Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
My view might be skewed because he’s just the latest target of my infatuation with “straight” men, and every time that voice inside my head tells me Blake is different, another one reminds me I always think that.
How can I trust my head or my heart when neither can agree?
“We might have started with something fake,” Madden says, “but I’ve fallen for you.”
My chest hurts as longing stabs at it. I close my eyes and drink in the words, waiting for the one day someone would say them to me and mean it.
Not until they get sick of me. Not until they find someone else.
I want the words.
I want the promise.
And I want it to be genuine.
Permanent.
“I want a forever type person,” I murmur.
Blake’s eyes widen a tiny bit, and I catch myself and where I am and what I’m doing.
That wasn’t part of the script, but Ben isn’t calling cut.
“You can have a forever,” Blake ad-libs. “With me.”
Seeing as we’re already off script, I kiss him hard, knowing it’s all pretend but ignoring that fact for now.
I want to bask in a healthy relationship for a moment before coming back to reality and chasing the toxic situations I constantly put myself in.
I’m shallow and nice to look at. That somehow culminates into an image of someone who isn’t worth getting serious over.
I’m never seen as the forever guy.
And for the first time in my life, I want to be.
I’ve tried not to look at Blake, tried not to pay him attention outside of our scenes together, and on other sets, the lines have been clear. It’s been easy to switch in and out of character, pretend to be in love with someone I have absolutely no feelings for, but with Blake, it’s so much harder to separate fiction from reality.
“Cut!” Ben finally calls.
When Blake pulls away, he’s blurry through my glassy eyes. When he comes into focus, he’s staring at me as if he wants to say something or ask a question I can’t answer like “Was that Eamon or you talking?”
“Run it again with the scripted lines,” Ben says. When I turn to him, he has a worried look on his face, but he nods. “Good shot, though. It might even be usable.”
We run the scene again, with the correct lines, but it’s not the same. It doesn’t have the right tone, the right emotion. It only cements that what I just did wasn’t acting. It was telling Blake I want a forever person.
We get through the rest of the shooting schedule for the day and are sent on our merry way, when Blake sidles up to me on my way to my trailer.
“I was thinking … How do you feel about me coming over tonight?”
“Too risky.”
“Come to Denver’s?”
“Paparazzi know my car, and they’re camped outside my apartment. I’m sure Mason and Denver wouldn’t appreciate me turning up with cameras in tow. Didn’t they just get back from Montana?”
Blake’s shoulders slump.
“Sorry,” I say.
“I thought after this morning—”
“That the paparazzi suddenly aren’t a problem? This morning was a calculated risk. One I probably shouldn’t have taken but did.”
He grabs my arm to stop me from walking, and we come face-to-face. “Are the paparazzi the only obstacle, or are you avoiding seeing me for other reasons?”
“Just the paps,” I lie.
“You have an underground parking garage in your building, don’t you?”
“Yeah, why?”
Blake smiles. “Then leave it to me.”
A few hours later, when he calls me to open my garage and come down to meet him, he whisks me away in his chauffeured town car with tinted windows so dark, nobody could see in.
“Where are we going? Denver’s?”
“Nope. Somewhere private.” At Blake’s feet, I notice a duffle bag.
“Umm, so, like, the moon? Maybe a spaceship to Mars? They’re the only two places I can think of that aren’t keeping an eye out for us.”
“Hey, I’m sure there are a bunch of perverted Martians who’d love to know what the deal between us is.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this … watched before.” It makes me itchy. I don’t like it.
“Aliens are kinky bastards. They’re probably watching right now.”
I backhand his arm playfully. “I mean it. This is crazy.”
“I’m sorry. This is boy band levels of normal for me.”
“Except that following was mostly positive, wasn’t it? I’ve been reading about how you came between Ben and me and that we were having an affair on set. You and I are public enemy number one.”
“Dude, don’t read the comments. Ever. It’s been years since I’ve touched social media.”
“I wish I had your restraint.” Every time I look, I’m reminded of all the reasons why I should stay away from Blake.
Blake’s driver pulls into the Angeles Hotel in downtown LA, into the underground garage, and Blake hands me a key. “Go up to room 1501, and I’ll come up in five minutes. Oh …” He reaches between his feet on the floor of the car and pulls up a wig, sunglasses, and a cowboy hat. “Unless you want the fake mustache instead of the wig.” He pulls that out from his back pocket.