by Cassie Cross
River turns in his seat and folds his free hand over our joined ones. The warmth of it makes my eyes flutter closed, and I try very hard to focus on this new-friend-slash-fake-boyfriend-slash-crush-of-mine.
“Listen to me,” he says, dipping his head so I can look into those sky-blue eyes. “There’s nothing we can do about them calling your name, unfortunately, but Claudia’s going to be there to point at which camera to look in so we don’t have goofy pictures where we’re looking in opposite directions, right?”
I nod. Yes, this sounds familiar.
“You aren’t going to say anything stupid, because you don’t say stupid things.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t know me well enough to be able to say that,” I argue.
He grins, then reaches up and glides his fingertips along my cheekbone. “Call it a hunch. And as for your teeth? Smile for me.”
Reluctantly, I do as he asks.
“Lipstick-free,” he confirms. “I’ll be there, and if you say something stupid, I’ll butt in and say something stupider. The red carpet is gonna be fine. People are gonna love the movie and love you in it; it was a great flick. It’s gonna be a great night.”
Wait, what? “How do you know it was great?”
“Because I watched it this morning. I got a screener from Keith.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I mean…when someone asks me what I think of it, I’d like to be able to give them a well thought-out answer.”
Yet another point in his book.
“You’re a pretty good fake boyfriend, I have to say. And you haven’t even made your debut yet.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well…what can I say, I like you.”
Before I have a chance to digest that, the car comes to a stop and the door swings open.
Showtime.
“You ready?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”
He winks. “C’mon, let’s go.”
For as much as Claudia tried to prepare us for what to expect, she did a terrible job of explaining the absolute frenzy that the two of us together was going to create on the red carpet. It’s already weird enough having a hundred photographers yell your name, it’s even worse when they’re getting a show they didn’t expect and want to be the first person to get the best shot.
She’s standing behind the gaggle with this giant pointer, indicating which camera we should be looking at as we make our way down the carpet. River’s hand is on the small of my back, his thumb tracing gentle patterns there that are soothing even through the fabric of my dress.
The motion is calming me down in one way and working me up in another. I want to run inside to get away from River to make it stop, and pull him closer to keep it going. Fake Skye is tossed to the curb as the real me has this unfortunately timed epiphany that I want River, and I want him now.
But no, no, that’s just the adrenaline talking. Once we make it down the line and my heartbeat settles down, my brain will tell my heart (and my hormones) to shut the hell up.
We come to Emmy with Entertainment Now!, and she’s the one who throws us a softball question about how long we’ve been together. Claudia told us to keep it vague enough to be true so that we don’t contradict ourselves. I tell her that we’ve been together for a little while and that we’re very happy. River echoes the sentiment and tells me that he’s happy to be on the arm of the most beautiful girl on the carpet.
I grip the back of his jacket to steady myself, flexing the fabric in my hand until I remember that wrinkles are a thing and I don’t want River to have them.
“Have you seen the movie?” Emmy yells at River over the commotion.
“I’ve seen it, and she’s wonderful in it,” he explains, voice raised so that she can hear him. “I think audiences are going to fall in love with Skye playing Pearl like I did,” he says, looking at me with a soft kind of awe that makes my legs feel unsteady. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, but maybe I’m a little bit biased.”
Emmy visibly swoons, and to be honest, so do I. Wow, he’s good.
River pulls me closer as we move on to the next interview, his fingers wrapped firmly around my waist. We’re asked similar questions, and he gives equally dazzling and heart-stopping answers. He’s definitely holding up his end of the bargain here; if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was telling the truth.
It’s up to me to put on my A-game, so I throw him a few compliments at our next interviewer. By the time we hit the end of the line, we’ve expressed our happiness and admiration for each other with the kind of answers that are definitely going to keep the people who would be interested in our relationship well-fed for the next few weeks.
Claudia’s practically vibrating out of her skin by the time we sit down for the movie, and when I come back to my seat after introducing it with my costars, she’s frantically scrolling through Instagram with a triumphant look on her face.
“They’re buying it,” she whispers, leaning over me so that River can see her feed too. I am depressed to see that my fans decided to go with Elemental, just like Claudia said they would.
Thankfully, she saves the I-told-you-sos.
After the movie, River and I decide to walk over to the restaurant where the after party’s being held. Claudia leaves us to our own devices, and for the first time all night, it’s just the two of us.
The night has turned a little chilly, so River takes off his jacket and slings it over my shoulders.
“You smell really good, do you know that? Like, I’m sure people tell you that all the time.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks over at me. “Not really, no. But it’s good to know, because that’s a new cologne that I helped work on. We’re going to the release party week after next.”
“I thought you just did the modeling for that one.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, I helped develop it too.”
“Well,” I reply, tucking my head into the collar of his jacket and breathing in, “I can already tell you’ve done a spectacular job.”
“Thanks,” he laughs.
“You were really great tonight on the red carpet. Those things you said about me and my performance, they were nice. Perfect. Exactly the kind of thing that a person who’s a little insecure about the work they did would like to hear.”
“I’m glad to hear it, and I meant what I said. This…” he motions between us, “thing might be scripted, but what I said was from the heart.”
I smile at him, and after taking a few steps, I say, “Claudia really knows how to pick ‘em, huh?”
His dimple peeks out as he smiles down at the ground. “Seems that way. I have friends, I don’t want to make it seem like I don’t, but most of them are from back home and they don’t know what it’s like to live here and work in this business. It comes with its own set of challenges. A lot of the friendships I’ve made since I moved here seem superficial, but this one, it…”
“It doesn’t. It feels like exactly what I needed.”
“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “Me too.
“It was a good idea, taking this walk. I usually need a little time to myself to process after premieres.”
“Watching yourself on screen for two hours is a lot.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe I should be one of those people who claims they just can’t do it so I can get out of this kind of stuff. Although it is kind of great to get a standing ovation at the end, even if half the people there don’t mean it.”
He laughs. “That it is. Have you ever had an audience not clap?”
“No, I think I would die. You?”
“Thankfully no. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky.”
We come to a stop in front of the restaurant, and he gently tugs on the lapels of his jacket, pulling me closer. “Wanna keep this on?”
I nod. It’s like a nice, comfortable blanket. “If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind, althoug
h I think it’s a shame that it covers up that dress.” He leans in so close I can feel his breath across my cheek. “Especially the back.”
The shiver that runs through me has absolutely nothing to do with the temperature.
“C’mon,” he says. “We better get inside.”
River and I don’t get a chance to say or do much together, aside from float from group to group as we schmooze a little. Claudia lets us know that we’re trending on Twitter, and mostly spends the night networking with brief updates in between.
Seems like our first outing was a success.
Claudia and Keith get a ride home with one of the other partners in their firm, leaving me and River alone in the limo. It’s late and I’m a little buzzed from the champagne and tired from the day-long flurry of activity. I fall asleep shortly after we leave the restaurant, and wake up with my head on River’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he says quietly, like his normal voice is too loud for me at the moment. “We’re home.”
“My home?” I ask, totally not with it.
His chest rumbles. “Yes, your home.”
He opens the door and I drowsily scoot to the edge of the seat. I take his hand and use his weight for leverage as I hoist myself out, but my body is just so exhausted. My stomach flips as he lifts me up and carries me to the front door.
“Can I get the key out of your purse?” he asks, still a gentleman when I’m passed out on his shoulder.
“Mmm-hmm.” I make a move to help him, but I’m much too slow. He manages anyway, and I give him half-slurred instructions on where my bedroom is. He flicks on the light and I squint against its brightness.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“S’okay.”
“Do you want to put on some pajamas?”
“No,” I mumble. “Comfy like this. Those elephant marshmallows are nice.”
I think I make out a quiet laugh, but I’m not totally sure. “They are.”
There’s a little rustling, and then I’m away from the warmth, but tucked into pillowy softness.
“Thank you,” I say, hoping someone’s around to hear it.
There’s a dip in the bed, and my hair gets brushed away from my face. A soft kiss on my forehead followed by stubble.
“Goodnight, Skye,” he whispers.
I drift off into sweet dreams.
Chapter Six
I wake up sprawled across my mattress with my skirt hiked up, still wearing River’s jacket. When I sit up and blink, I notice that one eye is crusty with smeared mascara. I pull a little off, hearing my mother reprimanding me for damaging my eyelashes from a continent away.
A buzz coming from my dresser grabs my attention. My purse is vibrating on the nightstand. I fish my phone out to see about 100 unread texts.
Two are from my parents hoping that the premiere went well, a few are from other friends, one is from my sister-in-law Macy, who attached a copy of a picture of River and me on the red carpet last night that she must’ve pulled off of Twitter or Instagram.
Just looking at us together makes my heart skip a beat, because we’re staring at each other like we both think the other one hung the moon. I wasn’t sure I was carrying my weight last night in terms of our bargain goes, but we really do look like two people freshly falling in love.
I’m actually impressed with myself. Claudia had tried to show me these pictures, but I’d shooed her away, not really wanting to focus on them, but seeing them now? It takes my breath away.
Beneath the picture, Macy wrote:
Your brother says this isn’t real. You sure about that?
I ignore that, not really sure how to answer it at the moment.
The next one is from River.
Carried you in last night, you were too tired to walk. Mentioned something about elephant shaped marshmallows. Hope it was a good dream.
A rush of warmth unfurls in my belly. I type out a reply:
I had great dreams. Thanks for taking care of me last night.
Kendall’s message asks for me to call her, so I do that. She answers on the first ring.
“Your dog had me up at five this morning, and I’ve been waiting for you to call me back ever since.”
“Sorry,” I say, stifling a yawn.
“Sounds like it was a good night,” she singsongs. “Anyone else there?”
I sigh. “Nope. Just me alone in my bed.”
“Well that’s a damn shame. Did you see those pictures of you and River last night? You expect me to believe anything about that is fake?”
“It’s called acting,” I tell her, only halfway sarcastic.
“No offense, sweetie, because you know I love you and your work, but I don’t think you have it in you to produce such a high-level deception. And I’ve seen his movies, he definitely doesn’t.”
“It’s just a picture,” I argue.
She tuts into the speaker. “You know I sat here last night and watched every single one of your interviews. It’s a thousand pictures and a handful of videos, Skye. You two have chemistry. He likes you.”
“He told me as much. And I like him too. And I’ll keep liking him until March until this thing is over and we both move on.”
“Skye,” she sighs. “This doesn’t have to be fake.”
This is what she doesn’t understand. “It does have to be fake, it is fake. Because when it’s not fake, he decides he likes kissing his costar offscreen. When it’s not fake, pictures of it happening get splashed everywhere, and I get my heart broken and humiliated. I’m not doing that again.”
“Sweetie, not everyone is Cam.”
I play with the edge of my blanket. “Yeah, well…some people are.”
“Okay, have it your way for now. I’ll get through to you someday.”
“But not today,” I say, hoping she’ll take the hint to just let it go for now. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll come over to pick up the pup, alright? Should I bring you a coffee?”
Gigi barks in the background. “Yes, please. One that’s as big as my head. This one has more energy than I know how to handle.”
Ain’t that the truth.
I end the call, and against my better judgment, scroll back to the picture. I stare at it for a long while, getting lost in something that can never be. Then, for reasons that I’m not sure I want to examine or admit to, I save the pic.
Just to have it, for memory’s sake.
Chapter Seven
Over the next couple of weeks, River and I continue our fake relationship and our real…friendship? Whatever it is. I try not to think about it. We meet for lunch a few times, once scheduled by Claudia as a photo-op, and the others not. The pictures are met online with a frenzy, which I try not to look at too much so that I don’t get too lost in other people’s feelings about us, good or bad.
The only time I fail at that is when fans interrupt us for pictures, but that’s only happened a handful of times and Claudia’s always ecstatic when it does.
When we’re together, I find that I don’t think about the cameras all that much.
We spend time together with absolutely no pressure, and I don’t know how River feels about it, but I find that I want to spend time with him more and more of my own volition, and not to perpetuate for some sham that we’re presenting to the public to advance our careers.
Apart from the lunches, sometimes we meet for a walk in the park with Gigi, or just to hang out and watch movies together. He really does have a deep breadth of knowledge and his beautiful brain is a storage cabinet for tons of movie trivia. I learn more about my profession after an afternoon with him than I have on my own in a decade.
I delve into River’s resume, and watch everything he’s been in, from a guest stint on a kid’s show when he was seventeen, to his latest release, where he plays a mercenary on the run from the law. Yeah, it’s a lot of surface-level action stuff, but he’s capable of adding a depth and vulnerability to his characters that you don’t often see in the kinds of projects he c
hooses, and I think that’ll suit him well when he tries to branch out.
We talk on the phone almost every night, because both of us suffer from insomnia. A few times I’ve woken up to him snoring on the other end of the line. During our chats I’ve learned that he wanted to be an astronaut when he was a kid, and that it was a dream of his father’s that’s driving him to audition for a role in a biopic about John Glenn. I learn that he loves pickles, and is allergic to avocados. I mourn his loss by eating enough guacamole for the two of us when we order Mexican for movie night one Saturday.
When the party for the release of his cologne campaign rolls around, I call Keith to see if he can have the company send over a promo kit. They’re happy to oblige, and not only do I get physical pictures of River’s photo shoot, but I also get a bottle of the cologne.
I spray it on one of my jackets like a creep, just to see if I get the same kind of comfort that I do from River, and sadly…it’s just not the same. It’s mixed with something uniquely him that I crave, and the realization of that is troubling to say the least.
He picks me up for the party in his truck, and knocks on my door like the gentleman he is. He’s in a more casual suit tonight, slacks and jacket, shirt that’s unbuttoned on the color and no tie. I’m wearing a flirty little red dress I picked up at a sample sale.
“Wow,” I say, stepping onto the porch as Gigi goes absolutely nuts behind me. “That suit looks like it was made for you.”
He grins, and with this look? It’s sexy as hell. “As a matter of fact, it was.”
He scoops up my puppy and gives her a few scratches behind the ear, then I put her back inside and close the door behind me. When I turn around, I nearly run into a wall of River. He’s so close that I could take a step forward and climb him like a tree.
The idea is definitely tempting.
“Hey,” he says, all rumbly and low. His hands cup my shoulders, then his fingers blaze a trail of goosebumps down my arms. He squeezes my hands and says, “You look beautiful.”