish my boyfriend was a late riser!” Reagan spoke in such a believable cheery voice it kinda scared her “He wakes up so early I’m pretty sure he has twice as much day than I do!”

Both girls laughed at her joke so loudly, making people around them look over at them.

“Oh and don’t get me started on his workout routine!” Reagan went on to talk about this imaginary boyfriend. Both the things that got under her skin but also the things she loved and cherished. The things she appreciated and couldn’t live without. She told them how supportive he was, how kind he was, and how much she could depend on him. All completely made-up facts about a completely made-up man. But either way, they ate it up.

They had met at the observatory and hit it off. Became close and started dating. “He’s proposing soon, I just know it,” she told them. They even adopted a husky together and named it Luna after their love of space. It was fun making up this false narrative of her happy little life. Maybe this mission wouldn’t be so hard if she could just brag about her imaginary boyfriend for the rest of it.

“So what's his name?” Amanda asked.

“Oh, the dogs a girl. And her name is Luna!” Regan clarified and began to move on.

“No honey I think she means your boyfriend.” Tiffany clarified, “What’s his name?”

“Oh, my boyfriend!” Reagan was caught off guard. She let out an over-exaggerated laugh. “Silly me!”

For some reason, everything was so easy to come up with. A fake meet-cute. A fake lover. A fake soon-to-be proposal. As if it was all placed away. Ready for her to talk about when she needed it. But a name stumped her. Just a single name. She blanked. So she said the first name that came to mind.

“Brett.” The name came out more like a question than an answer.

“Yeah, it's Brett.”

Before the blonds could accept the name of her fake boyfriend and real best friend, a voice came over the mic. But not the mic in her ear (that one was silent, which made her nervous) but the mic on the podium that stood at the front of the room.

“Hello, ladies and welcome to the Ms. USA ceremonial brunch!” A man in a suit spoke, beginning his speech. Everyone turned to listen as he went on.

But Reagan was more worried about what she just said. That Brett was her boyfriend. No! Not her Brett. Just a Brett. There are tons of guys named Brett. So her imaginary boyfriend just so happens to have the same name as her best friend. Not a big deal. No reason for her to worry. Plus Brett just so happened to be the closet man in her life at the moment so it was no surprise his was the first name she thought of. That was a completely believable excuse. But would he accept that? Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like this meant anything other than she blanked and used the first name that came to mind. But still… What was he thinking right now? Why was no one speaking to her through her earpiece? Gigi would have a fucking field this with this. Say some shit about it being her subconscious exposing her. So why was the only person speaking to her right now the old guy on the podium?

God, she could just imagine the silence and the stares that were happening in the hotel room right now. Fuck! Why did she say his name. Why did she say his name? He was the closet man in her life at the moment. Well, he was the closet man in her life period. Her father’s neglect and disdain had made it hard for her to come close with any men at all but somehow Brett had weaseled his way on the very short list of people Reagan cared about. He was a special case. They would have lunch together in her office and carpool to work on lazy days. Sometimes he’d come over for movie nights. And sometimes on those nights, it would get just a little too late and they’d both get just a little too tired and talk about things they’d never tell anyone else. Like how she sometimes thought about trading her intelligence and talent for a regular childhood. And how he sometimes thought it would have been better to not been born at all than to be born into his family.
On those nights Reagan would think about asking him to stay the night. Just so their conversation wouldn’t have to end. She could pull out the air mattress for him and they could chat into the night and then be surprised when the sun came up. As if they both didn’t feel their eyelids getting heavier and heavier throughout the night but forced them to stay open just for another five minutes of conversation with eachother. But if she did that, it would be the first time she’s ever asked anyone to do so. And that was scary. So she never did ask. But if she did ask, she felt like he would stay.

He was the type to stay and she’d never had that before. He stayed when she gave him a tough time when he first started the job. He stayed when everyone gave him shit for being a people pleaser. He stayed when life and work and parents became too much for her and she just needed to cry into someone’s chest. That had only happened once though. And the next morning she tried to apologize but he just said “You’re human Regan. Humans need humans to cry with”. That’s when she knew he was different. Different for her. Maybe that’s why she had said his name.
----

The brunch went quick enough after that. Speeches were made. Food was eaten. Conversations were had. For the most part, Gigi and the rest of the gang were pretty silent. A “Go talk to her” and a “Fix your hair” was said here and there. At one point Reagan had forgotten all about the sabotaging aspect of her mission until Gigi reminded her. So she told a girl or two that she loved how unique their nose looked or how bold their eyebrows were and they instantly fled, taking it as an insult. It was a good day’s work.

It had been easier than she expected. Most of the girls just talked about how their flights were, how happy they were to be here, and of course their boyfriends. Which reminded her. She had to face her fake boyfriend now. But before she could leave the room a young man in a suit approached her.

“Rachel Arlert?” He spoke.

“Uh, yes?”

“You have not checked into your room yet? Would you like me to take your things up for you?”

“Oh, no that’s okay thank you.” Reagan moved to the side, attempting to walk past him but he stepped into her path.

“Are you sure ma’am? All the other girls have already done so?” Fuck. Don’t stick out. Stick out.

“Oh well, in that case, my father can bring you my luggage. I’m sure he’s somewhere in the lobby. Thank you for the help.” She moved past him, walking out of the now empty room until she felt his grip on her wrist.

“Ms. Arlert. I believe you should check in yourself.” He spoke calmly as if he wasn’t a strange man, holding her the way he was.

At that moment all the beauty queen crap flew out the window. The no cussing rule, the exceptionally kind bullshit. If she blew the mission she didn’t care.

“If you don’t get your hands off me right now I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll need medical assistance to take a shit for the rest of your life.” Her voice lost the perkiness that she had just been using with the beauty queens.

Slowly he let go of her hand and took a small step back.

“My apologies Ms.Arlert.” He spoke calmly and without regret. His eyes even seemed to hold a hint of hostility. “If you’ll excuse me.” He said before leaving the room.

What the fuck was that. Reagan had dealt with creeps before. The usual catcaller and the likes but she had never had a man actually put his hands on her. And most definitely not when he was on the clock. It honestly shook her up. Even more so because she was dressed the way she was.

“Reagan? Are you okay? What was that?” A voice spoke in her ear. Shit. She forgot about the earpiece. And she forgot that they could hear everything she did.

“Reagan? We’re coming down right now.” The voice spoke with panic. But the voice didn’t belong to the woman that had been chewing her ear off for the past hour.

“No, no!” Reagan whispered into the mic. “I’m fine. I’m coming up right now. Don’t come down here you could bring attention to us and ruin the mission. I already did enough of that.” Although she didn’t regret it.

“I’ll be up in a sec.” She said before she turned off the earpiece and tossed it into her purse. She knew she’d have to deal with some more “are you okays” and she didn’t want to hear it right now. This mission was already stressing her out and now there’s some creep bell boy that had his eyes set on her for some reason. This day just kept getting better and better.

As she made her way to the elevator, the clicking of her heels felt a lot less like a metronome. Now it felt like a siren, calling attention to her. Even though she was alone now and the halls were empty. Most of the beauty queens had probably gone to their room to get ready for rehearsal, which she would have to do soon.

In the elevator, she stepped out of her heels and when she placed her feet on the ground she felt like she was about to fall forward. Not just because of the weight shift but because all of that was so… tiring. She had pulled all-nighters before to finish projects and proposals but this was a different kind of job she wasn’t used to. It was really hard looking pretty 24/7. And it was hard being harassed by some dude when all your coworkers are listening.

As soon as she turned the corner into the hallway she saw Brett standing a few doors down. He had his hand in his hair, pacing back and forth with a worried expression. And when he finally saw her he made a b line towards her.

“Oh my god, Reagan!” He almost shouted, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why are you barefoot?”

Reagan served out of his way, barely missing his grasp.

“Yup, all good! Just need to get ready for rehearsal.” She sped walked past him, swerving into the hotel room. In the room, the rest of the gang stood sprawled around waiting for her. She threw her heels onto the bed and immediately started digging through the small closet that held her wardrobe, hoping no one would mention anything.

“Okay, let's get this show on the road. Where the fuck is the lululemon!” Reagan looked over her shoulder towards Gigi “Are you gonna put my hair in pigtails cause that's fucking horrendous.”

Behind her, she could hear Brett walk back into the room. As she grabbed anything that could be considered workout attire, she could feel the eyes on her back. She knew they wanted to ask but she hoped they would just drop it.

“Sooo, we’re just gonna pretend like Reagan wasn’t attacked by some pervert?” Myc spoke over the silence. She really couldn’t ignore it now.

“I wasn't attacked!” Reagan threw a bundle of clothes on the bed. “What’s my wardrobe?” She spoke at particularly no one. Hoping that it would distract everyone when it obviously wouldn't. She was especially desperate.

“Uhhh, are you forgetting we can hear everything through your mic?” Andre dug the earpiece out of Reagan's handbag and held it up for her to see as if she hadn’t been wearing it for the past three hours. She reached up to take it from his hand but he pulled it away as she did.

“ Yeah you can hear everything but you can't see shit, fuckface.” She said scrambling to the earpiece. God those extra inches on the heels would help so much right now.

Brett came close to Reagan, speaking in a soft voice. Concern was sprawled over his face making Reagan feel just a tad bit guilty for keeping him out of the loop. Just him. No one else.

“Reagan, we just want to know what happened down ther-” Suddenly Gigi stepped between the two, cutting him off.

“Okay, everyone stop chitchatting and do your jobs!” She shouted to everyone in the room. “Glenn and Brett take Reagan's stuff to her room. We don't need people questioning why she hasn’t checked in yet. Myc go find some security guards and read their minds, we need more intel. And Andre you… uh, you go flirt with some beauty queens or something. I don’t care just get the fuck out and stop annoying me.” Everyone stood in silence at Gigi’s sudden change of demeanor.

“Did I fucking stutter?” Gigi spoke with aggression in her voice, “Everyone get the fuck out! Except you Reagan, I'm gonna put your hair in some french braids and you’re gonna fucking like it.”

With that, the men suddenly gathered themselves and scrambled to leave the room. But Brett took just a second longer to leave, throwing a glance at Reagan just before he did. She felt bad that she had left him hanging but she just didn’t want to deal with it. So some guy was being creepy to her. Now suddenly it was the main topic of conversation. No one cared about the intel she got or the egos she managed to bruise or the fact that she said Brett was her boyfri-.Fuck. She forgot about that.

“Here” Gigi handed Reagan a makeup wipe from a small baggie, “Wipe off your makeup for rehearsal, we’re gonna do an even more natural look. Probably just some concealer and mascara.”

As she took the wipe from her hand she thought about asking Gigi about the boyfriend thing. Had they heard? Or did they just happen to be out of the room when she said it? Maybe everyone had forgotten about it just like she had.

“So you’re telling people Brett’s your boyfriend now?” Gigi ask nonchalantly as she picked out some shorts from the pile of clothes Reagan had thrown on the bed.

“Fuck.” Reagan responded, “So you guys heard that?”

“Not everyone. Myc, Andre, and Glenn were fucking around through most of the mission and couldn’t bother to listen in until … well the end.” Gigi’s eyes lingered on Reagan for just a beat too long.

“So that means Brett...”

“Yeah, he heard.” Gigi finished the brunette's sentence.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fucckkkk. Instantly, she was mentally kicking herself. She should just explain. Obviously, she should do that. It would make sense. God, no it wouldn’t. But why wouldn’t it? It's.a valid excuse. Right?

“Look, when I said Brett was my boyfriend…” Reagan waved her hands as if she was explaining an actual concept, “I wasn’t talking about Brett Brett. I was talking about my fake boyfriend Brett.”

“Fake boyfriend Brett?”

“Yes! Fake boyfriend!” Reagan exclaimed. “Really its quite that simple.”

“Right… okay…” Gigi looked her up and down.

She brought over some brown biking shorts and a black sports bra to Reagan (with many, many strings) and laid them down next to her.

“Get dressed psycho” Gigi said as she moved to the other side of the room to give Reagan some space to get undressed.

Reagan grabbed the shorts and put them on effortlessly, they were actually really comfortable and the simple brown was really cute. But the weird strappy bra was the real problem.

“Okay look. I know it was really weird that I said Brett was my boyfriend.” She placed her arm through some strings and hoped that's where it was supposed to be, “But I was put in a tight spot okay? I made up the stupid fake boyfriend to fit in and then they asked for a name I completely blanked and the first name that popped into my head was Brett’s. And I just... I don't know why I said it! Maybe it's because he was the first man I could think of. Maybe I said it because his name is a single syllable and it’s one of the easiest names on the planet to say.”

She definitely put the bra on wrong because there were absolutely no strings above her left shoulder and about 3 on her right, which she was pretty sure was the incorrect way to wear it.

“You sure you don’t know why you say his name?” Gigi asked, almost accusingly. Like she knew why, when Reagan didn’t.

“What are you talking about?” Reagan pulled some string over her head.

“Well I think it's pretty obvious why you said his name,” Gigi placed a hairbrush and some hair ties down near the chair. Making sure not to look in Reagan's direction in case she was still changing.

“If you know why I said it then maybe spell it out for me.” Reagan spoke, “And come help me figure out this death trap because I might sophisticate within the next five seconds.”

“Jesus fucking christ. Do you not know how to be a female?” Gigi turned to release Reagan from the staps around her neck. “Those go behind your head, not around your throat, dumbass.”

As Gigi pulled the strings loose and placed them where they were supposed to be Reagan thought about what she said. Should there be a real reason why she said Brett's name? Was it not just a slip of the tongue? The human mind does weird shit for no reason all the time. It's why you have dreams about fucking your cousin. Was this not one of those weird-mind fuck moments?

“Why do you think I said Brett was my boyfriend?” Reagan asked defeatedly. She might as well hear her answer because she didn't have a strong one.

“You said Brett was your boyfriend because you want him to be your boyfriend,” Gigi said as if the answer was that simple. As if what she just said wasn’t the bomb it was.

She scoffed. Because that's all she could do. Scoff, at that accusation. That she wanted Brett… in that way. That that could ever imagine herself having that kind of relationship with Brett. Brett was her best friend. It was something she never saw coming but it was the truth. They confided in each other and to ever feel that way about him would be… a betrayal. It would ruin everything. He was her first real friend. And she was his.

And it was a miracle that they did become such close friends. Because they were so different. Brett was popular in high school, he was in every frat at Yale and people liked him. Maybe it was because he was a people pleaser but they liked him. While she was a loser at birth. The outcast no matter where she went. She kept her head down throughout high school and went unnoticed for most of it. They were so different. Complete opposites. It would be pathetic if she did like him. The nerdy loner girl having feelings for the popular jock. If it wasn’t so sad it would be funny. But that’s not what this was. So it wasn’t sad. And it wasn't funny.

“You’re crazy” Regan finally spoke. And just as she did Gigi placed the last strap in its place. It turned out to be a cross design on the back that involved four straps and then two thicker straps crossed under the front of the sports bra as an accent. It was actually really cute but too complex for Reagan's liking.

“Maybe, but I'm not blind,” Gigi said “You spend every breathing moment together. Before work, at work, after work. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he moved in.”

“So what? We hang out! We’re friends. Friends hangout. Or can a man and a woman not hang out anymore without people thinking there's something between them?.” So what if they hung out regularly? It didn’t mean anything other than they enjoy each other's company in a platonic way. So they went for a drink after work and met for coffee before it? That doesn't mean much.

“You also let him hang out in your office when you’re working on a project,” Gigi said as she pulled out a chair near the hotel's vanity.

“So?” Reagan sat in the chair preparing herself for those horrible french braids.

“You don’t let anyone in your office when you’re working on a project,” Gigi pointed the hairbrush at her accusingly “Except for Brett.”

She split Reagan's hair into two sections and tied one up to make sure it didn’t get in the way as she began to braid at the top of her scalp. As she did Regan couldn't help but think about Brett's hands in her hair. Gently brushing it out, doing his best not to hurt her.

“And he’s the only person you don’t yell at for groaning at your hour-long presentations.” Gigi continued “He’s the only person who can convince you to eat lunch in the cafeteria instead of your office. He’s the only person who you listen to when your crazy-ass plans go too far. And he’s the first person you look for when you get to work.”

“What do you mean I look for him?” She asked defensively. Half trying to avoid all the other things Gigi has said.

“You look for him. I see it, Reagan.” She tied one end of the braid and then moved on to the other. “You walk in and you scan the room and your eyes don't stop scanning till you see him.”

Reagan scoffed. It was all she seemed to be doing in this conversation. Scoffing at Gigi’s weird accusations as if she knew anything about her relationship with Brett. But calling it a relationship made it seem like it was romantic. So it was her friendship with Brett.

“Whatever you're just saying random crap because you’re bored. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. It was a random slip-up with absolutely no meaning.” Reagan stated.

“Fine, then how about we talk about the freaky fucker from downstairs.” Reagan tensed at the mention of the creepy bell boy.

“What is there to talk about?” Reagan questioned hoping Gigi wouldn’t have an answer.

“Well like I said earlier, we don’t have a camera for you. Just a mic. So we heard everything but we didn’t see what happened. So… what happened?” Gigi asked plainly as she tied the second braid. Placing her hand on Reagan's shoulders.

“Ugh.” Reagan realized she had to explain at some point or another “He just… came up to me and started asking me about checking in and it seemed pretty normal up until he grabbed my wrist and blocked me from the door.” Gigi didn’t speak, waiting for her to finish.

“So yeah I told him to fuck off and he left.” Reagan finished plaining.

“Well,” Gigi finally spoke “ I fucking hate creeps. Manifesting he has his dick chopped off.”

Reagan laughed, agreeing with the other women. She was mostly relieved that she didn’t make such a big deal about it. Gigi had probably dealt with creeps too and knew that at a certain point it was easier to ignore it and move on. At east that both had that women experience in common.

“But just so you know the gang did seem pretty worried when they heard all that stuff over the mic, especially Brett. He basically ripped my mic away from me to check on you.” Gigi said placing Reagan's braids in front of her, framing her face “Maybe just let him know that you're okay.”

“Yeah.” Reagan agreed, reluctantly. “I'll do that, probably”

Reagan reached up to touch her hair. It was kinda cute in a sweet way. Her hair wasn’t long enough for the braid to touch her shoulders which is what made it look kind of kiddish but the two strands of hair Gigi left out in the front made it better.

“You’re also gonna have to come up with an excuse as to why you said he was your boyfriend,” Gigi said.

“ Fuck you for ruining the moment, bitch”