Say It Sexy (8 page)

I breezed past him. “And what
you
need is a kick in the ass.”

“Only if you’re offering.” He dropped his arm and fell into step beside me.

I once again fought the urge to smile and increased my pace to a brisk walk, but I couldn’t shake him. “Do me a favor, and only speak when you have a line.”

He chuckled. “As you wish,
Lacey
.”

* * *

“Welcome back, everyone,” Lyle said, as we milled into the room after lunch.

I planted myself as far away from Garrick as I could.

“What was I going to say?” Lyle said under his breath, as if trying to remember something. “Oh! I had a thought while we were all on break. Lacey and Payton have their first kiss in the episode we’ll be reading next. I think it would be a good idea if we went ahead and inserted a real practice kiss where the script dictates to break the ice between our hero and heroine. Sound good?” His eyebrows waited expectantly, as his face volleyed between Garrick’s and mine.

I could have died. I’d just started finding myself drawn to Garrick in a way that had nothing to do with his good looks, and having to deal with that while at the same time having my mouth plastered against his truly frightened me.

Staring at Lyle as though he’d just announced the beginning of the apocalypse, I tried to piece together an excuse.
I just vomited in the bathroom. I’m still getting over mono. I have the zombie virus, and it’s only communicable through the lips.

“I think that’s a great idea, Lyle,” said the most irritable voice in the world. Garrick grinned from ear to ear, drumming his fingers on the table.

I pursed my lips, eyes wide in silent, internal shouting to ream him for his comment.

“Fantastic.” Lyle clapped once and rubbed his hands together.

“You know,” I said with a sunny smile, leaning forward. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We should probably build rapport with one another first before diving into the intimacy of our characters. Wouldn’t you agree, Lyle?”

“Well, I—”

Garrick interrupted Lyle’s forming thoughts. “Are you saying you don’t think you can handle a little improv?” he asked me. “Used to too much prep-work for those soaps?”

I gave him a wan smile. “Not at all. I just don’t want to rush into something we’re not prepared for, because some of us may not be able to handle it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle with you.”

Shane choked and pieces of cracker flew from his mouth to the table. “Sorry.”

“No need to be shy,” Lyle said, looking over at me. “After all, your chemistry will be a big part of this show, so you may as well start developing some.”

Oh, my God. I felt like the walls were closing in around me. There was nothing I could do. He was right. It was better to get this over with. “Very well,” I agreed. “If this is what the director wants, then of course, I’d be happy to oblige.”

For the next few minutes, we took turns rattling off lines around the table. I had read ahead, so I could know the precise moment the kiss was coming, and I was growing more and more apprehensive by the second. The last line lingered in the air like the poised blade of a guillotine. I kept my eyes glued to the paper.

“Well, come on now.” Lyle piped up, waving his hand around. “Let’s see it.”

It’s just acting.
This is professional
. I heard Garrick push his chair back, the wheels squeaking under his solidly muscular weight, and cross the carpeted floor. I did the same. We met at the opposite end of the table.

With a nod of acknowledgement, I sighed and took a moment to sink back into character.

LACEY: “
Are we finished here?”
I asked as Lacey, leveling him with a droll look.

PAYTON: “
Not quite. There’s just one more thing I’d like to do before we part ways
.” Garrick’s brown eyes zeroed in on mine.

LACEY: “
And what’s that
?” I crossed my arms, not even acting but purely on instinct.

Garrick’s arm shot out, coiled around my waist, and reeled me in like a fish on a line.

PAYTON: “
This
.” His lips found mine in a soft, deliberate kiss from which I couldn’t pull away.

I tried, for the sake of my pride and my character, to remain incensed, but his kiss began a thawing process within me, one completely against my own volition. In other words—it was just too good. My arms snaked around his neck. I felt his grip tighten on my waist, as he dipped me just enough so my hair slipped off my shoulder.

The Earth seemed to stop rotating, and everything around us fell away. For the first time in my career—even when I worked with Randall—I completely forgot I was in the middle of a scene and surrendered to the kiss solely for my own personal enjoyment. My heart pounded against my ribcage. My pulse felt like a living thing trapped inside my neck. The core of my body gravitated toward him.

I would never forget this moment.

Someone whistled.

My eyelids fluttered open, and we broke apart.
What on Earth was that all about?
I tried to conceal my shock, but the whirlwind tore through me, dispersing my attempts. Surely I had imagined it—the fireworks, the chemistry Lyle was talking about, the pounding of my heart.

We stared at one another incredulously, though I couldn’t tell if Garrick was displeased or trying to reevaluate his feelings for me. We both cleared our throats, and, having trouble keeping eye contact, we headed back to our seats.

Whatever that feeling was, I needed to lock it in a chest and bury it somewhere. I could not allow myself to feel anything other than duty and work ethic whenever I had to kiss Garrick—
Payton
—again.

The room was quiet when we reclaimed our seats. Lyle spoke first. “Well…no doubt you two have chemistry.” He raised his eyebrows and actually wiggled them. “Can’t wait to see how audiences react.”

Yes, it would be interesting. How
would
audiences react? Considering, that for one brief moment, I went to Cloud 9 and traveled back.

* * *

In my father’s car on the way home, I typed Garrick Maze into the Google search engine and waited. I’d done it before. Before I’d ever known he’d be playing opposite me. Before I’d ever met him. Skimming the various official and fan-administered websites in his honor, I switched to images. Taking in the wide array of shots for everything from magazines to bio pics, my heart pounded at his sheer, action-hero ruggedness. After several rows of headshots, the unofficial pics of the Internet began to scroll through my phone, and I forced myself to take in all the photos posted of Garrick with other girls.

Young girls, older girls, short girls, tall girls, plain girls, hot girls. Modest girls. Skanky girls. Kissing. Holding hands. Hugging. Toasting shots. Taking selfies. Duck-facing. Sunbathing at the pool. Attending parties and premieres.

“Garrick Maze, you are a manwhore of the highest order.” I tried to say it with a sneer, but instead it came out a sigh. I’d known he was womanizer, but now that I’d met him, I felt a jealousy and a pain at the knowledge that I hadn’t felt before.

It was pathetic really.

But it was also just the thing I needed to strengthen my resolve to maintain my distance from him, which had weakened quite a bit with the kiss we’d shared.

“You said something, miss?” Thomas’s smiling eyes appeared in the rearview mirror.

“No, nothing. Sorry.” Repulsed, I closed the browser window and shoved my phone back into my purse, preferring to press my nose against the window, watching Century City slide by.

There’s no way I’m joining the ranks of that census, I thought. No way. This is one girl he won’t have.

Garrick

“Good morning, Miss Vickers.” Moseying down the airplane aisle, I hurled my most dashing grin at Gwen, already seated on my left, thumbing through her phone. She smiled tightly and nodded, but didn’t remove the purse she’d placed onto the seat beside her.

As tempted as I was to take the seat anyway, I didn’t. She looked stressed and tired, and the truth was I was feeling the same. Over the past week, I’d already been thinking way too much about Gwen, and those thoughts had even started to infiltrate my dreams. Now that we were headed to New Mexico to begin filming, I needed to get my shit together, and that meant giving myself some distance, preferably in the back of the plane where I couldn’t even see her.

Passing a slew of cameramen, technical team members, makeup artists, and costume committee, I found Tyler hunkered down in a window seat near the back of the plane with his eyes closed. The two seats beside him were empty. Shane sat in the row just diagonal of Tyler’s, his attention fixated out the window.

“Hey, man,” I said, shoving my suitcase into the empty overhead compartment and making a curious gesture at the aisle seat. “This taken?”

“Hm?” Shane, shaken awake, blinked rapidly, his eyes darting from me to the empty seat. “No, dude. Go for it,” he offered.

“Sweet.” I plopped down into the seat, sinking low. “You seemed distracted. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

Shane shrugged, struggling to smile. “I guess so,” he said, his voice almost lost in the hum of engines as the plane rumbled to life.

I didn’t always become buddy-buddy with other male leads, due to jealousy issues, but I was hoping it might be different with Shane. He was untainted by the Hollywood scene, still possessing humility and an air of innocence amid a depraved and carnivorous, materialistic world. I hoped he’d never lose it.

Aside from that, there was something about him that I had trouble placing. May have been the effortless way he slumped back, or the hoodie he wore, or the sweats that hung strangely low for a jock dude. Whatever the case, I got a feeling he was harboring a secret side of himself. When he shifted, I could’ve sworn I caught the telling hole of a piercing on his eyebrow.

“You nervous?” I asked.

Shane winced. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, I didn’t need to consult a specialist to diagnose you.” I eyed him expectantly. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Shane muttered, shaking his head and redirecting his attention back to the window. “It’s stupid.”

I thumped his shoulder with my own. “You can tell me, dude.”

With a halfhearted roll of his eyes, Shane caved. “I just can’t get what Gwen said out of my head.”

“What? About you having no experience?” I slouched back in my seat, casting a quick glance at Her Royal Iceness. She’d stood in the aisle now, giggling with Erica while they tried to jam her lumpy blue duffel bag into the overhead compartment. “You’re right—it’s stupid.”

“I’m serious.” Shane shrugged. “What if she’s right? What if my inexperience does jeopardize the show’s success? What if I’m a flat-out terrible actor and what got me hired was all a onetime fluke?”

“That’s a load of crap,” I said, splaying my hand to emphasize my point. “Lots of first-time actors kill it when they break out of the gate. You will, too. Everyone has to start somewhere.”

Shane rubbed the back of his neck, less than convinced. “What if Lyle regrets hiring me?”

Just then, speak of the devil, Lyle came careening onboard, frazzled and looking more scatterbrained than usual. Chest heaving and brow glowing with sweat, he lumbered to a row occupied by two camera operators. “So sorry, so very sorry I’m late. Forgot to book my seat. Had to get one at check-in, which meant facing the Sunday crowd.”

Shane lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning across the empty seat separating us. “I feel like an ass for saying this, but he seems a bit incapable. Is it just me?”

“Nah, don’t let that fool you. His brain is ninety-nine percent creativity and one percent logic. The man’s a genius. Lots of geniuses have organization issues. In fact, I heard they’re hiring him a personal assistant without his approval.”

“You’ve worked with him before?”

“Several times. And as for him regretting hiring you, that won’t happen, as long as you push yourself and try your best.” Thumbing toward Tyler, I added, “Besides, whiz-kid over there stuck his nose out for you too, so he probably sees something in you that you’re not aware of.”

“Or maybe I like playing devil’s advocate,” Tyler supplied in his gloomy monotone, eyes still closed.

Shane grinned, obviously feeling better after our talk. “Thanks, man. Hey, do you know where we’re staying?”

“Last I heard, we were booked into a hotel called Nativo Lodge, but knowing Lyle, plans may have changed, and he forgot to send the memo.” I laughed. “Don’t sweat it. My one condition when I signed with Lyle was I stay in close proximity to a gym.”

Gwen and Erica had finally squeezed the bag into place and managed to close the compartment door. They sat together, chatting in the coquettish way girls did. “So. What do you think of her?”

“Who?” Shane propped himself up higher to see over the seats. “Erica?”