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Hayley Bennett waltzed into his periphery, five feet five of sharp wit and temptation. Harrison kept his eyes on Lee. He wasn’t ready.
Her voice was infused with fondness. “Oh, come on, Harry. Don’t look so glum. This will be fun.”
It wouldn’t.
Before Lee could slither out the door like the snake he was, Harrison cornered him, lowering his voice so Hayley wouldn’t overhear. “I’m not going to forget this. Thirty years of friendship, and you’re leaving me stuck here like this is some damn real life rom-com?”
Lee clapped Harrison on the shoulder, cool as anything. If he wasn’t careful, his smile would get stuck that way. “Don’t look so worried. It’s only a week. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I’ll send you a list.”
A familiar laugh rang out but was quickly covered with a cough, and Harrison turned. Hayley slid gracefully into a seat, the epitome of elegance, her shoulder-length hair carefully tucked behind one ear.
Lee patted Harrison’s chest, smug smile firmly in place. Definitely ex-best friend. “You’ll be fine.”
* * *
Harrison rolled his battered suitcase into the corner of the room. He’d practically been shoved onto the last-minute flight by the studio, which meant this project was important. He still didn’t like it.
Hated even more that he couldn’t check in to his room for another few hours, and all he wanted was a decent coffee and a nap.
It didn’t help that he was stuck in this tiny bland room, the only sign of life being the glass door and the view beyond it, which was — you guessed it — a beige hallway.
Maybe he could set his next screenplay in a cubicle farm, some sort of pseudo surreal world of endless beige that served as a commentary of how much routine we embraced before it stripped the very color from our lives.
The knot in his stomach tightened. He’d be calmer if he wasn’t sardined in this room with the one person he’d spent months avoiding.
Seeing Hayley again was short-circuiting his brain. He’d foolishly hoped he could forget her after the party, but he hadn’t counted on Lee selling him out.
Maybe no amount of time would be enough. Six months hadn’t dulled her memory or the impact of seeing her again.
Hayley was just as beautiful as ever, holding court over his senses, and he was a mere jester.
She was smooth to his scruff, always polished and proper. If she’d traveled recently, it didn’t show. Where Harrison looked like a mutt rescued from a house fire in a dark T-shirt and loose jeans (the only thing about him that was relaxed), Hayley stunned in crisp, clean tailoring.
Cheekbones, neck, shoulder — her body was a series of alcoves he wanted to hide away in. Her long legs were currently hidden under trousers, leaving only a flash of bare ankle on show. He remembered exactly what her legs felt like wrapped around him and wanted to run his thumb over that delicate skin, dip his fingers lightly under the hem of her pants to see if the same flame sparked to life in her eyes.
Amber, he remembered. A deep, magnetic amber.
“I want to make it clear that I’m only doing this because I’m contracted to.” He rifled through his bag for his ear buds. He fucking longed to take a shower, to wash off the stale smell of recycled plane air and his frustrations.
“Don’t worry. It’s exceedingly obvious that you don’t want to be here. And since you couldn’t find love if you fell into a vat of it, I don’t expect that you’ll be any help.”
Well, at least her expectations were reasonable.
“I’ll take that as a compliment since these films are all the same. Vapid and uninspired.”
“You’re calling my work vapid?”
He shrugged, the lie twisting in his gut. Truthfully, her writing was insightful, though crippled by the idiotic conventions she played to. But there was no denying her talent, nor her success. Her last movie had outsold his by an entire decimal point, even if her name had been buried in the credits.
He wasn’t sure what pissed him off more.
Lee had made it clear that the studio wanted him here because of the acclaim his films had always achieved (he’d take the Academy’s accolades over what appealed to the average person). But if they had hoped he could raise this drivel to his usual heights, they were mistaken.
Hayley didn’t need help. And he didn’t want to be here. It should be a no-brainer.
But if suffering through this week meant he could make his own stuff again, he’d take it.
