Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I know Jane wants to accommodate them, but I have to make the call. There are too many people here. Not enough temp guards. And by the time she finishes signing everything, it’ll be well past dark. People will be pissed, no matter which way you spin it.
“Jaaaaaane! Please !” A girl holds out her phone.
“She’s running late,” I tell the girl. “Sorry everyone!” I wave them to back up and then carefully open the door for Jane. She squeezes past my waist and into the car. Our eyes lock briefly and she mouths thanks .
“Bitch!” someone yells at Jane as I walk to the other side of the door. The temps leave me for security’s SUV parked behind the Beetle.
“You selfish brat!”
Her “fans” suddenly turn. Wave of angry tears and yells at the car. “We just wanted one photo!”
“You suuuck!” Someone throws a water bottle at the Beetle and it bounces off the tire. Realization hits me, that even though I was the one that told them she’s running late, I’m the one that gave the excuse, they’re all attacking her.
Farrow gets the brunt of the harassment while he’s publicly dating Maximoff. They call him controlling. A shitty boyfriend and bad influence.
No one has said that about me.
They just blame her.
I open my door. The scooter-riding teenager yells at the windshield, “It’s what you deserve, you spoiled cu—”
“Hey!” I yell at him. Hand on the top of my slightly ajar, driver-side door. His eyes hit mine, but I’m full of untapped rage. “Fuck off.” I need a punching bag and three million hours to blow this steam.
I dip down into the car and shut the door. Locked. Closed. I turn to the only person that matters in this situation. All things considered, Jane looks unafflicted by the name calling. She gives me a tight smile. “From zero to one-hundred,” she says. “First they love me and then I’m the very thing that exists on the bottom of their shoe.”
I put the car in gear and head out, careful to avoid paparazzi. “Does that bother you? Especially because your brothers don’t get that kind of shit.”
“I wouldn’t wish that on them.” She takes a deeper breath. “Though, it is funny how my brothers can shirk off autographs and photos and not have an angry crowd chanting horrible things at them.” Jane reaches for the air conditioning. Even though it’s a chilly mid-October day, and we’re both wearing light coats.
I look from her. To the road. Back to her.
“You didn’t deserve that,” I tell Jane.
Her eyes redden suddenly. “I know,” she breathes. “And I usually don’t need to hear that, but…that was nice. Really nice. Especially coming from you.” Good. I slide my hand against her thigh. She places a palm on top of it. Silence bleeds into the car for a second.
It’s so different on her detail than Xander’s. He was idolized to the point where he could do no wrong. Jane makes one small decision that someone doesn’t agree with and she’s cancelled, condemned, hated.
If this were ancient Sparta, all her enemies would be dead right now. I’d kill them. No question. I felt this way for a long time, but something feels different.
Do I want more with her?
More than just sex inside a fake dating op?
Doesn’t matter. It’s never going to happen. She’s not open to a relationship or love.
This is the part where I’d ask my brother for advice. He’d help me figure out if I should talk to her about it or just drop it. Never bring it up. Not being able to confide in Banks is a really strange position, and I’m not sure I love it.
I’m not sure how long it can last.
30
THATCHER MORETTI
I watch a fifteen-year-old scrawny kid circle a boxing ring against an equal-sized opponent. Teaching Xander how to defend himself—it’s an honor. One I didn’t think he’d grant me or my brother. Not after we left him.
There are days where I miss checking up on Xander. Hearing him speak in Elvish and talk about whatever shitpost he found on Reddit.
But I needed to be with Jane—as her bodyguard. I transferred to her detail with her safety in mind, and Xander needs to trust the whole team.
Not just me. Not just Banks.
In the ring, Xander is bouncing on his feet like Farrow, Banks, and I taught him a few days ago. His shoulders are hunched from bad posture— from trying to hide most of his life. Shrinking in on himself.
Being six-foot-two hasn’t helped his case. But despite that, he still has this photogenic, youthful face that conveys teen angst. Preteen girls are already waiting for him to exit Studio 9. Just to say they were close enough to breathe the same air as Xander Hale.
I wish Banks were here today, but he’s filling in on Audrey Cobalt’s detail.