Flirting With Fame (Flirting With Fame) (16 page)

She touched my wrist to get my attention. “He’s still an asshole, Elise. I mean, who cares if you have scars? Last night, don’t you think I was terrified when Clint took off my clothes? I begged him to turn off the light. Instead, he made sure to kiss every inch and tell me I was beautiful. El, that’s a lot of inches!”

“But you
are
beautiful,” I said.

“So are you. And any guy who can’t see that is an idiot. If you won’t quit your job, can I at least kick his ass?”

I laughed and shook my head. “No. It’s fine. Though it’s gonna be so awkward having to face him on Monday.”

Her fingers tightened around my wrist. “Aubrey will be with you. Maybe she can kick his ass.”

“I highly doubt it. She’d probably tell me it was my fault.”

“Well, she’s a bitch, El.”

“I thought you said she was just socially awkward.”

“I was in denial. I know a bitch when I see one.” Reggie sighed. “It breaks my heart, of course. I love her books so much, and I wanted to love her, too. But I’ve seen the way she talks to you, and you don’t deserve that. Friends come first. Hos before . . . authors . . . or something like that. Besides, I don’t need to like her to like her books. I can just pretend someone else wrote them.”

I bit my lip. There it was. My opening to tell Reggie the truth about who I was. But then Tanner’s face flashed through my head, and the look he got when he saw what I really was underneath. No, the truth just made things worse.

“I wish you’d come and told me after it happened,” Reggie continued. “We could’ve gone home. You didn’t need to flush him out of your system with booze.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s not something I usually do. And based on the way my head is screaming at me right now, it’s not something I’ll do again soon.”

“Good.” Reggie rested her head on my shoulder and her hair tickled my cheek.

“Thanks for forgiving me. I’m really sorry.”

She peeked up at me. “I know. Now, can we finally talk about how delectable Gavin Hartley looked last night? I mean, come on. His rocker pirate look put Johnny Depp to shame.”

I settled against the wall, the tension of the night seeping out of my shoulders. “Well, I don’t know about that, but he did look good in that unbuttoned shirt. Those abs could be considered a national treasure.”

“And his eyes! With the guyliner? How do some men look better in eye makeup than me? It’s not fair!”

We burst into giggles, leaning on each other and discussing which actors looked the best in their costumes. We were still laughing when the scent of greasy food wafted in from down the hall, indicating that our lunch had arrived.

O
ctober crashed into November with the fury of a thousand pissed-off Greek gods. The thunderstorms canceled any hope of filming the show, so I spent the rest of the weekend huddled in my room, laptop on my knees, staring at my still unfinished first draft of the new book. For some reason, I was having a harder time than ever slipping into Dag’s and Thora’s skins. It had been so easy for the first three books, but they seemed like strangers to me now. I wasn’t sure if it was because every time I imagined Dag, Gavin’s face would dominate my mind, or if it was plain old writer’s block.

I set my computer aside and picked up the script for the show. Stan had asked Veronica to go over the second half and make notes if anything seemed off. I worked away on the pages, crossing out anything that seemed out of character and adding words or phrases to mold the characters as I saw them.

Reggie had spent all weekend with Clint, shooting me the odd text to tell me how “freaking amazing” he was or reminding me to eat.

I awoke Monday morning to the sun streaming through the blinds and hitting me right in the eyes. I tried on numerous “what doesn’t make me look like the slut who almost slept with an actor she barely knew then woke up in some other actor’s room” outfits. I finally settled on a pink sweater my grandmother had knitted for me two Christmases before and a pair of black leggings with boots.

Two days of rain had made a mess of the campus and my feet sank into the muddy path as I trudged to American Lit. By the time I arrived, my thighs ached from the sheer exertion of constantly prying my boots out of the muck. I rubbed my legs as I took my seat and yawned.

Clint flopped into the seat beside me, bags beneath his eyes and a giant smile plastered across his face. It looked like he thought Reggie was “freaking amazing,” too. I clucked my tongue at him, and we both burst into giggles.

I hadn’t slept well since the party, my mind raging between Tanner’s heated advance—and equally hasty retreat—and Gavin’s bedroom. The fact that I’d have to face both of them in just a few hours weighed on my mind and, as the lecture started, I’d never been so grateful for my dictation app. I let it learn whatever lesson was being taught and navigated Facebook on my laptop.

A message popped up on my screen about halfway through class.

JIN:
Ellie-Bellie! Only a few weeks till Thanksgiving! I’m flying back on the Wednesday night! Wanna come pick me up at the airport? I have a surprise for you!

A glance at the front of the room told me Professor Creed was still absorbed in his lesson plan. I hit Reply and told Jin to name the time and I’d be there. I wondered what the surprise was all about. A million ideas floated through my mind, including the theory that maybe he was moving back. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I considered the possibility.

When class ended, I shimmied out of the row and bolted for the door, but as I was about to cross the threshold someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned to find Professor Creed peering down at me over his glasses. “Elise, I wanted to speak with you about your essay.”

I cringed as I remembered the paper he’d returned to me during class. I’d tossed it in my bag without even looking at the grade. The amount of red ink seeping through the cover page was enough to tell me what I really didn’t want to know.

“I’m sorry, Professor Creed.”

“Duncan.”

“Right. I’m sorry, Duncan. I’ve been busy and not sleeping well, but I promise I’ll work harder.”

“That essay was really not up to the standard you set for yourself at the beginning of the year,” he said. “You’ve proven to me you’re a talented writer. Don’t let other activities get in the way of that. With your grades from previous papers, you can still get a decent mark in this class if you work hard and ace the final essay.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good. See you next week.”

“Sure. Thank you, Professor—er—Duncan.”

I bolted up the stairs and found Clint propped against the wall, his nose in a book.

I laughed when the light hit the cover. “Is that
Viking Moon
?”

“Yup. Regina gave me the copy she loaned to you. Said you were takin’ too long.”

“I thought you said it sounded stupid.”

His cheeks turned a flattering pink. “Well, what can I say? I like Regina a whole bunch and this is her favorite thing in the world. Besides, it ain’t half bad. Still could use a duel or two, but it’s decent.”

“Maybe there’s hope for you yet, cowboy.”

•   •   •

Veronica slammed the car door so hard, the entire vehicle vibrated around me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “I mean, besides the usual.”

She pulled her knees to her chest and planted her feet against the dashboard. I almost did a double take when I saw that she wore jeans. I didn’t think she even owned a pair of those. Perhaps pretending to be me had finally gotten to her.

“Fucking Gavin Hartley.”

“Yes, we all know you’re fucking him.” I grimaced. “Glad we got that cleared up.”

“No.” She turned to the window and the glass fogged up as she continued to speak.

I touched her shoulder. “I didn’t quite get that.”

She rounded on me and swatted my hand away. “He fucking dumped me, okay?”

Even without physically hearing them, I could see by the way she spit out the words that they were coated in anger. “Wha— Why would he do that?”

“How should I know? I mean, he said something about our relationship only being superficial and he didn’t want to be with me since he didn’t feel anything for me.”

I’d never seen her like this. Her hands gripped the handles of her designer purse so tight, I wondered if she would draw blood from her palms.

Her words bounced through my brain. Something about them seemed familiar. Like a smell that suddenly triggers a childhood memory. Leila once mentioned something about Gavin dating girls for the press, but that wasn’t it. I started the car as the thoughts tugged at my brain, struggling to reveal what lurked beneath my skull.

“I’m so sorry, Veronica,” I lied. “I really thought you two were a good match.”

“Whatever. Just shut up and drive.”

Rush hour in Fernbrooke wasn’t like rush hour in the places I’d seen on television. Three cars occupied the road ahead of me, and one or two passed us going the other direction as we headed toward the lake.

I gnawed on my lip as I focused on Veronica’s words. Gavin dumped her. Something made him realize he didn’t want the type of relationship he had with her.

Or someone?

Shit.

I slammed the brakes as a light winked from yellow to red and gasped as my seat belt cut into my ribs.

Veronica slapped my arm. “Elise! What the hell?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t see it change.”

As I waited for the light to turn back to green, I fumbled through memories of the night of the party. It was me who’d told Gavin he shouldn’t be with Veronica.

Right before I’d passed out in his bed.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.

I should’ve stopped, let Veronica out, then driven myself right into the lake. It would’ve been easier than facing Gavin again. Or having Veronica find out I was the reason for her misery.

I resisted the urge to sink my car into oblivion and instead turned into the parking lot. Veronica stomped all the way to the set and I lingered behind her, keeping my head down and my eyes focused on the ground.

They were recording another night scene, and the beach was lit with several fluorescent lights to mimic the effect of the moon. When we reached the spot they’d set up for filming that night, I risked a glance around. Leila was the focus of this scene. She stood in front of the camera, hair braided down her back, studying a map.

I exhaled when I realized Tanner and Gavin weren’t going to be called until later. Veronica found an empty chair and slumped in it, for once actually looking at her script and pretending to do what I’d hired her for.

A warm hand slipped into mine and tugged me from the beach. I followed the hand with my eyes, up a well-defined arm, to an even better-defined shoulder, over a muscular neck, and right into the face of Gavin Hartley. He placed a finger to his lips.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer till we cleared the trees and stood alone beside his trailer. He opened the tiny door with the name
DAG
on the front.

I shook my head. “I’m not going in there till you tell me what this is about.”

His body deflated with a sigh. “I just wanted to talk to you. Aubrey isn’t happy with me right now, and I figured it’d be easier if I could get you away from her. Also, I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

He disappeared into the trailer. I tapped my foot against the pavement as I waited. When I started to think he assumed I’d just follow him inside, he emerged with a bag bearing the logo of the hotel from the party.

“Here are your clothes,” he said.

“
You
have them?” I snatched the bag and peered inside. My slutty skirt and blouse lay folded and pressed. The torturous shoes sat on top of them. I looked back up at him.

“I had the hotel wash them for you,” Gavin said. “You kind of threw up all over them. The concierge dropped them off in the morning, but I guess you didn’t see them outside the door when you left.”

No. I didn’t. I was too busy bolting down the stairs in bare feet and a robe.

“You’re the one who took off my clothes?” My grip tightened around the bag and I hugged it to my stomach, as though it might block the memory of what he’d seen there.

“I had to,” he said. “I couldn’t let you sleep like that. Housekeeping had to clean the rug you ruined. I think that’s going on my bill.”

I eyed the bag and wondered if it was big enough for my head. I could live like that. A bag forever pasted over my face. Cut a couple eyeholes and a nose hole and I’d be fine. Actually, screw that. I didn’t need to see or breathe ever again.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I’m so sorry. I can pay the bill, if you like.”

“You also threw up in the closet. All over my Louis Vuitton shoes.”

“I can pay for those, too.”

He chuckled. “They cost ten thousand dollars.”

I choked out a gasp of surprise. My mind whirled to my depleting bank account, soon to be tapped further by Veronica’s final payment.

“They make shoes that cost that much?”

“Relax,” he said. “They were given to me to wear to last year’s Oscars. I didn’t actually pay anything for them.”

“Okay.” I chewed the word, trying to make something more out of it, but my head kept replaying the memory of me throwing up in a closet and having one of the world’s most popular movie stars discover it.

I really should’ve driven into the lake.

“Well, thank you,” I finally managed. “Again, I’m sorry. Those words seem to be my mantra since the party. I’m really bad at this drinking thing, huh?”

“It’s fine in moderation, but you weren’t moderating by a long shot.” He switched to signing.
Are you . . . are you okay?

He touched my hair and wrapped a straw-colored lock around his finger. Using it like a lure, he moved closer to me with each twirl.

You broke up with Aubrey.

He stopped.
Yes.

Was it because of me? Because of what I said? I was drunk. I had no right to say those things.

It was only partly what you said
.
Mostly it was because of you.

I’m sorry
, I signed.
I had no right to say any of that.

No, I’m glad you did. You were right. She wasn’t what I’ve been looking for.

He was so close I could smell the minty toothpaste scent wafting through his lips.

“Oh.” I swallowed. “And what have you been looking for?”

You.

There was no time for me to think. No time for me to tell him he was making a big mistake and I wasn’t who he thought I was. There was no time to say no.

Because there, on the side of Honeycomb Lake, by the light of only his trailer, Gavin Hartley kissed me.