I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe out heavily as I stare out the window. He’s going to make me work for this and it’s embarrassing enough without dragging out every bit of information from him.
“Don’t fuck around with me, was she upset or anything?”
I catch Bruce glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think so. She didn’t say a word until she got out of the car.”
“And?”
“And all she said was thank you.”
That’s it? She didn’t mention me or say a word? Somehow, I thought maybe she really did recognize me and just didn’t want to let on in the gym. I guess not, or else she would have gushed about it to Bruce or wheedled him for information about me.
“Oh.” I feel stupid, at a loss for words. Then a thought crosses my mind. “You took her to her place, right?”
“Yes, straight there.”
“So, you know where she lives?”
Bruce pauses before answering. Great, he thinks I’m a stalker. Maybe I’m turning into one. I certainly don’t feel like myself today. I’ve been completely fucked in the head by spending a measley fifteen minutes with Sydney.
“Yes. I do.”
I sit back and think about this for a while, processing the information. I could hang out in front of her building all day like a psycho, but Sydney is way too suspicious for that. Something tells me she wouldn’t like it at all. I could send flowers or some shit to her, but I don’t know her last name, plus that’s a total cliché.
Shit. I have no idea how to see her again without her thinking I’m a crazy, stalking, lunatic. Normal girls would probably love being pursued like that, but Sydney is different. Reserved, guarded somehow. Untrusting.
I think of the scar on her arm and feel the fury from earlier eclipse everything else. Did a man do that to her? Is that why she was uncomfortable around me? Why she ran away? The thought of anyone hurting her makes me so enraged that I see red.
“She did give me something you may find interesting,” Bruce says, pulling me back to the present.
“What’s that?”
Bruce holds his hand up over the front seat and I take a small, square napkin from him.
“A napkin? What am I supposed to do with this?” I growl. Now I’m confused on top of the irritation I was already feeling.
“Maybe that’s where she gets her coffee every day. It’s only two blocks from her building.”
Bruce is a fucking genius. Sydney wouldn’t think it was creepy if she bumped into me at her favorite coffee shop. I grin and read the name on the napkin.
Village Coffee Bar
“Thanks man, I owe you.”
Especially if this works and I get to see her again.
CHAPTER 2
I think my toes are freezing solid.
I’m not sure why I decided it was a good idea to walk back from my radio interview this morning, but for some reason that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s probably because all I’ve thought about since last week is Sydney. I can’t get her out of my head and it’s driving me nuts. An icy cold walk is exactly what I need to clear my mind before I get to the little coffee shop that the napkin came from.
I’ve grown out my facial hair over the past few days and I put my Trevor Caldwell 2004 World Series hat on when I left the radio station. It’s important that no one recognizes me when I run into Sydney. If she doesn’t know that I’m a famous actor, I don’t want her to find out. I haven’t met someone who sees me for me in a long fucking time.
My phone rings and I pull it out, sighing when I see the screen. It’s Quentin, my agent.
“What?” I bark into the phone. I’m not happy with him after that interview this morning. I need some space away from all of that shit, the fake adoration and ass-kissing like I was subjected to today. Hell, that I’m subjected to everyday. People act like they know me, but they know the shell. The Andrew Forrester, ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ machine that is created to sell my movies.
God I hate that bullshit title.
“Well good morning to you too Sunshine,” he replies. “I wanted to see how the interview went.”
“You know I hate doing in-person shit, Quentin. It sucked. That’s how it went.” I can picture him smirking at me, loving how uncomfortable it makes me to do live interviews.
I really am an asshole.
Sometimes, no most of the time, I just want to be a regular guy walking home from work like everyone else in New York. No one asking for anything or propositioning anything or pretending to be someone else to get to me. It’s so exhausting dealing with all that crap every day. I love what I do but I despise what comes with it.
“You know the fans love it, Drew. Gotta give them a piece of you once and a while to keep it feeling real,” he jokes. Only, he’s not joking. He gets off sending me on these live interviews because he knows it pisses me off. Plus he says it makes me more likeable to the fans. I can feel the tension in my shoulders knot up as he speaks.
“Well, it went like it always does, Quentin. Lots of ass-kissing and completely awkward. Is there a point to this call? I’m busy.”
“Just keeping in touch with my favorite client. Talk to you later. And hey, check your email. I sent you a contract for that script you were talking about producing.”
“Yeah. I will.” I shove my phone in my pocket and realize I’m already there, the Village Coffee Bar. It took every ounce of willpower I have to wait almost a week before turning up here to find Sydney. As much as I wanted to come here the very next day, I didn’t want to freak her out and send her fleeing, plus I had to grow out this stupid scruff to cover my very recognizable face.
So instead of rushing down here and staking the place out, I spent a week jerking off in the shower while I thought about her. I’ve officially reverted back into a desperate, horny teenager.
I tug my hat down lower on my brow to cover my eyes and zip my coat up over my chin. There, that will have to do, I want to act like a regular guy but I’m not stupid enough to think I can just walk around in public without my ‘costume’ on, as I call it. I have one of the most identifiable faces in the world and it’s easier to hide it when I’m not working and don’t want to be bothered.
I step inside the café and am hit with a wave of warm cinnamon and coffee scented air. It smells really good in here. There’s a display case full of different flavors of fluffy croissants. I shouldn’t eat such fattening food, but I order an orange croissant anyway, along with a large coffee. The stressed out guy serving me doesn’t even look twice.
Nice, my costume is serving me well already.
A quick glance around shows that the place has a cool vibe and isn’t overly crowded, so I grab a table in the back and face the corner so no one will recognize me. I can still see the door in my peripheral vision to watch out for Sydney.
As if I have a chance in hell of bumping into her here. Maybe this was a stupid idea.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, interrupting my stalking. Groaning, I pull it out and take a look. Jane, my assistant, is emailing me my schedule for the next week. Not a whole lot, but a few commitments that I can’t blow off. A magazine interview tomorrow morning, by phone. I can just call that one in. I text Jane that tomorrow morning’s interview is fine. Also, I need her to make arrangements for my flights to and from the shoot in Los Angeles in a couple of weeks. Chad has been bugging me non-stop that I haven’t given him my definite arrival date for our next project.
God, I hate L.A. That’s why I’ve always lived here in New York City. If there were a bigger film industry back home, I’d have stayed in Boston where I grew up. New York is as far west as I’m willing to live.
L.A. is so fake and full of bullshit. Too many paparazzi, too many backstabbers, too many people pretending to give a crap. New York is more real, the people are real. For the most part, I get left alone when I’m here. Every once in a while there’ll be a pic in some tabloid of me doing something completely stupid, like buying fruit.
<
br /> Who the hell gives a shit that I buy fruit?
I answer a few more work related emails on my phone. I have one that says the premiere for A Soldier’s Burden has been scheduled for March, so I’ll have to go back to L.A. for that, then three more cities: Miami, New York and Chicago. I sigh, four red carpets.
Almost ten years I’ve been single, minus those annoying contractual relationships to promote a movie, and the reporters still speculate about my love life and ask who I’m dating even though I never bring a date. Every. Fucking. Time. Like I would tell them anything about my private life. Screw that. They’d ruin it in a heartbeat.
I don’t do relationships anyway. I fuck. No attachments. Fans are too irritating to date, and actresses love themselves more than anything else. I usually hook up with a hot crew member during a shoot and cut ties at the end. She gets me for six weeks and I get laid. Easy.
So why am I here?
I sip my steaming black coffee and lift my head to look around. Shit. It’s packed in here all of a sudden. What the hell is going on? There are tons of women lingering around the coffee shop, not eating or drinking, just hanging out. They didn’t spot me did they?
No one is looking my way, so I’m not sure. To be safe, I duck my head and face the back corner again. And between the warm air and the hot coffee, I’m starting to burn up in my coat, but I can’t take the chance by removing it and exposing my face.
Thump! A huge purse lands on my table. Damn, they found me. With my hat and my three day old beard, I’m surprised that anyone recognizes me. I glance up and am stunned see the object of my recent fantasies sitting down at my table.
Sydney.
My brain fails me and I’m unable to make words form. I must have missed her come in when I was checking my email. I can’t believe she’s actually here. My stalking worked.
Speechless, me. Who would have thought?
Sydney starts speaking without looking up as she sits, “I’m sorry to intrude, you don’t have to talk to me if you want privacy, there’s just nowhere else to sit.”
Sydney cleans up well. She’s so gorgeous that my brain has shut down and stopped functioning. She has a tall and athletic body, pale, perfect skin, long wavy dark red hair, and a big smile on her face. Just then, she looks up and realizes who I am. Her smile freezes on her face.
Her luscious pink mouth falls open and an adorable blush fills her cheeks.
“Sydney, what are you doing here?” I say smoothly. I have to play it cool so she doesn’t know I was stalking her, but she’s so cute I can hardly keep the smile off of my face.
She turns an even darker shade of red and drops her gaze to the table.
“Ummmm, my best friend owns this café. I can give you a proper introduction later, it’s not usually this crowded in here.”
Sydney looks back up at me and time seems to stop. I take in every detail of her face; the tiny freckles that dot her nose and cheeks, the long lashes that frame her vibrant blue eyes, the slightly too-full lips that I can’t wait to taste.
I’m still committing every part of her to memory when she speaks, “What’s with the repellant outfit?”
I’m taken aback by her words and playful tone. This is a different girl than the shy, withdrawn one I met last week. I hold in a smile. “Repellant? Interesting description, but accurate in a way.” I wink at her and she laughs. She has no idea how funny it is. Women don’t call me repellant. Ever. And I love that she just did.
“Obviously not repellant enough since I’m sitting here with you,” she says with a smirk on her face. I was not expecting this snarky, playful girl.
I think I might love her. Fuck! Did I just think that?
“Yes, but you’re only sitting here because there were no other tables free and from the looks of it…” I glance down at her sexy high-heeled boots and struggle to keep the lust off of my face as I imagine those heels around my waist, “your shoes are probably uncomfortable. I’m apparently just shy of being repellant enough to make you suffer blisters; I must be losing my touch. I’ll have to step up my game and find a more offensive outfit next time.”
I sit back and take another sip of my coffee, impatient to hear what she says next. A customer is getting too close to our table so I duck my head down to hide my face. Shit, I really want to be able to look at Sydney, but I can’t be recognized in front of her.
“True, the comfort of my feet will always trump avoiding repellant men in coffee shops. Plus, you did save me from freezing to death the other day, so that counts for something.” She fires right back at me, giggling the entire time.
Wow. Stunning, a sense of humor, and she’s not intimidated by me. She just needs to be single. I think I would marry her tomorrow. Would it scare her away if I said that to her right now? I flinch internally at the thought.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I shake my head to try to hide my smile and fail. She’s completely charming and doesn’t even know it. I’m still laughing when I notice that Sydney has stopped smiling and is staring at me, looking from my mouth to my eyes with a look I recognize. Interesting, Sydney finds me attractive.
It’s mutual, believe me.
“Sorry, Syd. It’s just nuts in here today.” The little blond from behind the counter puts a croissant and a coffee in front of Sydney. I duck my head instinctively so she won’t see my face. I’m having so much fun with Sydney, I don’t want her friend to ruin it. “Well, I gotta get back behind the counter. These ladies are eating Ben alive!” The blond quickly hustles back to the register.
Desperate for something to do with my hands, I pick at my napkin to distract me from thinking about taking Sydney back to my place, making her tell me everything about herself then fucking her senseless. My awkward silence must get to her, because she speaks to me again.
“That’s my friend Leah, who I told you owns this place. Like I said, it’s never this crowded in here,” she pauses. “So, you’re new here, like a lot of these people. What brings you here this lovely morning?”
I’m still shocked that she doesn’t recognize me. I figure for now, I’ll just be myself, Drew Forrester. It seems to be working for me so far. “I had time to kill, wanted a cup of coffee, and walked past this place. It looked good, so I popped in. It wasn’t this crowded when I got here.”
I take a chance and look up at her again. “I didn’t slip on the ice out front and come in bleeding if that’s what you’re wondering,” I tease. She’s staring right back at me, trapping me in her the depths of her intensely blue eyes. My gaze drops to her full pink lips. God, she’s unbelievably gorgeous. I’m getting hard just from looking at her.
I really am a fifteen year-old with a permanent hard-on around her. Get it together, Forrester.
“Well, I’m glad you popped in.” Her honest admission surprises me. She was pretty walled off the first time we met.
“I’m glad too. Maybe I’m not so repellant after all, huh?” My honest admission surprises me as well. I need to ask her out before she leaves. I can’t let her get away without finding out who she is. For some reason my mind is telling me that she’s better than the quick fuck my dick is trying to convince me that I need.
“No, I don’t think you are. So …” she stops talking when her friend Leah throws an enormous magazine down on the table and it makes a loud smack! Are you kidding me? I want to know what Sydney was going to say next. Now, Sydney is cringing, obviously uncomfortable with the interruption. She’s back to being the scared girl that I met in my gym.
“Leah, what are you doing?” I look down at the table again so her friend can’t make out who I am. “You know I don’t read magazines like that.”
What kind of magazine? I peek over and see a GQ on the table. I hate not being able to see her face and take in her reactions. I’ve always been very good at reading people’s facial expressions, especially hers. She reads like an open book.
I hear a chair being pulled over to the table and out of the corner of my eye
I see Leah sitting down. I duck my head and pull at my napkin again. If I act weird enough, maybe she won’t talk to me.
“I know Syd, I’m sorry for interrupting but I wanted to show you something and the counter is a little slower right now, so Ben can handle it alone…. Hi, I’m Leah.”
She’s talking to me. I can’t be rude in front of Sydney. She’ll think I’m a lunatic. Keeping my hat low, I respond, “Drew. Nice to meet you.”
Fuck, this one definitely knows who I am. It’s written all over her face when I glance up. Please don’t say anything to your friend. If she only knew how hard it is for me to meet real people with no expectations, let alone someone as fascinating and beautiful as Sydney, she might take pity on me.
“Yes, well, like I said, I’m … I’m sorry to intrude but I’ve, uh, I’ve been waiting for Sydney to get here to uh … show her this.” She looks from me to Sydney, then back again, but doesn’t say anything.
She pushes the magazine towards Sydney who looks absolutely terrified of a GQ, like it’s going to jump off the table and attack her. “Leah!” Yep, not happy.
Leah placates her but continues to force the magazine in front of her. “I know, I know. But you have to see this, it’s why we’re so busy today, and I thought it was time you knew something. Trust me, please.”
Leah shifts her eyes over to me again, clearly knowing who I am, then back at Sydney to see her response to the GQ. Sydney looks to me for help. I just pull down my hat and shrug. I have no idea what’s going on here.
“What? I don’t … What the …? I’m not sure I … What the hell, Leah! Adam?” That gets my attention. I take another look at the magazine and see that fucking prick Adam Reynolds on the cover.
My blood feels like acid in my veins. I despise that douchebag. He fucked me over a long time ago. More recently, we got into it at a mutual friend’s house because he was mad that I got the cover of People magazine’s Sexiest Man issue instead of him.
Like I get a vote in that shit!
I don’t want the attention. He can have it, but don’t be such a fucking baby about it dude! He said something to me, I told him to fuck off. It wasn’t my best moment. He was acting like a giant cocksucker at the gathering. When his girlfriend was cast opposite me in an upcoming movie, it really pissed him off. She was hanging all over me at the party, even I was uncomfortable with her forwardness. Serves him the fuck right though, asshole. He’s lucky I didn’t pulverize his face.
Already Famous Page 2