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Blowing out a breath, I exit my car as pounding music greets me from inside my house. God knows what’s going on inside. I love Lilah, but if she’s having a party, we’re gonna have to talk. My call time tomorrow is five in the morning, and since this is a physical role, damn if I’ll be entertaining any time soon.
I open the door, shocked my place isn’t crawling with leeches, a.k.a. Lilah’s friends. After dropping my keys on the front table, I walk farther inside the house. Discarded beer bottles and glasses litter the coffee and end tables. I glance at the kitchen from the living room and find half-drunk bottles of booze that weren’t there when I left.
She’s probably passed out already.
I’m about to head for the bedrooms when movement on the patio catches my eye.
Lilah pulls herself out of the pool, wearing a skimpy bikini—the black one from the shoot she did in Laguna Beach for a swimwear designer. Just as it did when I saw that ad, my blood heats as she stands with droplets of water running down her lithe body.
She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, back on the mountainside and in Los Angeles. Lilah is the perfect mix of innocence and debauchery. Her entire being is a juxtaposition in and of itself.
She doesn’t notice me as she wrings the water out of her long blonde hair before sitting on a nearby lounger.
I quietly slide the patio doors open and wait to speak until I’m standing behind her. “Deep in thought?”
She startles and looks over her shoulder with a sad smile. “Something like that. How was your day?”
“Good.” I walk around the lounger and sit on the one next to her. “Scott seemed happy with the dailies.”
“That’s great.” She returns her gaze to the sky above us, rather than the dark ocean reflecting the moonlight past the deck. Her demeanor screams she’s used tonight—alcohol maybe, but probably drugs. She thinks I’m stupid.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, which is fine by me. I’m happy to shut my eyes.
“Do you remember how many stars we used to be able to see back on the mountain?” she asks in a quiet voice.
That she’s bringing up our childhood, a topic she’s quick to change most days, shocks me from answering right away. She turns her head in my direction, looking for my response.
“We used to think we could see every star there ever was,” I answer.
“Remember that book about the constellations that the library had? And you pretended that you lost it, so you wouldn’t have to return it, because I loved it so much?”
I link our hands together, squeezing. “I couldn’t bear to give it back. You loved finding the constellations and hearing the stories behind them. I wasn’t going to return it until we found them all.”
She squeezes my hand back and gazes at the stars above us. Neither of us mentions the fact that my dad was one steel-toed-boot kick away from hospitalizing me after he received notice of the fine because I’d “lost” the book.
Minutes pass in silence before her voice pulls me from the edge of sleep.
“Do you think a person can ever really change who they are?” she asks.
I turn my head toward her. “Of course I do. Everything is a choice. Someone can be whoever they want to be…”
“But then are they just pretending to be something they’re not? Making choices that don’t come naturally to them? Maybe at a certain point, we just are who we are.” She looks my way.
She’s gorgeous in moonlight. Always has been.
“That’s not how I see it.” I shake my head. “Look at us. We’re no longer a pair of poor, half starving kids hiding from our parents. We’re adults with goals. We’ve already changed who we are.”
A sad smile tilts her lips. “You had the dreams. I was just along for the ride.”
“That’s not true.” Irritation colors my voice. We both had the dream to come to Los Angeles. To free ourselves from that shitty place with no future. If she’d believe in herself, she’d be the “it” model.
Lilah huffs a sigh. “Do you ever think about that night?”
My irritation turns to anger. Why does she have to bring that up? We agreed to never talk about it. She’s so insistent tonight on poking at the carcass of our past to see what undesirable things might fall out.
“We’re not discussing it.” I push a hand through my hair and meet her gaze. “We agreed.”
“I know.” She stares at her hands in her lap for a minute before she raises herself off the chair.
