Playboy-s Sexy Summer Girls 2012 Site

“I’m not here for the fame,” Lila confessed. “I’m here to prove I can be seen as something other than a brain.”

"We didn't make the cut. But we made the morning after."

“No,” Margo said. Flat. Final.

Lila froze. Margo’s spine went rigid.

That night, the mansion’s grotto was a kaleidoscope of neon drinks and hired suits. But Lila and Margo escaped to the empty badminton court. They lay on their backs on the damp grass, staring at the LA smog pretending to be stars. Playboy-s Sexy Summer Girls 2012

Lila kissed her. It wasn’t the glossy, choreographed kiss the producer wanted. It was awkward. Her nose bumped Margo’s cheek. They both started laughing, then crying, then laughing again.

“He’ll cut us from the issue,” Lila whispered. “I’m not here for the fame,” Lila confessed

Margo finally looked at her—not the lens-ready gaze, but the real one, tired and fierce. “I’ve been a storyline for three summers, Lila. A fantasy of rivalry, of friendship, of whatever sells. But you? You’re the first thing that wasn’t a caption.”

The problem was, Lila didn’t want to be rivals. She wanted to understand Margo’s stillness. Margo’s spine went rigid