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The trust he placed in me even though I haven’t confided all to him, had my heart tumbling past the halfway in love mark. He gave me his ugly and twisted parts, and it’s time to give him mine.
My phone pings. I immediately reach for it, but the text on my screen is from the last person I expected.
Ben: Can we meet?
I stare at my screen. After all that’s gone down, now he wants to talk to me?
Me: My people have been trying to facilitate a conversation between us for over a month and you’ve been ignoring them. Talk to my agent.
Ben: I’m downstairs in the bar. Just a few minutes.
Me: How do you know where I’m staying?
Ben: Please come down.
I sigh. I don’t want to, but I also want to know what he’s up to. I want to know why he’s letting the world believe I’m a crazy stalker. And maybe I can find a way to reclaim my reputation too. I don’t answer him, but I get dressed. I resent him a little more for making me leave that comfy bed.
Fifteen minutes later, I enter the bar and find him sitting in a dark corner booth. I sit across from him; his eyes immediately take me in what seems to be part appreciation and part loathing. I do my best not to shrink back into the cushion, even though I want to be as far away from him as possible.
I hate that I trusted that he’d changed when we worked together a year ago. That I let myself believe the petty asshole he’d been years ago was only a bad phase influenced by drugs and fame. And I really hate that I let my guard down enough that this attack feels out of nowhere when I should have expected nothing less from him.
“You’re a brunette now.” He says it with a sneer, like I should be insulted.
“Yep. What do you want?”
He tilts his head. “So suspicious.”
“You know what’s suspicious? The fact that you’re not supporting my claims that these voicemails are from nine years ago and you’re willingly letting people believe I stalked you duringSnowed In.”
“How are things with the boyfriend?”
“Seriously? You’re just going to ignore me?”
“Or maybe I should call him your bodyguard.” A provoking smile forms on his lips.
What the hell is he up to? I don’t say anything this time. I’m not going to play into his hand. So, I wait.
He shifts, pissed I’m not taking the bait. He finally gives in. “We both know that story on how you met is bogus. You were single when we were filming.”
“What I know is I never propositioned you or left you voicemails while we were filmingSnowed In. Why did you even save those fromSunset Beach? Instead of being a decent boyfriend, you thought, I should keep these in case I want to humiliate Autumn one day. Who does that? Though I don’t know why I’m surprised. You weren’t a decent boyfriend for long.”
Again, he ignores me. “He seems to be enjoying the limelight. I heard about his screenplay.”
I flinch, but don’t say anything. What screenplay?
Ben’s eyes light up and I hate that he saw my shock.
“You’re telling me you didn’t know about his screenplay? He’s been talking to Ed about it.”
“How would you know if my boyfriend is talking to my agent?”
He shrugs. “I hear things.”
I roll my eyes. “AndI’mthe one being accused of being the stalker.”
He lets out a little laugh.
“Oh, you find that funny, huh?”
