by S. L. Scott
Her voice trails off as I tune her out. Luke tucks his hands in his pockets, his pace slowing. The longer it takes the more my heart races. I bite my bottom lip and angle my body to face him, still unsure why he’s coming over here. Caroline has never hidden her feelings for him and our other friend, Tara, is more interested in the jock types like Ricky. That leaves me. I want to stand up, to stand on unsteady feet, which seems more stable than staying here like a sitting duck. I take a quick glance around to see if he could be coming to see anyone else, but no one else is close enough.
Our eyes meet, and then he’s standing right in front of me. “Hi,” he says, waving at me awkwardly, then looking down again and shaking his hand.
Did I do something wrong already? I’ve never been that girl—the one who uses her looks in trade for another rung higher up the social-climbing ladder. These boobs are new. Over the summer they burst out of that size-A bra without my permission. Suddenly I was shopping with my friends for more than new miniskirts. My hips widened just enough for my mom to note my figure is no longer one of a tomboy’s. She called it hourglass. I like this new me, but today, on the first day of my junior year I’m worried how others will judge me—changes for the better or for the worse?
Looking up at Luke, and seeing his sweet smile, I realize it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks. I’ve had a crush on Luke Anders since I was eleven years old. As he sticks his hand out for me to shake, I smile because whether my boobs are in training or have become fodder for the locker room, he only looks into my eyes.
“Hi,” I reply, noticing how the blue of his eyes reminds me of the ocean he loves to surf.
…Rolling to my side, I run my fingers through the hair covering his temple. “I used to get my mom to drop me off at the beach in hopes you’d be there,” I confess. When his eyes open, he’s sleepy but his happiness is evident. “I would watch you surf. And sometimes, I’d bring binoculars.”
Luke smiles. It’s lazy from exhaustion, and utterly sexy. “I know.”
“You do?” I ask in surprise.
“I would spy on you too. I’d wipe out and hope you didn’t see. I felt so lame. A couple times I paddled in to talk to you. It took me like an hour to convince myself to do it. Every time I did, your mom would show up and you’d leave.”
“My mom had a knack at keeping the boys away.”
“She was smart.”
“She failed when it came to you.”
“Thank God.” His hand slips under the sheets until it’s flat on my stomach. “How tired are you?”
Looking at the clock, I say, “It’s almost one in the morning. Should we get some sleep?”
“No.” He lifts up on his forearms, shaking his head. “I want to tell you something and I want you to listen.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t know from my words that you were the only one I ever wanted. When you came over last year and we talked, I knew you cared, but I didn’t realize you couldn’t say it because you didn’t want to get hurt. I thought you were being selfish—leading me on while staying with Lawrence. I just wish we had talked about everything then.” When a tear appears and slides down my cheek, he whispers, “No more tears. I don’t want to be the cause of anymore of your tears.”
“They’re happy tears.”
His thumb wipes it away anyway. He comes closer and rests his chest on mine before kissing me. Then he says, “I want to feel your heartbeat next to mine.”
When he whispers such romantic words, I fall even deeper in love with him. I don’t use that word, careful not to rush into something I can’t control, something that could not just hurt but devastate me again. He used to tell me he’d love me forever, but I stop remembering the past and feel the present, letting our bodies speak to each other instead.
We don’t bother with foreplay, both needing the physical connection more right now. He’s inside me, moving slowly, purposefully, engulfing me back into an emotional space where our problems don’t exist, no pain exists, a place where our pleasure intensifies drowning out the rest of the world. We’re sweating and sated, our breaths uneven, and our pulses are currents, every nerve ending electrified until our hearts give in and I kiss the top of his head as it rests on my chest.
He kisses my breast, his arm wrapping around me tighter. I’m not sure what time I fall asleep, but I’m well aware when I’m woken up. My heart stops when someone bangs on the door. I’d jump, but the weight of Luke holds me in place. But the moonlight coming in allows me to see the panic in his eyes. His voice is low but firm, “Go to your room and lock the door.” He stands up and grabs some boxers from the floor. “Go, Jane.”
I scurry to my feet and hurry back to my room. I shut the door and lock it like he said. I hear the lock bolt into place on the other side. Though I’m naked and cold, I press my ear to the door, needing to know who would bang on Luke’s door at this hour. Glancing over my shoulder to the clock, I see a three from across the room. Three a.m.? Who is coming to see him now and why?
The voices next door are muffled but I can tell it’s a woman. I try to peek out my peephole but can’t see far enough to the right to see who it is, so I run on tiptoes grabbing my robe from the bed and hurry back to the shared door to listen again.
Luke’s voice is similar to the one he just used on me—strong, mindful, terse. I can’t tell whom the female voice belongs to but I’m starting to get pissed when they lower theirs and are talking. Why is she not leaving? Why is he letting her in? What the hell?
Through the volume of their voices, I track their movement around the room to the point when it seems she is now where the bed is located, the bed I just crawled out of. I back up, staring at the door in offense. If looks could burn holes through wood that door would be incinerated.
Luke’s voice is close all of the sudden, which means Luke is—just on the other side of our shared door. “We’ll talk about this later. You should get some rest, Jessica.”
Jessica!
My fists ball at my sides and I silently scream. What the hell is she doing in my boyfriend’s hotel room at 3:23 in the morning? I move away from the door before I explode through it. When I sit on the edge of the bed, I lie back, fuming in anger.
A light knock causes me to sit up and I go to unlock the door and head right back to my bed. As Luke opens it, I crawl under the covers, pulling them up to my neck.
He stops at the end of the bed, a sexy smirk on his face that makes it hard to stay mad. “Can I join you?”
But somehow I manage to. “I don’t think so.”
His head tilts as his eyes level on mine. “Janie, what’s wrong?”
We seem to be locked in a standoff. Like in the past, even though thoughts are running furiously through my mind, I can’t vocalize them. Is that what went wrong for us? I didn’t communicate what was really on my heart? I couldn’t tell him?
I don’t want to consider why another woman is coming to his room in the middle of the night. Or worse, why she thinks it’s okay to do so. He’s the producer, not the director. Surely if she had issues with anything to do with the movie or her role, she should have gone to Ian. But, I’m angry and tired, and don’t want this right now. I give in and speak just to end it. “Nothing’s wrong, Luke.” The K in his name is hit hard, just to prove how pissed I am. “Go back to your room.” I pull the blanket even tighter to my neck, cocooning myself in its comfort, and turn onto my side, away from him.
He doesn’t go though.
He stays, standing there for at least one long awkward minute or two until I look back over my shoulder. Luke doesn’t say anything or make any excuses, so I turn to face him, my breathing harder as anger continues to course through me.
Then he has the nerve to climb into bed with me. Irate, I glare at him, shocked by his gall. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to sleep.”
“Go back to your room to sleep.”
“No,” he says, getting too comfortable for my l
iking.
I push him, but he doesn’t budge. “Yes. I mean it.”
Grabbing my wrists, he holds me still. “I mean it too. I’m not leaving. I know what you’re thinking, but what you’re thinking is wrong.”
“Why would she think she can come to your room at this hour?”
“Because she’s used to getting her way.”
I squirm, trying to free my wrists. Our knees bump together, but I’m determined to get away from him. “Luke,” I whisper yell through gritted teeth, “let me go. I’m not playing around.”
Turning me around in one swift move, his arms are around me as his body cradles mine from behind. With his lips to my ear, he says, “I’m not playing around either, Jane. You are not going to do this. Whatever crazy is going on in your head right now, clear it out.” His arms tighten when I continue to squirm.
“I don’t want to talk about this. Just go.”
“I didn’t give her any reason to assume it was okay for her to come to my room.”
“Then why would she?”
“Because she’s spoiled.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Does she want him? Isn’t she with Ryan? I roll my eyes. “Just go. I’m not in the mood to play your games.”
“My games? You’ve got a starring role in the game we play, the game you started.” He moves on top of me, trapping my legs beneath him while holding my arms to the bed. “So I’ll say it again. Look at me.”
“No.”
“Jane? Please look at me.”
When I do, he says, “I did not invite her. I have no control over her decisions, but I do over mine and I choose you. I always have.” He leans down and kisses me.
I don’t care how much I like his defense of us, and his kiss. I hang on to the anger a bit longer. “How dare you kiss me when I’m mad.”
“You have no reason to be mad.” His voice is calm, no anger found in his tone. “So if you are, I’ll kiss you until you aren’t anymore.”
I scoff and free my arms, immediately pushing against him. He’s quick and stills me again. “Oh no, you won’t.”
“Prepare yourself, Jane Lewis, because I’m going to kiss you and you’re going to kiss me back.” This time he frees my arms, so confident and cocky, testing me.
With both hands pressing up against him, I warn, “Like hell I will. Get off me.”
“Yes, you are, because you know I’m telling you the truth. You know I wouldn’t betray you.”
“You did. You betrayed me before,” I let it come out, tears filling my eyes.
His stare is hard. I turn away, not able to face him when he asks, “When? You say that but I still have no idea what you mean. Was I fucking other women? Yes. There. There’s the truth you’ve wanted me to confirm for you. But you were fucking your so-called fiancé, so tell me why your situation is more acceptable than mine.”
“Because I never stopped loving you, but you stopped loving me.” My confession halts us. I close my eyes so I can hide my pain from him.
His tone is composed, sweet even, causing me to soften my stronghold on this issue. He whispers, “See, baby, that’s where you’re wrong.” He kisses me gently.
This time I don’t struggle. I don’t want to keep falling into this pattern of pushing him away. I want to forget about our time apart and feel this, feel everything again with him. As much as I want to hate him for moving on, he thought I had already. For a short time, I thought I had as well. But there’s no getting over losing part of your soul.
Disappointed in myself, I confess my sin, “I called you my boyfriend.”
He smiles.
“Don’t. Please.”
“I like being your boyfriend. So what’s so wrong with you calling me that?”
“Everything, because if I called you my boyfriend that means you’re in here,” I say, tapping my chest. “And that leads to heartbreak.”
“Not if I can help it.” And then he smiles. It’s not cocky. It reminds me of the timid boy who approached me that first day at school. Genuine.
I can’t hold on to this anger anymore. He doesn’t deserve it no matter how much it hurt me to find that woman at his house. He thought I was over him. I’m so stupid to let pride and hurt feelings destroy what we once had. I let him kiss me again because I want his love so desperately. I want him. All of him to be mine. We need to try to wipe the slate clean, overlook each other’s… indiscretions. And he can help me do that.
“Kiss me and make it all go away.”
CHAPTER 17
~Jane~
“I’VE BEEN HEARING rumors,” Scalia singsongs, sidling up to me.
I keep my eyes on the actors as they rehearse. “What rumors might those be?”
“That you’re fucking a few of the crew members.”
My mouth drops open and I lurch my attention in her direction from shock. “A few? I am not!” Luke is not considered part of the crew. Is he?
We’re shot a dirty glare from the assistant director since the actors are rehearsing, but Ian’s expression is more on the side of curiosity.
Scalia taps my shoulder, and whispers, “Well, you’re fucking somebody because your skin looks amazing, all dewy and you’re happy, like annoyingly so. Did you even realize you were whistling earlier?”
“I was not. Was I?”
“Well, it might have been more of a hum, but it sounded chipper. Are you going to spill or do I need to ask the gaffer?”
I smile, but hold back the laugh I want to let out, whispering instead, “I am not having sex with the Gaffer, the Grip, Craft Services, or any other crew member. Can’t a girl just be happy?”
“No. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, missy. In the meantime, I’m heading to Continental Club tonight. Wanna come?”
“Text me later with details. I might stay in tonight. I have some work to do on a different script as well as a few rewrites I might need to do on this one.”
“’Kay. Have a good one. I’m off to shop.”
Rehearsals aren’t going well. Jessica and Ryan are fighting on and off set. No surprise since she’s showing up at hotel rooms other than her boyfriend’s in the middle of the night. She’s gone to Ian more than three times to complain. He finally, on her demand, comes to me. “She’s not connecting with the character.”
“And?”
“And she’s the star, so we need to appease her.”
I just look at him, cross that I’m expected to change the character to suit her whims and moods.
When I don’t respond, he says, “I think we need to look at this scene and see how we can fix it.”
“Fix it? The scene is not the problem. They are. They are not connecting. I think they either broke up or are on the verge of it.”
He looks over at them. “Really? Why do you say that?”
“Just a hunch.” I want to tell him because she’s slinking around my boyfriend in the middle of the night, but I don’t. “Watch their body language.” We watch as they interact. Jessica’s closed off to Ryan with her arms crossed over her chest, completely unreceptive as he tries to get her to interact with him.
“Huh? Shit. This is why we never should have cast them. Relationships that form on set like theirs did on the last film never last and now we’re paying the price.” He taps the script in my lap. “What can we do?”
“It’s not the script, so maybe close the set down to give it a more intimate feel. Right now they’re ‘acting’ instead of feeling.” Luke walks in and like my heart, my gaze drifts to him. His eyes meet mine, but we both promptly look away. I gulp, trying to coat my throat that has suddenly gone dry.
“I’ll get Anders on it.” Ian walks off.
Exhaling loud enough to let Luke know he has me in a complete tizzy mess over him, I sit back and watch as Ian starts talking to Luke. They both watch the actors, nodding, and then Ian walks on set while Luke comes toward me.
Though I’m looking away, I feel our connection even at a distance. So much of this
reminds me of high school. We were a couple from that moment the first day of our junior year. The pain was lessened last night, but didn’t go away entirely, making me wonder what we are now.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” I reply.
His hands are shoved into his pockets and he rocks back on his heels. “So last night…” He looks over his shoulder at the set. Ian is leaning in, talking to Jessica and Ryan, distracted from us.
I repeat, “So last night…”
“What happened?”
“We made up and made love.”
“We did, but I don’t want that to happen again. I’ve been thinking about things.” My heart falls to the pit of my stomach listening to him. “That wasn’t us. That wasn’t you. I understand you’ve been hurt, but I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that when someone else did something, you lost trust in me.”
It rushes out, but I still feel both words immensely. “I’m sorry.”
His hand reaches for me, but then he remembers where he is and shoves it back in his pocket. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to believe in me again. I’ve not lied to you, not about our past or the past few years apart. I understand you were hurt. I understand that more than anything, but if you want us to be together again, you need to trust me. Or we’ll need to take this slower.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No. I would have you moved in tonight if we were in LA. But we’re not. We’re on location and there are a lot of reasons to keep things professional until we’re home again. While we’re here, no one can control what we do after hours. So if I have my way, that door that connects my room to yours will remain wide open, just like my heart. If you want to keep that door wide open too, then we will.”
Ian calls out, “Luke?”
Luke looks behind him, but says to me, “I told him if they can’t work it out we’d look at the scene again, but I need to go.” His expression is one of kindness and patience when he looks to me. “I don’t want you to rush an answer or feel pressured. Now you know where my head’s at. I’m not leaving anything off the table. I’m all in. Think about where you are with us and let’s talk tonight.” He walks away after a quiet goodbye.