Mia looked up. The purple-haired sound tech gave her a thumbs-up. Kaelen was already walking away, his phone pressed to his ear, his shoulders tight.

Kaelen was Star Teen ’s golden boy. His face was on every third page of the magazine, his hair a deliberately messy sculpture of product and nonchalance. He was currently scrolling through his phone, utterly bored, while a stylist adjusted the cuff of his oversized thrift-store blazer—a blazer that cost more than Mia’s first car.

The way he said look was a velvet knife. Mia stepped forward, the wheels of the camera dolly whirring to track her. She could feel the heat of the lights, the weight of thirty crew members’ impatience.

“Okay, people, from the top. Kaelen, you introduce Mia. Mia, you walk from the back, hit your mark, and talk about the jacket. Keep it bubbly.”