Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
But I want to be more than his concert date. More than his travel companion for publicity events.
I want to be the man by his side.
Except, our track record is a warning sign. Stay in the slow lane.
I’ll just have to keep pumping the brakes on this real fake romance a little longer.
26
REALITY CHECK
TJ
Jude is busy the rest of Friday afternoon. Slade arranged for a publicity assistant to escort the rising star to a handful of various interviews in the city, meeting with entertainment press about the movie and the Oscars.
That gives me plenty of time alone in the hotel room to bang out another chapter. I settle into the couch and write my ass off.
When I finish in the early evening, I check my texts. My app is drowning in messages from my friends about sushi tomorrow.
They’re all in. Jason, Luke, and Christian too. Jason lands tomorrow, as he said, but Luke’s here and wants to know if we’re free tonight. Christian asks who’s up for a few rounds of poker tonight.
Cards with new friends and my guy? Kind of sounds . . . perfect, so I reply: Let me check with Jude when he gets back.
I hit send, then re-read my message. Something just feels right about making these kinds of plans, this kind of way.
I’m about to exit the app when a new text from my brother pops up.
I never replied to his earlier one. I’m officially a very bad twin. I click open his note. Fine, don’t tell me shit, but you look happy. Nice pic in The Hollywood Scoop.
Pic? What pic is he talking about?
Nerves prickle along my neck as I sit bolt upright and jump onto the blog. Scrolling the home page, I spot a piece titled What Happens in Vegas . . .
With terror in my veins, I open the blog post.
The hottest new Hollywood ship was spotted by yours truly this morning. Jude Fox and TJ Hardman indulged in this too cute for words selfie after an Egg-asmic breakfast at The Invitation. They are so adorbs they’re warming this jaded blogger’s cold, black heart.
Good thing this romance is heating up. If the wheels keep falling off the Top-Notch Boyfriend Webflix train, Hardman will need someone to turn to when the project derails.
Dread coils in my gut.
That’s why the blonde from earlier looked eerily familiar. She’s Rikki Finch, the blogger.
I click over to my contacts and hit Mason’s name at the speed of sound. I barely have time for hello. “What is this Hollywood Scoop piece all about?”
“TJ, what have I told you about the gossip blog?” He sounds exasperated.
I’m sure he once bequeathed wisdom to me on the topic, but I can’t remember where I stashed that chestnut. “I don’t know. Just tell me. My heart is racing at a thousand miles an hour.”
“Get a drink. Take a bath. Listen to some music.”
“I hate baths,” I grumble.
“Because you hate relaxation.” He knows me far too well. “But there is nothing you can do about gossip blogs, so go play blackjack, or chill out with your man. Everyone has an agenda and Rikki Finch’s agenda is clicks. Read the piece again. There’s nothing new in it. She snapped a pic of you and now she’s trying to tie the pic to your Webflix deal to make it seem newsy.”
A voice calls out on his end of the phone, but I can’t make out what his husband says.
“I’ll be right there, hot stuff. It’s TJ,” Mason replies to Tremaine. A pause. “I’ll send him your love and then get the fuck off. Message received.”
I yank the phone away from my face. Shit. It’s nearly seven, which means it’s almost ten in New York. “Sorry, Mason. It’s Friday night. Go have fun with your hubs.”
“I will. We’re going to take a bath, since you’re not.”
Rolling my eyes, I laugh. “Okay, that was TMI.”
“Nope. It wasn’t. I’ve read your books. That was not TMI at all. Now, consider this an order: go enjoy a nice platonic date with your fake boyfriend and let it inspire you.”
Real, I say to myself.
Everything with Jude feels real.
An hour later, my fake boyfriend and I play poker with Christian and Luke.
“So then I said, Yes, of course I do all my own stunts, except for any involving cats. That’s where I draw the line,” Christian says as he slides a chip across the felt.
“The fe-line line, is it?” Jude asks playfully.
Christian shudders. “Claws. Who wants to mess with that?” he says as the tuxedoed dealer slaps two cards down for Jude.
“I’ll make sure to work a stunt double for any cat scenes into my next contract,” Jude says as he picks up the cards.
“Nothing is more terrifying than a cat. Not even a three-hundred-pound lineman coming at you on the line of scrimmage,” the golden-boy football player, Luke, puts in.