Page 35 of Shatter

This could be fun!

"I've bought you guys some time with your parents," Harrison says to me. "... and your agent, but we need a solution."

Parker looks between Harrison, Marco, and me, but none of us speak. How would we handle this if we were in charge?

"We need to make a statement," I say lamely. Except, I'm in Bali. Allegedly. Maybe we can use a green screen. Or a blank wall in Harrison's apartment. "Something about how we're happy for each other. That we were better friends than lovers, maybe? Ugh, but that will open up the story to gossip that one of us was bad in bed. Scratch that."

"Can't we just admit the truth?" Parker asks, somewhat naively.

I shake my head. "No, it would make our fans feel betrayed. They've been shipping Melarker for almost ten years now."

"Melarker?" Harrison asks.

"Our couple name. A mash of Melody and Parker. It's stupid, but it's something our agent started spreading when we were teens, and the public picked it up."

Harrison's jaw tenses. God, he's handsome. Wide, square jaw, straight nose, full lips. Lips I want to kiss. Focus!

I shake away my intrusive thoughts.

"We're all running on very little sleep. I say we let Parker and Marco go home, take naps, we all sleep on it tonight, and tomorrow we can have a meeting and hash out some ideas," Harrison says, after a long silence.

We all nod, and I cover a yawn with my hand. He's not wrong. Parker and I got maybe all of four hours of sleep?

An hour later, I'm hugging Parker and Marco goodbye, sad to see them leave, but excited that they get to start a real relationship together, whatever that looks like for them.

Chapter nineteen

Harrison

We have a few hours to kill before we go to The Envelope, so I flick on the TV before sitting on the couch and kicking my feet up on the coffee table.

"What do you want to watch?" I ask Mel, assuming she'll sit next to me on the couch, but once again, this woman surprises me.

Instead of sitting next to me, she saunters up to the couch and straddles me. My hands instinctively fall to her hips.

Her hands wrap around the back of my neck and thread through the short hair there, dragging her nails against my scalp. I shiver, even as my cock thickens.

Her grin is salacious as she drags her hand down my chest and abs.

"I never did get to thank you for everything..." she says, her voice laced with sex.

I grab her hand to stop her.

I don't know what this is with her yet, but I don't feel good about touching her this way.

"No," I bark before I'm able to put into words what I'm feeling. Her grin falls.

I shake my head, gripping her chin with my hand so she can't retreat from me.

"I think you've used your body transactionally enough. I don't want to be just another man who uses you."

Her frown transforms into confusion.

"Are you calling me a prostitute?!"

I shake my head again, a grin tugging at my lips. "No. Of course not." She pushes at my chest and tries to get off me, but I hold her in place by her hips.

"You get paid to act. You get paid to perform, body, mind, voice, all of it. I don't want that to be this." I shake my head in frustration again. I'm not a good conversationalist. I'm the quiet one of our group. I usually can get my point across with as few words as possible. But this infuriating woman on my lap scrambles all of that.