Rockstar Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle New Adult BBW)

by Emme Rollins

  I squinted and was surprised to see a little chalk marked on the grass. “Yes?”

  “That's your spot. Okay! Let's film you walking up to the point. Back here, back here, can't walk to a spot you're standing on, yes?”

  Confused and buffeted from all sides, I followed his direction. The camera dolly followed me, as did the makeup artist. Even as I walked she brushed my face with extra powder.

  “Not sure that's going to help,” I said to her.

  “Every little bit helps,” she assured me.

  I reached the spot where the director wanted me. More of the crew had followed me, and now I stood there wondering what to do. Someone held up a light to illuminate me, and I tried not to stare at it.

  “Okay,” the director said. I still hadn't caught his name. “You are lost and depressed. Ready?”

  No! I wanted to say. How had this happened?

  On the other hand, if they wanted someone lost, they were totally going with the right person. I practically defined lost.

  Okay face, I thought. Look as lost as you feel.

  I must have done something right, because the director shouted, “Perfect! And... action!”

  I started to walk. I tried to think about things that confused me, things like Kent, things like Jason, things like everything in the world. I glanced around, as though I were looking for something, and the wind whipped my hair over my face.

  “Perfect, beautiful,” the director said. “Keep it up.”

  I tossed my head, my brow furrowed as I searched for something I couldn't name. Answers, or truth. Something that I would never find outside of my own head.

  Oh damn. Was this video hitting a little too close to home?

  And then before I knew it, I was at the cliff and had reached my spot.

  “Cut!” the director called. “Great, let's do a few more takes, shoot from the other side this time. Let's keep this rolling.”

  I swear to you, it felt like I walked up that damn little hill to the cliff-side about fifty times, although in reality it was probably only about ten times. Each time the director wanted to change the angle, or get me from another side, and I tried not to entertain the niggling idea that he was searching in vain for my good side. Finally he called cut one last time.

  “Good! We've got it! Now Rebecca, stand on this cliff and stare out to the sea. I hope we get a sunset this evening...”

  He looked worried at that prospect, and then shrugged. “Oh well, we will make do. Rebecca, look distressed. Like you are about to cry, but are barely able to hold it inside. Can you do that?”

  I was an expert in that. My chin trembled, my eyes watered, and I studied the waves as though I could discern some secret written in the foam. The camera swept around me, getting every angle possible.

  At the edge of my consciousness I heard another golf cart pull up. I tossed my hair and tried to look as though I were drowning in despair. But prettily.

  “Rebecca, we're going to pull back, okay? But keep it up. He's going to come up behind you and touch your arm. We need to film him walking toward you. Hug yourself and stare at the sky. That's good... Okay, everyone in place...”

  The wind at the edge of the cliff picked up then and whipped the rest of his words away, so I stood there and hugged myself. Not hard, really—the wind off the pacific was chilly and I was actually getting cold. I rubbed my arms with my hands and prayed Carter wouldn't screw up the shot so we could get this over with.

  Then his hand landed on my arm and I turned.

  But it wasn't Carter. It was Kent.

  He took my breath away. The wind tossed his hair and the darkness of the smudged kohl set off his vivid eyes—the exact same color of the ocean. I wanted to fall into them. I wanted to stand on my tiptoes and fall into him.

  “Good, good,” the director was saying, somewhere far away, and from the corner of my eyes I saw lights and reflectors and cameras, all centered on us, but none of it mattered. I barely even registered their presence.

  Kent stared down at me, and I saw hunger in his eyes, suffering... and a terrible tenderness.

  Reaching up, he stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes searching mine, and I was struck by the realization that the animal attraction between us could be more. Much, much more. He cared about me. He relied on me. He trusted me.

  He wanted me.

  I mean, that's a lot to infer from a single look... but I felt it. I knew it in my bones.

  Then he reached out and put his arms around me, drawing me close. I fell into his warmth, reveling in it. He smelled good, like soap and leather, and his hands tangled in my hair as he tilted my head to the side. His lips grazed my ear.

  “Hello, Rebecca,” he said, low enough that I knew I was the only one who could hear it. “Ready to make out with your boyfriend's brother?”

  My blood ran cold. “What?” I murmured. I turned my face to his. He didn't answer and didn't lean in for a kiss, but instead pressed his cheek against my forehead.

  Far away, the director was giving me instructions I could barely hear. “Cry,” he was saying. “Make me believe it.”

  How could I cry with Kent's arms around me? How could I cry when he had already tried to save me, protect me? How could I cry when the whisper of his breath against my hair lit every nerve of my body on fire?

  I bit my lip and tried to think, think of things that hurt me, that filled me with pain.

  Oh, right. Whosits. Jason. That guy.

  Well, that was easy.

  But when the tears welled up, they weren't tears of sadness or grief—they were tears of gratitude.

  I didn't have to carry the secret of Jason's betrayal by myself. I had Carter... and I had Kent.

  I closed my eyes and let the tears fall, and as I did the sun came out from behind the clouds, washing the cliff in light. Kent's thumb drifted across my cheek, gently lifting my tears away.

  “Kiss,” the director said. “This is a perfect shot, kiss, kiss!”

  So Kent lifted my face to his and kissed me.

  Before it was the hunger of his kiss that shocked me, but now it was the gentleness. A side of him I'd seen only once or twice, and now he opened the floodgates and poured it into me, his lips brushing against mine, his hands on my face as he teased my mouth open with his, his tongue touching me tenderly, gently, as though he could taste my heart and he found it sweet.

  I clung to his wrists as he cradled my face in his palms. The camera circled us, the sun gilding our skin, our hair, our whole bodies. In the fading warmth, we turned to gold, his lips on mine, his hands on my face, my fingers ghosting over his.

  Exquisite torture. A pain so deep it was almost pleasure. Stolen kisses, right out in the open.

  I wanted to reach out and to hold him, grab him, pull him into me, crawl inside him and curl up. I inhaled sharply at the sudden wash of need that swept through me at only this meeting of lips.

  I closed my eyes and gave myself over to him. The sun turned my world red behind my eyelids, and then there was nothing but his hands on me, his mouth on mine, and the heat of desire, need and longing. I surged into him, and he responded. I didn't care who saw, only needed his strength, his gentleness. My body remembered the raw, aching need we had already shared, but my heart sang to be cradled in his hands like water. If he let me go, I would flow out between his fingers and slip to the ground, disappearing into the earth...

  Thighs pressed against mine as he pulled me closer. I tangled my hands in his shirt, and the tears that had begun with gratitude changed to bitterness.

  Will I ever feel this again?

  I clung to him harder.

  And then someone screamed and, startled, we broke away, looking toward the sound.

  And there stood Carter just a few yards away, surrounded by cameras. And utterly devastated.

  His face was bone white, even in the gold of the sunlight, as he watched his brother and his girlfriend together. His eyes were wide and hollow, as though he'd been gutted and w
ere looking down the long, dark tunnel into the next life. Cameras circled him, snatching his shocked, horrified face and storing it away, but he never took his eyes from us.

  Apologies leaped to my mouth, but I couldn't say them. We weren't real boyfriend and girlfriend. This was for a video, it was just... it was just acting, so why did he look so crushed? Did he... did he actually care for me?

  What was going on?

  “Cut!”

  The director's voice sliced through the air like a knife, and just like that the horrible, crumpled look on Carter's face dropped and he gave me a grin. Suddenly I realized it had been a facade. He had been acting.

  Oh shit, I thought. Carter really could act. Kent hadn't been wrong when he'd said that Carter needed something other than music to throw himself into... if he could act, he could go anywhere in life. I knew he didn't love me or think of me as his girlfriend, but for that heart-stopping moment I had thought that he'd been lying to me, that he really did care for me in that way...

  And that's when I remembered.

  The new script. The changed storyboard.

  Of course he didn't have a crush on me. Of course he didn't, because he was the one who changed the script. He and Manny and Sonya had rewritten it... not just for the song, but to put Kent and me into this position.

  That fucker, I thought. He really was trying to play matchmaker!

  Oh. He was good. He was very good. I narrowed my eyes at Carter, but he just grinned wider. I would have sworn he was two seconds from mincing around and singing “Kent and Rebecca, sitting in a tree...”

  Then he sauntered over to us, looking like the cat that ate all the catnip in the garden and then jumped up on the bed and puked it back up all over your great-great-granny's hand-sewn quilt.

  “Hey Mrs. Girlfriend,” he said. “You wanna try some of that making out?”

  I glared at him. “Not right now, thanks.”

  He looked so smug I wanted to strangle him. “What?” he said. “Are you saying Kent didn't get even you started?”

  “Ew, Carter! Don't be gross.”

  But Kent had already stiffened, and not in a good way. He took a heavy step back from me. It was like losing a limb. My heart ached.

  “You're in big trouble,” Kent said to Carter. Then he turned and stalked off, his shoulders rigid. I watched him go and tried to pretend I didn't care.

  “That was great,” the director said, coming up to us. “Rebecca, have you ever tried acting?”

  You have no idea, I thought.

  Chapter Twelve

  “That's a wrap!”

  “Oh, thank sweet soapy Jesus,” Manny said. “I hate these things.”

  I giggled. Manny had the weirdest phrases, and I'd heard most of them over the course of the last two days of shooting. “Well I'll be a greased Jesus” was my favorite. We didn't have any scenes together, but a lot of the focus was on Carter and the various girls hired to play the parts of his fuckbuddies. There were a lot of shots of Carter playing his guitar, and most of the focus was on Sonya as the lead singer, which was fine with me; the storyline for the video was clearly the story of me and Jason, with Carter standing in for my stupid ex.

  This meant that Manny and I had had a lot of time on the sidelines to shoot the shit. When he wasn't high as a kite he was really easy to talk to and a pretty funny guy. Fog had rolled in on the second day of shooting, slowing things down but giving us a great atmosphere and more forgiving lighting, and the director had decided to work with it, squeezing me into a long dress and filming me running through the fog like some kind of waifish ghost.

  I was sure it was going to look great post-production, but through most of the running scene Manny had been yelling at me from the sidelines. “Run, bitch, run for your life!” is not the thing you want to hear while you're traipsing through the fog and trying to look like “a lost soul” as the director had put it. Still, it was nice to make a friend, especially since the only other person who wasn't in almost every other scene was Kent.

  Yeah. Kent. Things between us had been tenser than ever. The cliff-side make out session with Kent had been most of what was needed between us in the video, except for a few scenes of him watching me as I watched Carter do his thing with girls, or watching Carter and I do couple-y things like cuddle or laugh or whatever, which we were both experts at faking. I'd gathered that the make out footage was slated for the end of the video, the 'happy ending' as it were, and I found myself wishing I'd screwed it up the first time so we'd have to have more takes.

  Either way, Kent didn't want to talk to me, and more and more as shooting had continued I wondered why Kent, Carter and I were carrying on with this farce. At the very least we should be telling the rest of the band about our arrangement. I'd managed to keep up my end of the bargain, after all—Carter had started to forget all about drowning himself in alcohol and drugs, his creativity was revving up and off the charts, and right about now would be a good time for us to break up anyway. I'd overheard Kent on his cell phone, talking about sending scripts around so Carter could pick a project. If he wanted Carter to be as big as possible, it would be good for us to break up and get him on the gossip reels again.

  Even when we went back to the hotel for the night—usually very late at night—Kent wouldn't talk to me or even look at me, though he passed me every time we all went to our rooms. His room was right next to mine and Carter's, and I was usually digging the key out of my bag when he brushed past me, stealing my breath.

  Then I'd spend the night in the king-sized bed while Carter, a true gentleman, took the couch. It was lonely in that bed, and even through my exhaustion I managed to stay awake, thinking about Kent and about those kisses stolen on the edge of that cliff.

  If we'd swung out into the emptiness, I was certain we would have flown.

  Well. All that was over now and it was back to business as usual. I'd talk to Kent about the state of my relationship with Carter after we got home. Right now I just wanted to go back to the hotel, throw myself in bed and sleep until we had to get up tomorrow. Shooting a video is exhausting.

  But then Manny turned to me and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “So, Rebecca, you want to go out for some drinks with Sonya and me?”

  I blinked. “What? Drinks?”

  He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Yes. Drinks. Bebidas. Cervesas. At a bar. Let's go wind down.”

  I glanced over at Sonya, who wasn't paying us any attention. She was methodically taking off the wardrobe jewelry as she moved toward the wardrobe trailer. “Are you sure Sonya won't mind if I come along?” I asked.

  “Sonya won't care,” he assured me.

  I hesitated. I was technically still under contract to watch over Carter. Should he come with us? Should I tell Kent where I was going? Everything was so weird.

  “Let me, uh... go talk to Carter.”

  Manny nodded affably and wandered toward the van. “Let me know, because we're heading out in a few minutes.”

  I nodded and walked over to where Carter was standing, looking exhausted but relieved.

  “Hey, Mrs. Girlfriend,” he said as I approached. “So what do you think of making a music video?”

  “I think it kind of sucks,” I said.

  “I know, but I also love it,” he replied. “I mean, it's exhausting, but I actually got to do some acting this time, so it wasn't so boring, you know?”

  I smiled. “Yeah. You're a really good actor. Did you know that?”

  “Kent always said so, but I wasn't sure I believed him.”

  “He was right.”

  Carter grinned at me. “Thanks, Rebecca. I appreciate that.”

  I smiled back, and then remembered what I was here for. “Oh, yeah. Manny and Sonya invited me out for drinks to celebrate the wrap. You wanna come with?”

  To my shock he shook his head. “Nah, I don't think so. I want to go back to the hotel and go to bed, you know? I don't really feel like drinking.”

  I almost asked him if he were feel
ing okay, but I bit my tongue at the last second. “Okay,” I said instead. “Maybe I'll take you out for lunch tomorrow or something.”

  “Sushi,” he said immediately. “You will take me out for sushi. To celebrate how great I am at acting.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Have you looked at any scripts yet?”

  He shook his head. “No, but that's something to think about. Hey, you want to read scripts with me over lunch? Kent said there's some waiting at home, so we can figure out together if I'm going to be a vampire, a werewolf, or a fairy.” He tilted his head and looked at his back. “I think I'd look good with wings. What do you think?”

  “I think you'd look good as a CGI wolf,” I said.

  “Ouch, Mrs. Girlfriend. A shot across the bow.”

  I grinned and poked him. “You should be a fairy. Or an alien.”

  “Oooh, an alien! We'll see if there's a script for that. Don't drink so much you can't read tomorrow.”

  “Not a problem,” I assured him. I turned to go find Manny.

  A chest blocked my way.

  I pulled up short and looked up and up again into Kent's eyes.

  “May I help you?” I asked. I tried to be all nonchalant about it but my voice cracked like that of a twelve year old boy. I'm smooth like butter, you see.

  Kent raised a brow. “You're going out?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I asked Carter, but he said he wanted to go back to the hotel and crash.”

  Kent tilted his head. “And you believed him?”

  I suddenly felt very tired. “Yes,” I said. “I did. We're going out to lunch tomorrow and he wants me to be unhungover so we can go over the scripts he's been offered.”

  Kent actually looked vaguely surprised by that. “You are?”

  I nodded. “Yup. So he's going to go get some sleep and I'm going to go hang out with Manny and Sonya.”

  He thought about this for a second. “Are you sure?” he said finally. “You don't want to avoid San Diego night life for... reasons?”

  I felt my lips thin, but I squared my shoulders at him. “No,” I said after a second. “No, I think I can handle it. Besides, I'll take us to a bar I've never been to before.”