Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
This wasn’t like Los Angeles.
This was home, and at home he felt painfully self-conscious about knocking on that door only for Brendan to tell him to go bother someone else.
That was what he hated the most about being back in the manor, he thought.
Not Maxwell over his shoulder all the time.
Not the smothering, pointed questions.
Not everyone always wanting him to smile and wave.
It was that being home made him feel vulnerable, made him remember how naïve he’d been before he’d left the island, made him feel so fragile, and he couldn’t fucking be fragile if he was going to make it through parting ways with Brendan.
The film was almost over. Wrapped with amazing time, but once they’d found their footing back in the studio they’d nearly sailed through so many scenes, even with Newcomb’s interruptions. Cillian should be relieved. No more slimy director always over his shoulder; no more reason for Newcomb to threaten him.
But the end of one thing meant an end to another.
And he let out a long, deep sigh, bubbling the liquid in his coffee mug as he buried his mouth against it and leaned against Sophie.
“Look at him,” he muttered, nodding down the length of the long lines of tables that had been set out for cast and crew to eat a communal breakfast. Much further down the table, Brendan sat with the costume director, deep in animated conversation. Cillian let out a disgusted sound.
“That,” he growled into his coffee, “is not the real Brendan Lau. That’s Casanova Brendan Lau. Fooling everyone into thinking he’s nice. The real Brendan Lau is a grumpy bastard I can’t figure out.”
Sophie leaned against him with a sympathetic smile. “You really miss him, huh.”
“How can I miss him? He’s right there!” Cillian flung a hand out. “Being annoying. And sexy. And too close. And too far away.”
“Wow,” Sophie said dryly. “You really can’t keep a lid on your libido, can you. Poor deprived thing.”
“It’s not about that! …it’s a little about that.” He slumped down. “…he hasn’t touched me since we got here.”
“Would you want to have sex with someone in their parents’ house?”
“Well…no…but I just…”
“You are ridiculous.” She poked his side. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”
He stiffened, ears burning. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar.” Eyes glittering, she dragged her messenger bag up into her lap, its weight shifting with clear heft. “Which reminds me. I wanted to show you something.’
“Hm…?”
“Look.” Sophie pulled out a thick cardstock-bound script, freshly printed, and thumped it onto the table hard enough to make the silverware jolt. “I finished my first script!”
“That’s amazing, Soph.” He traced his fingers over the print on the cover, then laughed. “…How to Love a Cactus? What’s it about?”
“Wellll…” She smirked slyly. “It’s about two super-defensive men who swear they’re just having a casual fling, when actually they’re falling in love. But they’re too stubborn to tell each other.”
He narrowed his eyes. “…hey.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she chirped.
“Right. Sure you didn’t.” Cillian glanced down the table again, just as Brendan looked up, caught his eye—and winked with that fucking cocksure smile, that bastard, that bastard, making Cillian’s gut knot up… He scowled at Brendan and wrenched his gaze away. “I’m proud of you. You’re really serious about directing, aren’t you?”
She nodded quickly. “Acting’s fun, but I want all the power.” She let out a mock-grr and clenched her fist. “I mean, I’m not gonna abuse it like certain pricks we know. But I want it anyway.” She laughed, then, dimpling at him. “Would you read it and tell me if it sucks?”
“Absolutely, though I know it won’t.” He flipped the cover open, scanning the first few lines. “Do you mind if I show Brendan? He’ll say he’s not, but he’ll be absolutely tickled.”
“Only if he won’t kill me when he sees the character named Brandon Liu,” Sophie lilted, and Cillian laughed, shaking his head.
Sophie really was something else. He just wished figuring this thing out with Brendan could be as easy as it was in a script. Always a perfect solution, a way out…instead of muddles and duty and heartbreak.
Why can’t I choose for myself?
Why can’t I be selfish just this once?
Damn it, it wasn’t fair. But then life wasn’t fair, and that was something he’d learned long before he’d wandered away from his sheltered little kingdom to discover a world that looked much different from the picture painted by life in this isolated pocket of frozen time.
But why did he have to lose not one, but two things he loved…all in one fell swoop?
l
SO HE CHOSE TO BE selfish.
Just this once.
He knew this castle like he knew his own body. Knew the whispers and rhythms of it, how the sounds changed when there were more people or less, the subtle shift in tone when all but a few late-nighters had gone to bed, a dormant thing at rest. And he waited until that stillness settled over the manor before he eased out of bed and eased into the hallways with Sophie’s script tucked under his arm, making his way through the winding corridors that wound their way around the central courtyard.