A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

“Sure thing! Do you have a marker, pen, or something?” Preston asks, looking at the girl with indulgent eyes.

  “OH MY GOSH. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. This is like so cool.” She pops her gum as she pulls out a Sharpie then hands us headshots of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.

  Now I see why she thought he was Brad Pitt. The picture is one from his last movie where he dyed his hair dark; the resemblance is almost creepy. While I am not built like Angelina Jolie, a girl could get used to being compared to her.

  Signing my — or rather Angelina’s — name, I say a silent prayer that I’m not doing anything illegal. Preston smiles as she runs away, probably rushing to tell her friends. Then, to my horror, I realize she’s pointing at us and talking rather loudly to the hotel staff. Well maybe they will upgrade us.

  I shake my head in disbelief as I look to Preston. He just smiles and nods as if to say, Yeah I get that a lot. Wow, humility is his strong suit — or not.

  “You need to be brought down a few levels.” Snorting, I open up my magazine and try not to be violent toward his arrogant smirk.

  Preston leans over close to my chair, “Are you offering?” I meet his gaze, yet all I can think is how he is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen up close.

  “Did you have plastic surgery? Because you know you can only do so much to the outside. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” Wow, if that isn’t me channeling Grandma Ned. I feel like a Sunday School teacher.

  “Aw, you’re too sweet. You mean you would like me just based on my personality?”

  “No!” I yell a little too loud. “Your personality is narcissistic and selfish.” I shake my head and wonder when this guy will get a clue.

  He grabs my hand and begins caressing the top of it. I tell my body to pull my hand away, but instead it just stays there. Even my own body is a traitor.

  “Challenge—”

  “If you say accepted, I’m throwing you in the pool,” I snap.

  “Okay.” He shrugs.

  Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes then I feel the sun being blocked from my body. As I pull off my sunglasses, I see Preston hovering over me like a lion does to a zebra before it pounces.

  He leans in too close and whispers, “Accepted.”

  I throw down my magazine and lunge for him. Unfortunately, I’m like a bug attacking an elephant, so I never really stood a chance in the first place.

  But, being the good sport he is, he decides to jump in after he pushes me into the pool. Then I notice a few cameras go off, and, to my ultimate embarrassment, I realize people still think we are stupid celebrities. Please, Lord, help this not to make the papers.

  Bringing myself back to reality, I grab a towel before lying down again. “Exactly what,” I ask as I towel dry my hair, “have you accepted as a challenge?”

  “To woo you,” Preston answers, without looking in my direction.

  “Woo me?” I repeat. This ought to be good.

  “Yes, woo, as in I am going to knock you off your feet. I can tell this whole witty banter thing going on between us isn’t enough for you. My, my, you’re a needy one aren’t you? So I will also woo you. You’ll be begging for me to kiss you by the end of this trip.”

  “Overconfident?” I laugh

  “Not at all.” He smiles.

  “There you guys are!” a female voice exclaims.

  I look up in time to see Brad and Kristin approaching. Giving them a weak wave, I take off my sunglasses to fully glare at my best friend. She owes me coffee for life; then again, I do get to stare at Mr. December for the rest of the week, so it won’t be too bad. Except he infuriates me and makes me want to cut off parts of him and feed them to Mrs. Butterworth. At least I didn’t say that out loud.

  Kristin mouths a sorry my way before sitting next to me. “You’ll never believe what we heard!” Her voice is high pitched and airy, so it’s obviously good news.

  “What?” I ask equally excited.

  “Get this!” Her hands are in front of my face as she tries to show me with her body just how big of a deal this news is. “Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are staying at our hotel!” She puts her hands over her mouth in shock as my eyes widen in something entirely different.

  Preston is the first to break the silence. “You don’t say? How do you know?” He looks directly at me, smugness coming off of him in freaking waves.

  I have the sudden urge to drown him in the pool… maybe kiss him first then drown him. His smile deepens. Okay, definitely kiss him first.

  “Well,” Brad interrupts, “we heard they were out here just a bit ago signing autographs. This teenage girl is running around the hotel showing everyone. I think she might’ve even called the local news. I can’t be sure though. She was talking way too fast.”

  Almost choking on my spit, I try to digest the information. “So, reporters might be coming?” I croak out as I glare at Preston again.

  “Yeah, but I mean, I’m sure they are going to hear about it and switch hotels. We just thought we could catch a glimpse of them before they took off.” Brad puts his hand on Kristin’s knee and smiles.

  “Hey,” he looks back toward us, “you guys didn’t happen to see them, did you?”

  Just as I open my mouth to reply, Preston covers it with his hand.

  “Nope, sorry Amanda’s on a timeout right now, on account she almost assaulted someone, so she’s not allowed to speak for a bit, anyway,” Preston lies. “I did hear they were going to make an appearance at the same restaurant as us tonight, though.”

  My breathing becomes rapid as the understanding of what he is saying becomes painfully clear. We aren’t going to dinner as Preston and Amanda; we are going as Brad and Angelina.

  Kristin and Brad exchange shocked looks as I mumble under my breath, “Challenge accepted.” And to my surprise I see Preston’s face light up into the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I stare at the dress in horror then pace in front of it. Each time I steal a glance at it, I get nervous all over again. Preston went shopping earlier and, unbeknownst to me, bought an Angelina look-alike dress. He did a pretty good job. The black leather dress somehow looks classy, and the neckline isn’t too low, but the slit up the side isn’t as modest. People will definitely be able to see all the way up. Let's just hope there's no strong wind because everyone will be getting a nice show.

  “You ready yet?” Preston calls as he knocks on my bedroom door.

  My heart is pounding out of my chest. We lied to Kristin and Brad. We told them we were too tired to go to dinner, and they were more than excited to have a dinner-date on their own. The plan is to wear sunglasses throughout the night so nobody suspects anything different; it should work, considering we’re eating so early there will probably only be people over the age of sixty as dinner partners.

  With shaky hands, I unzip the dress and slide it on. I do a little twirl in the mirror and gasp. It’s shocking how much I resemble Angelina. She is a lot taller; she also has tattoos, which Preston is convinced he can draw on me with a sharpie. We’ll see about that. But I can easily pass for her shorter twin. This is something I never noticed before.

  All in all, I feel like I look alright. I did my makeup as best I could and put on the strappy high heels Preston bought with the dress. As I open my bedroom door, I gasp. I am face-to-face with Brad Pitt, and I don’t mean he kind of resembles Brad Pitt. No, he is channeling him right now. He has styled his hair in a sloppy fashion, let his five-o'clock shadow grow a little on his face, and don’t even get me started on the tan. He’s wearing a khaki suit resembling something I saw off "Ocean’s Eleven" and is now holding his hand out for me.

  Why am I shaking? There’s no way I’m going to be able to do this, let alone look at him all evening without letting my jaw drop. He has me do a little twirl before he smiles and kisses me on the cheek. My tongue goes numb; therefore, speech isn’t an option right now.

 
; He breaks the silence “You look absolutely stunning.”

  And I think he means it because there is no smugness in his eyes, but there is something else I can’t identify.

  “Stop overanalyzing me and sit down,” Preston says, breaking the moment.

  I roll my eyes and sit. “What are you doing?” I ask as he pulls out a Sharpie. There was a brief glimmer of hope that perhaps he forgot about the tattoos I need to carry off the disguise.

  “She,” he says as the pen touches my skin, “only has two visible tattoos when she wears dresses like this.”

  I roll my eyes. “How would you know?”

  “TMZ,” he answers before finishing off the first tattoo.

  “I think I underestimate you.” I shake my head

  “You always do,” he retorts before starting on the next tattoo.

  Although I hate to admit it, this does feel kind of fun. He puts the Sharpie down and looks at my slit. He lets out a big sigh before letting his hand run on the inside part of my knee. It makes me want to jump on him, and I don’t know why. Sometimes he has that effect on me; either I want to kill him or I want to steal his virtue. This can’t be a good sign.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, assuming he thinks I look terrible, or he wouldn’t have such an upset look on his face.

  Preston leaves the room then returns within seconds with my heart.

  Kidding, it’s actually a needle and thread, but close enough.

  “We can’t have you walking around like that.” He points to the slit and begins sewing the top part of it down to make it less revealing.

  “What do you mean?” My words sound a little choppy since his touch makes me so nervous.

  “I mean,” his voice is now more intense, “I don’t want other men lusting after you tonight or undressing you with their eyes, so I’m going to remedy the situation.” He finishes the last stitch and ties a knot.

  “Where in the world did you learn to sew?” I ask flabbergasted.

  “Prison,” he answers with a wink.

  There’s the guy I’ve grown to love.

  Wait a second! Did I just say love? Ha! Not a possibility. At least I didn’t say it out loud.

  His fingers graze against my bare thigh, and I am seriously ready to pass out. With an apologetic look, he pulls the dress higher then starts sewing the slit down. Swear, each time his knuckles graze my skin I actually jump. The electricity from his touch is ridiculous. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m swaying toward him, my eyes heavy with desire.

  “There,” he says hoarsely. “How’s that feel?” His fingers don’t leave my thigh; instead, they dance around the inside, as if he’s playing with the idea of sliding them further up.

  “Good.” I sigh. “Really good.”

  His head snaps up; eyes lock on mine. It’s one of those moments I know I should take. One where the opportunity will be missed if I don’t do or say something.

  Instead, he makes the decision for me and pulls me to my feet, mumbling, “Perfect,” before releasing my hand.

  “Grab your sunglasses, Mrs. Pitt.” He winks.

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Pitt.” I laugh as he leads me out into the night.

  ***

  We walk arm-in-arm toward the restaurant. Keep my breathing even, that is my focus. But I fail. First off, I’m convinced that if we are caught, we are going straight to prison, no passing Go, no collecting two-hundred dollars. Second, I’m walking too close to Brad Pitt’s actual twin — any girl would feel nervous right now, except he is ridiculously cocky and— Ding ding ding! Elephant in the room! I rejected him, he could be playing with my heart, and he’s the best kisser on earth. I mean, I know that’s not something I can actually measure, but trust me on this.

  Remember, I tell myself, it’s still Preston.

  I close my eyes for a brief second, trying to conjure up the image of his nerdy form four years ago.

  When I open them again, I realize it’s hopeless.

  People stop eating as we enter the restaurant. I lock eyes with Kristin before looking down. Oh no. I know she notices me; she can tell. My face feels on fire as I look up again, but this time Kristin’s face is hiding excitement and pure celebrity awe. If my best friend can’t tell it’s me, we are safe.

  Preston asks the waiter if we could please sit outside. We are led by a few tables of people who have either pulled out their camera phones or choked on their food. I hold in a chuckle as we sit at the table outside. The waiter is visibly shaking as he pours us each a glass of the “best red wine in Maui,” as he so humbly put it, and hands us our menus.

  “This is weird,” I say through my smile to Preston.

  “Right?” he replies, taking a sip of his wine. “Wow, he wasn’t kidding about the wine.”

  “We should do this the rest of the week.” he says, putting down his glass and watching me as I nearly choke on the liquid in my mouth.

  “We’ll get caught!” I say

  “You mean to tell me this hasn’t been the most exciting night of your life?”

  Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Okay, fine. It’s been fun, but I’m too small for prison. They’ll eat me alive in there!”

  “I would,” Preston answers as he motions for the waiter.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I choke on my wine. Please, let it mean what I want it to mean.

  “You’ll see,” he says rather gruffly before ordering for us. We decided before we left to let him do the talking, since my voice would be a dead giveaway.

  Dinner was quite pleasant and uneventful. That is, until…

  “Hi! Um, like I saw you guys out at the pool. Do you like remember me from before?”

  “Oh, how could we forget?” Preston answers, annoyed “You’re the one who doesn’t know geography.”

  I choke on my water.

  “Oh, well,” she says twisting her hair around her finger. “It’s like, why would I even care when I have GSP?”

  “You mean GPS?” Preston asks.

  “Yeah, whatever. So look…” The girl is now rather close to us and lets her voice go down into a whisper. “I know you guys are like famous and all and whatever, but we are having this, like party at our room, and it would be super awesome if you could stop by.” She drops a piece of paper on the table with her room number and saunters off.

  “I fear for America,” I say as he picks up the piece of paper.

  “To our future.” Preston laughs as he lifts his wine glass in a toast to mine.

  Laughing, I think back on the odd day we just experienced.

  “Um, sorry to bother you,” the waiter says as he approaches our table. “But these were sent over for you, compliments of them.” He points to Kristin and Brad as he takes two glasses of champagne off his tray.

  “There is also a card.”

  I look at Preston and stifle a smile as he reads the card aloud, “From your biggest fans.”

  I burst into laughter but quickly feel bad as I see the hurt expression on Kristin’s face, so I pick up my champagne glass and make a toast to her. She returns the toast with a giant smile.

  “They’re going kill us when they find out,“ I say through clenched teeth.

  “Who says we’re going to tell?” Preston smiles as he pays the bill. He had cash on him so we didn’t have to worry about debit cards with the wrong names. That would be a fun headline: Brad Pitt — Identity Thief.

  All of a sudden, I hear clanking around the restaurant and turn to see everyone hitting their drinks with pieces of silverware and looking toward us.

  “They want us to kiss,” Preston says, laughing.

  “What do you mean? WHY?” I am now in a full state of panic.

  “I don’t know, but that’s what the clanking means. Are you going to let down your fans or accept the challenge, Miss Angelina?”

  “Watch this!” I say with bravery I never knew I possessed. I throw down my napkin, march over to where Preston is sitting, and pull him into the best kiss I ever gave. I was re
ady for my own reaction. I mean, the boy can kiss, but what I wasn’t ready for… was his.

  Instead of letting me go and releasing the kiss early, Preston pulls me into his lap and kisses me harder than I ever was kissed in my entire life. And every part of me tells me I need to put a stop to whatever it is that’s going on between us, but I can’t. So instead, I pull the collar of his shirt and arch my back as his hands slide down my body. With a grunt, he grabs the material of my dress and pulls me harder against him.

  He releases me, his green eyes smolder, and he whispers into my ear, “Told you so.”

  “What?” I am breathless.

  “I told you so… That you would kiss me before the end of the vacation.”

  “That doesn’t count,” I say, trying to keep the smile on my face.

  “Does too,” he argues.

  “Does not!” I say louder, then realize everyone is still staring. Leaning forward, I kiss him again on the cheek and saunter back over to my side of the table. “It was for the people. Not for you.”

  “Weird. Because that kiss felt like it was for you.” He stands and clasps my hand within his own and leads me down the stairs onto the beach.

  “Nope. I’m a good actress, remember? Golden-Globe-nominated.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  No, I’m not quite sure. Did she win? I shake my head and sit down in the sand. I need these painful shoes off now.

  Preston sighs and helps me with the strap, which is caught on my dress. He pulls off both shoes then hands them to me.

  I snatch them from his hands then calmly watch the waves as they crash onto the shore. “It’s beautiful,” I say, gaze glued on the majestic ocean.

  “I agree,” Preston answers as I turn to meet his face. Only he isn’t staring at the ocean.

  “Smooth,” I say, lifting an eyebrow. “Exactly how many movies have I seen the male lead do that? Oh, let me think — ALL OF THEM.” I am now pointing at him with my finger.

  “Says the girl who is being wooed,” Preston replies as he scoots closer to me.

  “That,” I say, continuing my judgmental point, “was not wooing. That was stealing. Be original.” I cross my arms. Wait. It sounds like I just asked him to pursue me.