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HAYDEN: He can’t be that good looking. Can he?
AUSTIN: Searching the web for a good photo.
HAYDEN: No need. I have his Insta profile pulled up on my laptop right now. He’s handsome but not really my type.
AUSTIN: I didn’t realize you had a type.
HAYDEN: Bitch. You know I’m selective.
AUSTIN: Selective? That’s not how I would classify your dating status. More like … picky. As in you pick them apart and find reasons why they’re not good enough for a second date.
HAYDEN: At least I’m trying. When was the last time you let someone clean out the bats in your cave? We’re in our prime and you’re already acting like a bitter, old woman.
HAYDEN: Austin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I know you’re busy and dating is the last thing on your mind.
HAYDEN: Call me later.
Damn it. I hope they talked it out. I hate when their conversations turn abrasive like that. Someone always says something to hurt the other person in an attempt to avoid the finger being pointed in their direction. I can usually calm them down or at least steer the conversation in a different direction before feelings turn bitter.
ME: Bitches, I’m at work for another long-as-fuck day but I do like the idea of you guys visiting soon. You have to kiss and makeup first or neither of you get to tour the studio set.
As I hit send, I glance up to see Eli walking through the large garage doors. I take that back. He’s not walking, that word does what he’s doing no justice. He’s sauntering in, head held high, hips swaying slightly. The way he presents himself demands attention and he’s getting it from every female in the room.
Including yours truly.
Opening my camera, I quickly snap a pic and send it off to the girls as encouragement. He’s not shirtless like they requested but he still looks hot. I’m sure my phone will be blowing up in the next few hours with comments about the crappy photo and apologies. At least, let’s hope so.
Eli and Steve exchange pleasantries, Steve talking animatedly with his hands. Once Eli walks off toward hair and makeup, I approach Steve with caution. His hot tempter is not a new revelation, but having it pointed at me for being less than five minutes late this morning was not pleasant. I’d rather not have a repeat of that interaction.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in my car, headed to get him another coffee, accompanied by a long list of errands to run after I drive back to the studio to drop it off. The joys of being a PA in Hollywood. You’re basically an errand bitch sometimes.
The only bright light in my morning is I can pick myself up another coffee and I get a break from Eli’s presence.
Not to mention, I know what’s on the shoot list for today. Two intimate scenes between him and Celia. Not something I need to see. Shirtless he has a dumbing effect on me. Austin was right. His good looks can make even the smartest girls act stupid.
Like trip and fall on top of him.
Knee him in the balls.
Stare without abandon.
I can only imagine how spaced out I’ll be if I know he’s practically naked only feet away from me.
The thought smacks me across the face as I pull into the coffee shop. There’s no denying Eli is attractive. You’d have to be blind not to notice. Somewhere in the last twenty-four hours since first meeting him, I’ve developed a little crush on him. Austin and Hayden planted the seed, and I’m watering it.
Every time I see him, the feelings intensify.
The tabloids make him out to be a player. Manwhore. However you want to look at it. But I’ve learned not to believe everything I read. Especially what’s printed in those magazines. So, I have to question how much truth there really is in those articles?
Because if there’s none, I’m screwed.
Which makes me wish he were an asshole. Rude or conceded. Why can’t he be more like Celia? He’d be easy to hate no matter how easy on the eyes he is.
Or, at the very least, I’d stop tripping over my own two feet and falling at his.
