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“You okay?”
I forced a smile in Tristan’s direction. He peered up at me in concern, his delicate hand on my forearm. The filming itself had been boring. The schedule long and drawn out.
Tristan had been the single bright spot, the one thing that had kept me going.
“Yeah,” I said. “As okay as I can be.”
“This is for the best,” he said. His perfectly styled dark hair didn’t move as he shook his head. I didn’t know what was more attractive about him: his full lips, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut paper, or his vivid green eyes. Even his South Carolina accent was the perfect blend of honey and citrus. It was a combination that had film studios and audiences alike drooling. “You know that.”
“I know.”
Tristan and I concocted this plan two weeks ago after consuming our weight in tequila. Well, Tristan’s weight, maybe. If we’d consumed mine, we’d both be dead. It started when Tristan walked in on me staring at a photo of my last birthday. My whole family were around me, watching me about to blow out the candles on my cake.
But I could only see Silas. His grin. His dimples. The easy adoration as he stared at me.
It’d been so easy to mistake that adoration for something more.
Given how it wasn’t the first time he’d walked in on me moping over my phone, Tristan had declared an intervention.
That was code for tequila and this harebrained plan.
“I’ve hurt us both so much by doing this,” I told him, my voice choked with unshed tears. “If I let things go back to how they were before, what was the point?”
“That’s why my plan is so good,” he exclaimed, gesticulating wildly. “If you have a ‘boyfriend’, it’ll make Silas respect your boundaries. You won’t need to explain that living that codependent lifestyle with him touching you all the time is killing you. With me there, you’ll settle into a more normal friendship.”
“And what’s in it for you?”
Tristan’s eyes were sad as he stared out over the ocean. “Hopefully? Freedom.”
The plane made a swooping motion, dragging me back to the present. A fortnight later, I still wasn’t sure if this was the best plan. But I’d try anything if it meant I got to have a normal friendship with Silas.
Tristan gave an alarmed moan at the turbulence. I reached over and patted his hand. “Thank you again, for all of this.”
“Please, hun, you’re doing me a favour.” Tristan steadied his nerves by taking a deep breath. “Like I said before, I’ve got my own reasons for doing this.”
I tapped his beautiful face. One seen on magazines and billboards almost as often as Luca’s. “What reason could you possibly have for needing a fake boyfriend?”
“One I’m not prepared to share, so quit it.” Tristan playfully nipped at my finger, keeping up the pretence while we were surrounded by nosy members of the public. We’d decided against chartering a jet, opting instead for a commercial flight. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time as it would get us back faster, but I hadn’t accounted for the fact we’d need to keep up the facade for the entire ten-hour flight from Mexico.
“Maybe I can help,” I said, keeping the fake smile on my face. “If you tell me what the problem is, maybe I can come up with a solution.”
The smile Tristan gave me was equally as fake. “Trust me, this ruse will be enough.”
I sighed internally. I liked Tristan a lot…just not in the way we’d led everyone to believe.
Nothing to do with him. The only thing he had missing was the fact he wasn’t Silas.
His friendship was all that had got me through the past four months. We’d bonded on our first day on set, and over the following weeks, I’d found myself opening up to him. The pain I’d kept hidden for so long came pouring out. Tristan became my confidant. Every time Silas texted or called, I’d go to Tristan. He’d distract me with wild tales from Hollywood, tours of the local area, or even celebrity parties.
And when all else failed? He’d break out the tequila.
It was clear Tristan was hiding pain of his own, but no amount of alcohol would make him open up. The diva persona everyone believed he had was exactly that—a persona.
The real Tristan was sweet. Caring. Protective.
The fact he was here proved that.
WeenteredArrivalsandwere met by an onslaught of paparazzi.
