Page 118 of PR Stunt

Suitcase open. Clothes half-packed. His expression shifts instantly, the air between us turning sharp.

“Is everything okay, Charlie?” His voice is edged with confusion.

I grip my phone tighter, my nails digging into the case. My throat is dry. I move past him, avoiding eye contact as I step into the bathroom to collect my things. Keep moving. Don’t think. Just go.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say, my voice too even. “I got an opportunity lined up and need to head home.”

I lean down, grabbing the still-damp set from last night, my jaw clenching so hard it aches. This is going straight in the trash when I get home. He hasn’t moved. Still frozen in the bathroom doorway, eyes tracking every motion like he’s trying to put the pieces together. How would I not eventually find out? He probably left someone tangled in his sheets before boarding that plane, and I was simply what was available on vacation.

I force myself to walk back out, past him, past the weight of his stare, and drop the rest of my belongings into my suitcase.

“Can it be pushed? It’s our last day. I thought we could—”

“Nope. Can’t,” I cut him off, zipping my suitcase with a sharp tug. “Unlike you, I can’t charm my way into work. I actually have to consistently show up.”

His jaw tightens. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes scan my face, searching. “You expect me to buy that? After last night—”

I motion between us, my expression set. “It’s PR. Nothing more, obviously.”

He opens his mouth, but something in my face must stop him, because he slams it shut, his gaze pinning me in place. I don’t give myself time to waver. Spinning on my heels, I grab my suitcase and pull it toward the door, yanking it open.

“Charlie.” His voice cuts through me.

I swallow against the thump in my throat, willing my expression to stay unreadable. “I’ll see you at the Blackout premiere,” I say, shutting the hotel door.

The taxi ride to the airport is a blur. Hailey was able to get me on a last-minute flight home.

I slump into my first-class seat and slide my headphones on. I should have known better. This temporary truce was never real, at least not in the way I let myself believe. He was a performance, a perfectly crafted illusion, and somehow I still fell for it.

Had I really convinced myself that the touches, the glances, the quiet moments between us meant something more? Something outside the script?

But this is what he does, isn’t it? He acts. He knows exactly how to look at someone, how to say just enough, how to make something feel real even when it isn’t. Apparently well enough to keep doing it when no one else is watching.

I squeeze my eyes shut and press my head back against the seat. It shouldn’t hurt this much. I shouldn’t feel this stupid. But I do. Because some reckless part of me actually believed someone like him could want someone like me. Not the headline version. Not the polished one. Me, when I’m difficult, moody, guarded, soft.

I turn the volume up, drowning out everything.

Chapter 36

“Stop tensing your jaw.” Luca’s voice is light, but his sharp eyes catch everything.

I force my muscles to relax. “I’m not.”

“You are.” He cocks his head, blending out the last bit of contour. “And you’ve been doing it all week.”

I exhale, tilting my head back slightly. “Luca, I’ve been moving at full speed since I got back. Trust me, if there were room for anything else, I’d know.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t look convinced. “You sure it’s just stress?”

The hotel suite is quiet except for the brush of makeup against my skin and the occasional soft click of Luca’s products on the vanity. Outside the windows, the city buzzes, but in here, everything is still. Controlled. That’s the key, isn’t it? Control. It has been a week since Mexico. Seven full days—168 hours of perfectly scheduled, highly productive distractions. I’ve packed my days so tight that there hasn’t been a second to think about… Do not finish that thought.

Instead, I’ve filled it with what I do best. Work. Meetings. Press junkets. Back-to-back workouts. I even agreed to a YouTube q&a while eating stupidly hot wings that I would’ve normally put off for months. Anna and Juno have both drilled me on why I cut the trip short. I told them I ate something weird and started feeling off, blamed it on a sketchy ceviche or too much sun. Juno didn’t buy it for a second, but she let it slide—for now, anyway. Anna didn’t push either. The exposure turned out great, with the headline of the article reading: Waves Weren’t the Only Thing Making a Splash: Charlie & Grayson’s Sayulita Sizzle. So, in her mind, the trip still delivered.

It’s everywhere. On every feed, in every recap. Grayson has called. Texted. More than once. But I haven’t responded, and soon it will all be over.