1
Alexander
“Alexander!Alexander,overhere!”I look toward the man calling to me, my biggest Hollywood smile on my face. This isn’t my favorite part of my life, but it’s necessary, and I don’t usually mind it. Still, my smile isn’t one hundred percent genuine.
“What can you tell us about the rumors we’re hearing that you proposed?”
Well, this is new. I guess I have my agent to thank for this. Or my girlfriend’s agent. Either way, there isn’t one ounce of truth to them; our romantic relationship isn’t even real. Our agents put our relationship together to help create interest and drive our careers even further. I only agreed because I hoped it would help with women throwing themselves at me. It hasn’t. Andalso, because Grey Blankenship is a genuinely great person, and I thought … who better to be forced to hang around with?
She’s become one of my closest friends, so, ultimately, it’s worked out. We have a lot of fun. But romantic interest? No. She’s actually seeing someone from her hometown. Nearly got caught snogging him behind the Ferris wheel at their county fair. I keep telling her she needs to try harder to be discreet. And as for me? She just isn’t my type. While I wouldn’t say straightlaced and mild is my type, Grey falls on the far other side of the spectrum. I think I’d prefer a woman somewhere in the middle.
But for friendship, Grey is great.
“We’ll never tell.” She comes up and grabs my arm, answering the reporter. She smiles effortlessly, completely in her element.
We make our way down the red carpet together until Grey answers the call of her adoring fans. I walk toward the shadows. I’ve done enough obligatory posing, smiling, and waving, so I opt to try to fade into the background. It isn’t long, however, until I’m approached by my co-star, Crescent Wright. I have grown increasingly tired of her and her efforts to seduce me. I will never do another movie with her.
Now I regret my choice to leave Grey’s side.
I generally like my movie premieres, as long as I can get away from the chaos of the red carpet as quickly as possible, butCrescent made me dread this one.
“I can’t believe we’re finally here. I’m so excited,” Crescent says, threading her arm through mine.
Not wishing to make a scene, I let her stand there, clinging to me. “Yes. The film is going to be lovely.”
“Yes. The film is going to be lovely,” she parrots back at me in a truly terrible imitation of my English accent. It was one of the many ways she annoyed me during filmingThe Mark of Everloreand the entire press junket. She laughs as if she were the most charming and clever girl to ever grace the earth. “It is, isn’t it? You know what scene I can’t wait to see on the big screen?”
Our kiss. She can’t wait to see our kiss. I feel my stomach turn and have to school my features in order not to give the cameras a truly terrible photo for the world to dissect. That scene was, by far, the hardest scene I’ve ever had to film, and not because we filmed it in a tiny, damp cave.
When I don’t answer, she continues. “Our kiss. I think the magic and chemistry will jump off the screen. Don’t you?”
I’m hoping I’m a good enough actor that mydiscomfortdoesn’t jump off the screen. I’m certainly tapping into my acting skills right now with dozens of cameras pointed in our direction.
As it turns out, Crescent is right. Our kiss is captivating. At least, that’s what I hear—and what I can attest to based on the first three seconds I saw before training my eyes on the bottom-left corner of the screen. I take a bite of shrimp and immediately regret it. Seafood and the memory of that scene aren’t an ideal combination.
The afterparty is something I would legitimately enjoy, but yet again, Crescent is there to do what Crescent does. She’s glued herself to my side. I look down to where she stands, pressed against me, and take a subtle step away. She is absorbed in conversation, so I assume she won’t notice. But she does and steps close once more. Why do I have to be so nice? Strike that. I’m not really nice to her anymore. The better question is, why do I not tell her once and for all how obnoxious she is and that I want her to stay away from me?
Because my mother would roll over in her grave, that’s why.
“I’m afraid I need to steal this guy,” Grey says as she walks up and pulls me from Crescent’s side, not giving her a chance to respond.
“Where have you been?” I complain as we head toward the drinks.
“I was on the phone with Conner.” She smiles at the mention of her high school sweetheart. “And don’t fuss at me; you could have left Crescent at any point.”
I sigh. “I know. I can usually get away with subtle hints, ormaneuvers to get my message across, but with her … I don’t know. Nothing ever works, and at this point, I just have to make it to the end of the party, and I’ll never need to see her again.”
“You are too nice.”
“You would have made her cry on several occasions by now.”
“Yes. And I would not still be dealing with”—she waves her hand in Crescent’s general direction—“all of that.”
“Yeah, yeah, o’ wise one.”
“Now kiss my cheek and tell me how beautiful I am.” Grey bats her eyelashes at me and grins.
“I don’t think I will.”
