Turn Up The Heat

Serena Hart came back from her break feeling like a shadow of herself.

The hotel lobby was dead quiet—midday lull, no guests to check in, no phones ringing, no emergencies. Just the low hum of air conditioning and the faint clicking of her heels as she returned behind the front desk. She adjusted her blazer out of habit, even though no one was around to notice if it was crooked.

Well, except Carlos.

He looked up from his perch at the back counter, a half-finished crossword in front of him and a protein shake bottle leaning precariously near the keyboard. "You okay?" he asked, brow furrowing. "You look like someone ran over your cat."

Serena tried to play it off with a light laugh, but even she could hear the hollowness in it. "I'm fine."

Carlos tilted his head, watching her. He had this annoying habit of noticing things—probably left over from all the time he spent checking himself out in mirrors.

"Seriously. You're never down. What's going on?"

Serena sighed, leaning against the counter. She hadn't meant to talk about it. She'd already unloaded to the group chat, but that hadn't felt great. Most of them had already closed the deal with Joey. They meant well, but Serena couldn't help but interpret their caring as pity.

But who else did she have to confide in? Her mother wasn't one to talk about relationships. In fact, since Serena decided to quit modelling, her mother hadn't really talked to her about anything.

"All those years preparing," her mother had scolded, "All those pageants, all the lessons. All for nothing."

It had gotten worse from there. Words were said. Unkind words. They hadn't patched it up yet. Serena wasn't sure she wanted to.

Sometimes you have to take the kindness where you can find it.

Carlos wouldn't have been her first pick to confide in. The first few months of working at the Renford he'd gone out of his way to hit on her at every turn. Finally, after Serena had brought it up with management, Carlos had apologized and backed off. She was used to creeps, but she wasn't used to the apology. He had genuinely seemed to feel bad, not realizing how he was making her feel when he wouldn't leave her alone. Maybe she'd made an impact on the man, something he could carry forward to his other relationships.

"There's this guy," she said, quietly.

Carlos blinked, surprised. "You? You've got it bad for someone?"

"Yeah," she said, voice softer. "I really like him. And I know we're supposed to be together. I know that. It's just…" She trailed off.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Just what?"

Serena pressed her lips together. "He doesn't even see me. It's like I'm invisible to him."

Carlos looked stunned. "Okay, hold up. You're telling me that you—Serena freaking Hart, hottest woman I've ever met—can't get some guy to look your way?!"

She gave a weary half-smile. "I know it sounds dumb."

"Dumb?" Carlos laughed. "It's insane. If I were that guy, you wouldn't be invisible. I'd throw myself into traffic just to carry your groceries."

Serena chuckled, but her eyes were distant. "Thanks, Carlos. But it's not you. It's… someone else."

He shrugged. "Figures."

She stayed quiet, staring down at the polished surface of the front desk, her reflection faint and blurred.

Carlos leaned back on his elbows. "You want my advice?"

Serena glanced at him sideways. "Do I? Sounds dubious."

"Trust me: You do," he said, confident. "You wanna know what gets my attention at the club? Like, what makes me forget every other girl in the room?"

Serena hesitated. "Sure."

He held up one finger. "First thing? They slut it up." He grinned, unapologetic. "Hear me out - it works. I mean it. Tight dress. Cleavage for days. Hips that don't quit. Hair down, lip gloss, that 'I know what I'm doing' walk. These girls aren't cool. They're hot."

Serena laughed. "Wow. So deep."

"I'm just saying," he said, undeterred. "If she's got the goods, and she doesn't put them out there, nobody's going to know. So, like, if I'm a tit guy and she knows it, she's wearing something with a damn deep V. If I'm an ass guy—which, let's be real, I am—she's backin' that truck into me on the dance floor. You feel me?"

She gave him a mock-scandalized look. "Carlos."

"I'm serious. You want a guy to notice you? Stop playing it safe. Maybe being the hot girl is working against you. Maybe you're used to guys falling for you so you don't put in the extra effort. Put it out there. And if that doesn't work? Nuclear option?" He gave a little shrug. "Get on your knees and show him how far you'll go."

Serena laughed again, but this time there was something thoughtful behind it. "That’s the most Carlos advice I've ever heard."

"Don't even pretend it's not good."

She shook her head and turned to tidy the pamphlets on the desk. "You're ridiculous."

But even as she rolled her eyes, her mind was racing. She'd tried to be subtle, elegant, the kind of woman who didn't need to compete. She thought Joey would just see her.

He hadn't.

Last night, she'd been a shadow in the background. Lost in the soft lighting and louder personalities. She was tired of waiting to be chosen.

Maybe Carlos was right.

Maybe it was time to stop playing it safe.

Time to turn up the heat.