behind the camera - fake dating sports romance (wlw)

Chapter Thirty-Three

MILLIE

Of course the perfect place is my aunt's coffee shop.

I don't even have to think about it—it's just where my body goes when the world gets too sharp around the edges. It's the only place outside my own apartment and my moms' house that feels like it was built for me, not for the version of me that exists in headlines or highlight reels. It's not just a bakery. It's Lauren's—and Lauren isn't just my aunt. She's one of the only people in my life who's never asked me to be anything other than exactly who I am. Not a legacy. Not a brand. Just Millie.

But still, even here,
I'm not normal. I've never been normal.

I still remember the first time I really understood that.

I was thirteen, Aurora drove us here for pastries and quiet. I remember us thinking we could pretend for an hour—sit at a regular table, drink something warm, and maybe laugh.
But we hadn't even been sitting five minutes before the windows started to fill with faces. Cameras. Flashes. Voices yelling my moms' names, mine, Summer's. Rude words. Rude questions.

I remember how loud it got. How fast.
I remember being scared—but not letting it show. My fists curled tight in my lap, breath caught behind my teeth, ready to fight whoever came too close. I remember my voice shaking when I asked if they were allowed to do this. I remember Summer moving in front of me, tense and steady, and Aurora stepping between us and the people with this terrifying calm in her spine. She didn't yell. She dared them to come closer. She looked every one of them in the eye and made it clear they weren't getting past her. Not to me. Not to Summer.

I remember the sound of Camille's voice before I even saw her—sharp, clipped, furious in a way that didn't raise its volume, just lowered the temperature. She told them they were harassing a child, that she was going to call the cops. It was all handled in under a minute.

Then Aunt Lauren appeared and I'll never forget the way she looked at Aurora. The words she said.

"You're not normal. You're famous, all of you. They could've hurt you. That's why I built the upstairs."

She'd made it before any of us knew we'd need it. A private space above the bakery—sealed off, quiet, safe. Not a loft. Not an office. A refuge. She made it for us— my sisters, my cousins, her kids. Because she knew what fame would mean for all of us.

So yeah—when I say this place is special, I mean it with my whole chest. And it means something to bring Harper here. Even if she's already technically part of this world. Even if she's Audrey's friend, and Lauren already loves her, and she's probably eaten half the menu already.

It's different when I bring her.

"So... your special place is actually Lauren's shop?" Harper asks as soon as we step inside, her voice light, familiar. She knows exactly where we are, but she still sounds like she's discovering it all over again.

She turns to me with that stupidly bright smile that gets under my skin in the worst and best ways, and even before I can answer, I feel the shift in the room.

Two women at a table by the window glance up, one nudges the other. A phone lifts in slow motion. I hear the click of a shutter. There's a little gasp, then the whisper of recognition, like someone just spotted an animal from a rare species.

They always come here.
Because they know we do.

"Yes," I say calmly, sliding my hand along the edge of the counter as we walk in. "But I bet you didn't go upstairs."

Harper stops, brows raised. "What's upstairs?"

I narrow my eyes at her playfully. "Thank God Audrey didn't take you up there. I would've been so jealous."