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“That’s the spirit.” Tonia’s voice was falsely cheerful now. It was the same tone I’d heard her use with media outlets when she was trying to make them publish something that wasn’t at all true.
I hung up the phone feeling like I’d received a life sentence in prison and made my way back across the street. Brooke was flirting with some guy who looked like he’d stopped by for a coffee, touching his arm and laughing.
I stopped walking in the center of the road, hoping that Kyla might be driving past. That she might stop, let me in, and drive me far away from my life. But there were only three cars and a pickup truck. They veered around me and kept going.
I ignored the knot of anxiety in my stomach and went back into the restaurant to pay for breakfast.
35
KYLA
Iknew I needed to focus on the movie.
The final day of shooting crept closer and closer. We were already over schedule, and Preston had turned into the worst version of himself, snapping at everyone including Dean, Wyatt, and Isaac. The crew wore permanently tense expressions, and we worked longer and harder hours, sometimes wrapping up at three in the morning, only to resume filming at six.
It was tough.
Despite knowing how important the deadline was, it was hard to concentrate when I was filming almost every scene with three actors who had given so much pleasure to the most private parts of my body. Every touch, every word — hell, even every moment of eye contact — brought back memories that made electricity jolt through my veins.
“Cut!” Preston called for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. “Are you drunk? Hungover? Stupid? Because that was your cue and you missed your lineagain.”
I blinked as the memory of being with both Isaac and Wyatt in the hotel room faded from behind my eyes. Preston’s beadyeyes were on me, and when I looked around, so were everyone else’s.
“Shit, sorry.” I dropped the white cushion that had re-triggered my happy memories and moved back to the couch to restart the scene. “It won’t happen again.”
Brooke was perched on the edge of a folding chair behind Preston, chewing gum, and grinning with barely disguised glee as I tried to ignore her and mentally get back into the scene. I couldnotget distracted again — the last thing I needed was to be fired and have to repay the money I’d already started spending on food and electricity, since I didn’t have my usual income from the cafe.
“Action.”
This time, I executed the scene flawlessly, although I felt Brooke and Preston watching me the entire time, waiting for me to screw up.
“That was better,” Preston grumbled. “Let’s do it again, from the top.”
By the time we finished filming, I was exhausted. I made my way to my trailer and climbed into my bed, grateful for the warmth, softness, and the opportunity to revisit my memories from the hotel uninterrupted.
That was until someone knocked on my door.
“Go away,” I murmured, too softly for anyone outside to hear, determined to stay quiet until they gave up and left.
They knocked again.
“Kyla? It’s me.” Dean’s voice came through the door. “Let me in before Brooke finds me.”
As soon as I opened it, he rushed past and flattened himself against the wall so he could peek out the curtain while hiding from anyone who might be outside.
“I hope she didn’t see me.” He pulled the curtain closed. “But this can’t wait.”
“What’s going on?”
A dozen scenarios flicked through my mind, inspired by the panic in his eyes. Had someone published more news articles about me? Had Brooke done something terrible? Had I beenfired?
Dean gazed at me, and his lower lip twitched.
“I’ve fucked up, and now I don’t know what to do.”
“Fucked up?” I repeated, my heart sinking. Washeresponsible for those gossip articles? Dean sat on a chair and looked at the table as though he was examining the detail in the grain.
“I fucked up by taking Tonia’s advice. IhateBrooke. I’m worried that since I’ve wasted so much time with her…” his voice trailed off and he gazed into my eyes. His were damp, with tears forming above his lower eyelashes, ready to fall.
