Flirting With Fame (Flirting With Fame) (10 page)

F
ernbrooke had exactly three bars: One catered to an older clientele and was the kind of place where you nursed a beer all day in the dark while mourning the loss of employment or your hair. The second was nicknamed “the Old Kick and Stab” for reasons that didn’t need to be explained beyond that. Luckily for me, Reggie chose the third, the Happy Cactus,
which was a little nicer than the other two, and thus busier on a Saturday night. My roommate, ever the social butterfly, knew the guy at the door from her Spanish class. He waved us past the line with a nod. We headed to a private booth in the corner near the bathrooms and Reggie slipped onto the bench across from me. Her eyes darted past the bar, between the packed bodies, and toward the entrance.

“He’s meeting us here?” I asked.

Reggie nodded, then her face broke into a grin. She waved to someone over my shoulder. “He’s here!” I smiled up at the cowboy as he approached our table.

“Howdy, beautiful Elise. The fair Regina.” Clint tipped his hat and sank into the booth beside my roommate, who had already scooted over to give him ample room. “It was so nice of y’all to invite me.”

“It was Reggie’s idea,” I said, unable to meet his gaze without thinking about his body pressed against mine outside our dorm. At least he hadn’t made any mention of it since it happened. Neither had I. Years of avoiding awkward conversations had made me an old pro at it.

Reggie beamed at Clint while I surveyed the bar. Red leather booths like ours took up most of the space on the outer edge of the room; almost all of them overflowed with college kids toasting with beer glasses or munching on nachos drowned in cheese and salsa. The walls boasted desert scenes to match the bar’s name. Potted cacti and jars of sand dotted the shelves by the windows, and a blinking blue
OASIS
sign drew the eye to the L-shaped bar on the other side of the room.

Clint tapped me on the wrist to bring my attention back to him. “I hear we’re celebratin’ something tonight. What’s the big to-do?”

“Nothing much,” I said. “I got a job as Aubrey Lynch’s assistant.”

“And who might that be?”

Reggie choked on a peanut. She beat her chest and coughed into a napkin.

“How can you not know who Aubrey Lynch is?” she asked, balling up the remnants of pulverized peanut. “She wrote
Viking Moon
! She’s, like, the most brilliant author ever.”

Her words settled themselves like warm drops of tea in my chest. I pursed my lips to stop a smile from overtaking them and giving me away.

Clint squinted at me. “Isn’t that the book you had the other day?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Reggie beat me to it. “Yes! It’s actually my copy. I loaned it to Elise.”

“The one about Vikings, right?”

“Right.” Reggie beamed.

Clint’s eyes met mine and I was once again struck by the clearness of them. “And you got a job working for her?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m her assistant on the set of the
Viking Moon
TV show.”

Our server’s appearance meant I didn’t have to explain any further. We ordered our drinks—beers all around—and the girl sauntered off without bothering to ask for ID. So, Reggie was right. They knew who paid their bills.

Without warning, Clint reached forward and touched the bandage on my forehead. I flinched, hitting my head on the back of the booth. Thank goodness it was padded. My poor head had taken quite a beating already.

“What happened?” the cowboy asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I pulled my hair down over the cut. “I was hit in the face with a boat on set today.”

“What?” Reggie asked.

“You know, that wouldn’t have happened in a cowboy TV show,” Clint said.

“Right. With my luck I’d have been trampled by a horse instead.”

My friends exchanged a look and Reggie giggled. The server dropped off our drinks in the middle of the table. My fingers grazed Clint’s as we both reached for the same glass. I snatched my hand back, and he nudged the glass toward me.

“That one’s all yours, darlin’. ”

I took a sip of my drink and someone kicked me in the shin.

Hard.

“Ow!” I gagged as beer went up my nose, then glared at Reggie. “What was that for?”

“Look who’s here,” she said.

I followed her pointing finger as I wiped at my face with a napkin.

Gavin and Veronica practically floated across the beige-tiled floor, their eyes on each other, and everyone else’s eyes on them. The groups around us, who looked like they’d filled the bar with noise only moments before, now hunched together, speaking in what I assumed were hushed voices.

The couple took a seat a few tables behind us and I ducked as Gavin’s gaze swept in my direction. I turned to Reggie and Clint.

“What are they doing here?” I asked.

Reggie shrugged. “That must’ve been the text she got earlier. You know, the one that made her run out of our room like there was a sale at Tiffany’s?”

I peered around the booth again and studied the couple. Veronica looked stunning, as usual. Her hair was half pulled back in a sparkling black clip that matched her curve-hugging black dress. Gavin sported a jacket and buttoned shirt over jeans, with one button undone to reveal a hint of his impressive chest.

Veronica leaned forward and said something to Gavin. I didn’t have a clear enough angle to see what it was. He laughed and her hand inched across the table and rested on his. He glanced at her manicured fingers, but didn’t pull away.

I swallowed the lump swelling in my throat. He’d been so sweet to me that afternoon, and so completely unaware of Veronica. But maybe he’d felt sorry for me. After all, I’d just been clocked by a boat. I was probably some sad assistant he wanted to make sure didn’t file a lawsuit against the production company.

I sat back in my seat and Reggie touched my hand. “Hey, you okay? You look like someone just ran over your hamster.”

“Of course. I mean, she works fast, but they make a gorgeous couple, don’t they?” Reggie nodded and Clint shrugged in reply. “Besides, it’s not like Gavin would ever notice anyone like me.”

Clint opened his mouth to say something, but I became distracted as the smell of cinnamon suddenly overpowered the barley scent of my beer, and I looked up in time to see Gavin headed past our table toward the bathrooms.

I dropped my napkin on the table and fell onto the bench, hiding my head beneath the table.

Reggie’s face appeared under the plastic tablecloth. “What the hell are you doing, El?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I lost my napkin.”

“It’s on the table.”

“Oh.”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I jumped, banging my head against the table. Pain shot through my skull, right behind my eyes.

Fuck.

I grabbed my head and straightened to see Gavin staring at me, his lips curved in a smirk.

Double fuck.

“Elise!” he said. “I thought that was you. Why were you on the floor?”

“I dropped my napkin,” I muttered.

Gavin pointed to the balled-up white paper resting beside my beer. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the folds had formed a smile, simply to mock me. “That napkin?”

“Oh! There it is!” I grabbed the paper and slithered deeper into the booth, willing the padded red leather to swallow me whole.

Veronica appeared at Gavin’s side and her dark eyes flashed when she saw who had diverted his attention from her. “What are
you
doing here?” Gavin frowned at her, and her face softened, the same as it had when she’d met him on set earlier. “I mean, it’s so nice to see you here, Elise. I’m just surprised. I thought you were more of a stay-in-and-watch-Netflix-on-a-Saturday kind of gal.”

“We came to celebrate my new job.” I touched my forehead and winced. It seemed like all of my scampering around under the table had reopened the cut from earlier. Oh, good. I was oozing blood in front of Gavin Hartley. Again. “Will you excuse me? I need to go clean up.”

I jumped out of the booth and pushed past Veronica and Gavin without a glance. When I got to the bathroom, I turned on the taps and sloshed water over my face, watching the blood swirl down the drain. The dizziness had passed now that I was no longer trapped in the confines of the tiny booth. I took a few deep breaths and grabbed a paper towel to press over the cut. The bandage hung in my hair and I grimaced as I pulled at it.

Reggie appeared in the mirror behind me. I jumped at her sudden manifestation by my side.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “More embarrassed than anything.”

“You like him.” Her eyes met mine in the glass. It wasn’t a question.

“Who? Clint? I told you he’s not my type. You should go for it if you want.”

And make me not regret turning him down.

Reggie shook her head. “I wasn’t talking about Clint. I meant Gavin.”

“Well, of course I like him. He’s a gorgeous movie star. I don’t know one girl who doesn’t have a crush on him.”

My roommate took my hand and turned me toward her. “This is different. More than a silly movie star crush. You really like him.”

“So what?” I tossed the bandage into the trash and tucked my hair behind my ear. “He was so sweet to me today and I wasn’t expecting that. But it doesn’t matter because someone like him . . . I wouldn’t stand a chance with someone like him. Look at me.”

“What’s your point?” Reggie asked. “Just because you have a stupid scar on your face? If you think your imperfections are what define you, you’re wrong. Look at me. I’m not exactly Heidi Klum. But I don’t give a crap. Anyone who judges me by my clothing size isn’t worth my time.”

She touched my face and I flinched.

“And anyone who judges you by this,” she said, “isn’t worth yours.”

The sincerity shone through her eyes and I surprised myself by pulling her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around me and held me tight.

“Thanks, Reggie,” I said into her thick mane. Vanilla shampoo wafted from her locks. “You’re a good friend.”

We parted and she held me by the shoulders and smiled. “I know. You’re lucky to have me. Now, come on, we left the thirsty cowboy alone. He’s probably polished off both of our drinks by now.”

I laughed and followed her out of the bathroom. As we headed to our table, I spotted Gavin and Veronica again. He steered her toward the exit with one hand pressed into the small of her back. She looked over her shoulder and our eyes locked. Then she broke my gaze and said something in Gavin’s ear. When he turned to reply, she wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him.

Just like that. There was no gazing into each other’s eyes, no hesitation before a first kiss. One moment they were individuals and the next they formed a solid mass. Gavin’s eyes widened and he bristled in surprise. He touched her shoulders as though to push her away, but the sudden flash of a hundred camera phones lit up the bar, and Gavin seemed to think better of rejecting a beautiful woman in public. He closed his eyes, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. I gave Reggie a pointed look that said
I told you so
, then studied the puke-stained floor, acid biting up my throat.

By the time the flashes died down and I looked up again, they were gone.

A
ny excitement I’d felt for the first day of filming had dissipated the moment I saw pictures of Veronica kissing Gavin all over the Internet the next day. Gossip sites teemed with stories about the kismet of the
Viking Moon
author dating the show’s star. It didn’t hurt that they were both totally gorgeous and easy to place on the cover of newspapers or Web pages.

I closed the news site on my phone and sighed as Veronica sauntered down her walkway to my car. My watch indicated we were already ten minutes late. Not that it was my fault.

I’d been sitting in front of Veronica’s house for half an hour, honking the horn and moaning in frustration when she’d respond to each blast by sticking her arm out the front door and giving me the finger. I finally realized her reaction was probably making her take longer, so I’d given up leaning on the horn and pulled out my phone instead.

Veronica got in the car and smiled at me as though she hadn’t spent the last half hour making obscene gestures in my direction.

“We’re late, thanks to you,” I snapped at her as she pulled the seat belt across her perky chest and buckled it.

“Who cares? These things are never on time anyway.”

“Because you’ve spent so much time on television sets?”

“No.” She pulled her sunglasses down her forehead to cover her eyes. “But everyone knows Hollywood is a lot of waiting around. You’ll see.”

Turned out, Veronica was wrong. As soon as we got to the set, an anxious assistant with a clipboard ushered us through the woods, a finger to her lips to tell us to keep quiet. When we broke into the clearing, I had to blink several times to make sure what I saw in front of me was real and not a product of my overactive imagination.

Camera tracks lined the grass, their heavy bases pressing the greenery into submission. I counted at least three cameras focused on the spot where the water met the sand. Stan sat in a chair marked
DIRECTOR
and his head bobbed between footage on a screen beside him and the action in front.

Gavin stood before the camera, sporting his customary pelts from the novels. The costume department had certainly made the most of his tightly honed body, leaving one shoulder bare and exposing half of his muscular chest. The absence of sleeves highlighted his toned shoulders and arms. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when they got to the winter scenes. The outfit wasn’t exactly suited for sword fights in snow. At least they’d given him boots.

His opponent, on the other hand, was covered almost head to foot in homemade armor. A silver plate hid the actor’s face as he pushed against Gavin. Their swords collided and the setting sun glistened off the blades. I shaded my eyes and cursed myself for losing my sunglasses in Boatgate the last time I was here.

The pair was locked in a perfect dance. Gavin threw off his attacker, the muscles in his back and arms straining with exertion. The attacker lunged again, his sword narrowly missing Gavin’s head by inches. I gasped and clapped my hand over my mouth. The same assistant from earlier snapped her head back at me and pressed her finger to her lips again. I mouthed an apology and returned my attention to the action.

Gavin had somehow found the way to perfectly embody Dag. His every move was precise and practiced. He stalked the attacker like a half-naked panther, his body hunched and his eyes never leaving the steel mask.

Veronica nudged my shoulder. “Isn’t he hot?”

The assistant appeared again with her finger on her mouth. Veronica mimicked her behind her back. I locked my jaw to contain my laughter.

By the time we returned our attention to the shore, the attacker had gotten the best of Gavin. He lay sprawled on the grass, his sword inches away. He reached for it and the attacker kicked it away with the toe of his heavy black boot. He placed his sword at Gavin’s throat, and Gavin raised his head. I already knew what he would say. After all, I’d written it, and read it more times than I could count.

“Wait,” Gavin/Dag said. “Before you kill me, can I at least see the face of my murderer? It seems the honorable thing to do.”

The attacker’s sword hovered over Gavin’s neck and the body stiffened beneath the armor. The silver-clad warrior reached up and pulled the mask and helmet off in one swoop.

Leila Clarke’s auburn hair fell down her back, blowing in the light breeze. Like Gavin, she had mastered her character. She
was
Thora as she scrutinized her prey; her green eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. Her jaw was set tight, and the muscles in the back of her neck clenched as she met the man who would become the love of her life.

Gavin’s eyes widened and his body jerked right on cue. “You’re a girl!”

“Woman,” Leila/Thora said, her sword so close to Gavin’s throat it might have drawn blood if it had been real. “The woman who’s going to kill you.”

Gavin chuckled. I clenched my hands at my side to stop myself from clapping and jumping up and down. I felt giddy, like a kid who’d walked downstairs and discovered Santa Claus shoving presents beneath the tree.

“It would be an honor to die at your hands,” Gavin said. “At least the last thing I’ll see will be pure beauty. The gods themselves couldn’t greet me with anything more stunning in the afterlife.”

Leila placed a boot on Gavin’s chest. “You talk too much for a dead boy.”

“And you hesitate too much for a killer.”

Gavin swept his arm up and revealed he’d managed to reach his sword while he’d distracted her. He heaved and she flew off his chest, landing on her back in the grass. Their positions were now reversed from only a few moments before, with Gavin holding his sword at her throat.

“Go ahead,” Leila said. “Kill me. My brothers will avenge my death.”

“You know,” Gavin said, kicking her sword out of her hand, “I meant what I said earlier about you being beautiful. There is too little beauty in this world. For now, I choose to let beauty survive.”

He held his sword to her neck as he bent over and picked up her weapon. Then he tossed it into the bushes behind him, off camera. A tech dived out of the way as the sword flew over his head.

Gavin turned and ran off, leaving the camera’s frame and a perplexed Leila behind. Her confusion quickly turned to anger as her eyes flashed and her jaw tightened. “You should have killed me!” she called to us over the camera. “You’ll regret it! You’ll see!”

The scene froze and the director got out of his chair, waving his arms and appearing to shout orders at whoever would listen.

Something smacked me on my bare arm.

“Ow!” I gently massaged the area, already stinging red. “What the hell was that for?”

Veronica didn’t bother with an apology. “You’ve been making this ridiculous high-pitched noise since the director yelled ‘Cut.’ I was worried you were going to attract dolphins or something.”

“There aren’t any dolphins near here. They live in the ocean.”

“Whatever. It was annoying, okay?”

The scowl disappeared from her face as she spotted something over my shoulder. I turned to find Gavin standing so close to me, one step would instantly close the gap between us. I reminded myself to breathe as I watched a bead of sweat drip from his neck down his bare shoulder, nestling into the thick fur of the pelt slung low around his hips. I’d never wanted to be a drop of sweat more in my life.

It took all my willpower to stop imagining where that drop went and focus, instead, on his lips.

“What did you think?” His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips and all reminders of breathing hopped on a train to God knows where.

I opened my mouth to tell him how perfect he’d been. How watching him swing his sword and tease Thora was like nothing my wildest dreams could conjure. Then I remembered. It wasn’t my validation he craved. I looked to Veronica and raised my eyebrows.

She scanned my face, as though my eyes or lips provided the answers she required. Finally, she broke into a grin. “Oh. My. God. That was wonderful! You were the perfect Dag!” Once again, a sweetness I rarely saw dripped off her as she slid a manicured finger up and down his bare arm. Oh, she was
good
. Jekyll and Hyde had nothing on this girl.

Gavin turned to me, all pearly white teeth and sweat.
You liked it, too?
he signed.

I swallowed and tried to recall if I’d eaten sandpaper for breakfast.

It was great. You were great.
Veronica pinched me from behind, obviously annoyed she wasn’t part of the conversation. I ignored her.
Not that my opinion matters. I’m just an assistant.

Your opinion matters to me
, Gavin signed.
Anyone who’s a fan of the series matters to me. I want this to be perfect.

It was
, I signed.
Trust me
.

My eyes met Gavin’s and the way he stared at me, I knew he could read my sincerity.

Your ASL’s gotten better
. I smiled.
You’re not moving as slow.

I’ve been practicing. For when I saw you again.

Heat licked through my body, gnashing at my skin. Gavin Hartley had anticipated seeing me again. This couldn’t be real.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” He started, jolting me from my thoughts. “I have something for you. I hoped I’d see you today. Hang on, it’s over on my chair.”

Veronica gave me a death stare that practically branded nasty words into my skin as Gavin wandered to a cloth-covered chair with his name embroidered on the back. I knew I should’ve felt rude, leaving her out of the conversation like that, but for once, I had something she didn’t. She’d just have to deal.

Gavin returned with a copy of
Carnivore’s Teeth
cradled under his forearm.

Lucky book.

“I found this in the sand after you got smacked by the boat the other day. I think it fell out of your bag. It’s definitely yours. It has your name in it.” He opened it to the title page, where my professor had signed. “I have to know, how the hell did you meet Duncan Creed?”

“He’s my American Lit professor.” I did a double take. “Wait.
You’re
a Duncan Creed fan?”

“Are you kidding? The man’s a genius.
Carnivore’s Teeth
changed my life. It kills me he hasn’t written anything since.”

I planted my hands at my sides so I wouldn’t lunge across the sand at him in excitement. “Me too! I adore that book! I mean, I know it’s technically about outer space, but it’s actually about so much
more
than that, you know?”

“Exactly. I swear I’ve read this book, like, twenty times and I still can’t figure it all out.” He handed the book back to me, and I held it against my chest. “I can’t believe you have him as a teacher. Where do you go?”

“Fernbrooke U,” I said. “I’d invite you to come to class, but I doubt we’d get any work done. I’d be too busy staring at you—er, I mean,
everyone
would be too busy staring at you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to do poorly in class because of me.”

“I’m pretty sure no one would do well that day.”

“Then I’ll try not to show up unexpected in any of your classes.”

We smiled at one another, the image of him attempting to take notes and have some semblance of being a normal student playing between us.

All of a sudden, Veronica stepped beside me, edging me away from Gavin with her shoulder. “Oh! I can’t believe how much we have in common!” she said. “I simply adore Douglas Creek. He’s one of the best writers out there. You know, besides me.”

She laughed, her fingernails grazing her chest in a way that drew every man’s eyes to their resting place.

Gavin laughed with her, apparently unaware that she’d screwed up Duncan Creed’s name. In fact, he seemed pretty unaware of anything but Veronica gliding toward him. She ran her fingers across his chest and smiled up at him. I gripped the book harder and turned away, choosing to allow the sun to blind me as opposed to enduring yet another of their PDA sessions.

Leila Clarke stepped in front of me and sneered at the couple. “Oh, there he goes again. Is she the new flavor of the week?”

“You don’t think they make an adorable couple? Everyone else does.”

She scrunched her face. “She’s exactly the same woman he dates over and over. Absolutely stunning and famous enough to keep his name in the press.”

The sun was relentless against my face. Heat brimmed in my cheeks and forehead. “He cares about that stuff?”

“Of course. He wouldn’t be Gavin Hartley if he didn’t.”

Well, there was my answer. I was right. Gavin would never want a girl like me. A girl who would be edited off magazine covers and who would rather pay someone to be her than live in the spotlight of her own fame.

“But you’re famous,” I said. “Don’t you care about that stuff, too?”

Leila shrugged. She’d removed the armor, and beneath it, she sported a deep red tank top and tight shorts. Every curve of her body was on display, and she had no reason to hide them. Like Gavin, her physique had been formed to fit the perfect Hollywood mold.

“I used to care,” she said. “I mean, I even dated Gavin for a while. You know, when we were both starting out.”