I purse my lips, hiding my smile. “Hush, you. My tastes have evolved. My palate is much more eclectic.” I cross my arms and nod hard for good measure.
“Eclectic?” He chuckles. “You’re still something else.”
Still.
Ugh, hey there, Past. Good to see you.
My stomach churns and I dart my eyes away, smiling as the young blonde waitress walks up to our table.
“Hi, y’all. I’m Mandy and I’ll be serving you today. What can I get you?”
August smiles politely at Mandy and I can instantly see the flush on her cheeks as she takes in his appearance. Thankfully, we’re far out of the city and unless she’s read his book, she’s not likely to notice him. What she does notice is his stunning and gorgeous looks – I can’t fault her for that. “We’ll take a large pineapple, bacon and pepperoni pizza, please. Thank you.”
He ordered a pineapple pizza even though he hates it? Dammit. He’s such a southern gentleman.
He slides his eyes back down to me and I can tell by Mandy’s expression she wished he’d look at her just a little longer.
She writes our order down. “And to drink?”
“Oh, uh,” August says. “Sweet tea. Belle?” He blinks.
“I’ll take a sweet tea, as well, hon. Thanks.”
Mandy gives me one inquisitive look before spinning on her heel.
“Could you please get your good looks under control?” I exasperate, fanning myself mockingly. It feels so wonderful to joke with him again. If there was one thing I missed about us, it was our ability to laugh. At each other. Our jokes. At literally nothing at all.
August’s nose flares and he levels his eyes. “Can’t help it. Good genes.”
I sarcastically look under the table. “Mm-hmm.”
He grabs at his stomach, throwing his head back in a laugh. “I’ve missed your odd sense of humor, Belle.”
I tuck one of my feet under my legs. “It’s great to see you. When does shooting for the movie start?”
August blows air out of his nose. “Next week. Everyone is officially on board. All the documents are signed. Casting is supposed to be announced tomorrow.”
“Don’t they usually announce it way before?”
He unwraps the napkin around a set of utensils and places it on his lap. “I guess they wanted to keep it all hush hush until right before shooting.”
“Whoa,” I say, my eyes widening. “Can I get the inside info?”
Mandy appears with our drinks. “Here you go.” She sets down the glasses, giving August a smile and then turns away.
Grabbing the straw from the table, I quickly unwrap the top. Moving the paper off the straw just a bit, I put my lips on the end, aiming it at August. With a quick blow, the paper sails through the air, hitting August on the chin.
“Hey!” He laughs, picking up the paper, crinkling it and throwing it at me, striking my chest. “No one has done that to me in years.”
I throw the crumpled ball of paper down. “Well, you haven’t been living, my friend.”
August’s mouth turns down, his eyes falling to the table. Eyebrows furrowed, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You think…” He coughs. “You think we can be friends?”
He sounds so unsure as he pulls his hands up, knotting them.
I hesitate at first, uncertain how to respond. Do I want to be his friend? Of course. Will it hurt? Probably. Can I go the next few months knowing he’s back in town and not see him? I can lie and deny it all I want, like I have been for I-don’t-know-how-long, but I already know my answer.
Skimming my hand across the table, I clutch his. “I don’t think there’s any other choice, August.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, he smiles. Broad and warm. It heats me to my core, and it’s then I realize just how much I’ve missed him in my life. Not as a boyfriend – someone I loved wholeheartedly – but just as someone I trust. Someone, who, even before we became a couple was a great friend.
“I’ve missed you, too. I don’t think I can do this without you,” he says and I gulp.
He smiles wider now, his straight teeth overtaking his face. The skin on the corner of his mouth pushes on his cheeks, the smile lines firmly in place.
I pick up my tea, bringing the straw to my lips. “So about this inside movie information. Can you say who’s playing me?” My eyes expand at the possibility and I bounce a little in my seat. I’ve never allowed myself to be excited about our book being made into a movie, but now that he’s here and I’m allowed to be a small part of it, it’s kind of exciting.
“Oh, I don’t know…” he taunts, his strong jaw twitching. “You might know her. Does Sophia Amelie ring a bell?”
I sputter, dropping my drink, liquid splashing from the top. “Sophia Amelie?! August! She’s so big right now. How did you get her to sign on for it?”
August shrugs. “I don’t know. They asked her and a hundred other well-known actresses to come in. I saw her audition and loved it. It snowballed from there.”
I push my hair out of my face and readjust my glasses. “Whoa.”
He smiles, biting his lip. “Don’t you want to know who’s playing me?”
“I swear, if you make me beg, I’ll pull every one of your leg hairs out.”
August frowns. “Please don’t do that again.”
I laugh. Long story short, one day in high school, he made me angry, something utterly random, and as punishment he allowed me to pull out his leg hairs. I’ve never seen him in so much pain, and he broke his leg once our senior year. “Fine, fine. Tell me!”
“Jennings Cohen.”
My mouth falls open and I blink. “Shut. Up. No way! Jennings Cohen! You have to let me meet him.”
Jennings just recently won his third or fourth – I can’t remember – Oscar for his role in The King’s List.
August rolls his eyes playfully, chewing on the inside of his lip. “You know it’s a given.”
“Wow,” I breathe. “That’s massive, August. Jennings is the biggest actor in the world right now. Like, bigger than Chris Pratt, Johnny Depp and the Hemsworth brothers combined.”
“So they say. Even after all that drama about him living a double life, and going off to college, he’s still huge. We were lucky to get him, too. Apparently his wife, Whitley, read my book and loved it. Talked him into auditioning. Thank God he had the time to film. It all worked out pretty well.”
“You need to thank Whitley, apparently,” I say as Mandy sits our pizza down in front of us.
“I will. They’re supposed to be in town on Monday. I have to go to lunch with them and a some of the cast. Would you like to go? I’m sure having you there will help them with their characters and it’ll be nice to have a friendly face to keep me sane.”
I’m stunned silent. A lunch with some of the most prestigious and well-known actors in Hollywood? Somewhere, pigs are flying.
“Uh, yeah! I’d love to go.”
August pulls a slice of pizza from the pan, sliding the plate over to me. “Sounds great. I don’t know where it’ll be yet, but assume it’s black tie. Do you have a dress?”
My mind races and I smile when I recall buying something extra special a month ago at a little boutique just outside of Atlanta. “I think I’ve got it covered.” Picking up the steaming slice of heaven, I take a bite.
“Okay, perfect. It’s a date, then.”
A piece of pineapple gets lodged in my throat and I cover my mouth, coughing like I’ve lost a lung. I pound on my chest, but I’m not quite sure if I’m doing it because I’ve got a foreign object stuck in my throat or because he just called our dinner a date. Either way, when I finally regain my bearings, I look at him with wild eyes.
He reaches across the table, grasping my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I put my hand up, bobbing my head, unable to respond.
August lets go of me, grabbing for his pizza.
Just as I’m about to make another attempt at my slice, my phone b
uzzes.
Beau.
Crap.
I forgot to tell him I was going out with August.
Well, Look At That
August drops me off at the front of my apartment and I wait outside as he drives away. The exhaust from his tailpipe spits out a puff of black smoke and I laugh.
“Who was that?” Beau says behind me, making me jump out of my skin.
I grab at the cardigan on my arm, feeling cold. “It was – uh – it was August.”
Beau’s eyes narrow and he turns his head to watch August take a right turn toward the hotel just seven blocks away. “August? Why didn’t you tell me you were going out with him?”
I don’t have a good reason. I guess I was hiding it. “I’m sorry,” I say. I am. “I just agreed and went. I didn’t think about it.”
Beau’s face pinches. “We decided last night we were going to be in a relationship – a real relationship. You can’t just go off with your ex and not tell me, Cam.”
He’s breathing like a bull now, his olive skin growing slightly pink. His nostrils flare and the wind blows his hair out of his face.
I remain silent. I have no excuse. He has every right to be mad, but I also can’t be sorry for seeing August. Beau and I are still new; August and I have a history. I shouldn’t feel bad for seeing him.
“Are you going to see him again?”
Grabbing Beau’s hand, I pull him up the stairs into the entrance of my apartment complex. “Yes. He invited me to lunch with some of the cast.”
Beau stops, dropping my grasp. “So, that’s it? You’ve gone Hollywood? He asks you to go somewhere and you drop everything?”
Whoa. I’m not too fond of jealous Beau. I understand his anger, but there’s only so much say he has at this point in our relationship.
“I haven’t gone Hollywood.” I roll my eyes. “Lord. August asked me to come because half of the book-slash-movie is about me. He thought it would be good to meet the girl playing me. That way she can get some insight on who I am. How to play the character. That sort of thing.” We walk to the elevator, waiting for it to open.
“Oh, well,” he says behind me, walking through the doors when they ding. “I guess I can understand that.”
I turn to him, feeling slightly moody that he’s even questioning my motives. I push the button to my floor and the elevator rushes into the air after the doors close. When we arrive, I make fast work of my keys, walking to my apartment.
Once we’re inside, Beau closes the door behind him and I turn. “I hope you really do understand.” Then I huff, not wanting to have another argument about August. “Listen, he’s my friend, Beau. I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend and I have you.” I stand in front of him. Placing my hand on his cheek, he deflates the tiniest bit. “We’re friends. At least we want to try to be.” That’s what I want. “I need you to understand there’s no competition. He’s going to be here for the next few months. I’m going to see him. If you’d like, you guys can meet. You can see how it is. Maybe it’ll help ease your mind.”
Beau breathes in deep. “I think that would be a good idea.”
“I’ll set it up,” I say, dropping my hand, giving him a quick kiss on his jaw before walking to the kitchen to grab a shot of something strong.
I may jump around, obsessing about different food, but there’s one thing I’ve loved since I was old enough to drink it. Bourbon. It’s sort of my signature drink, and right about now, it’s calling to me.
Beau saunters behind me, sliding his hands around my waist when I stop in front of the cabinet holding the alcohol. “I’m sorry.” His hands tighten. “You’re mine, Cam. Mine. I know that sounds misogynistic and territorial, but I’m southern through and through. I can’t help it. It runs through my veins. My daddy was like that with my mom. I don’t like men stepping on what I consider my own.”
I don’t necessarily like to be considered property, but I get what he’s saying. I agreed to be his. I wouldn’t like it if some girl he used to date came back into his life, wanting to take over. I get it.
But…this is August we’re talking about, and for some damn reason, I can’t let him go. My want to explore something different – a friendship – with August is important.
“Okay,” is all I reply, taking a long swig of bourbon. The toasted oak and vanilla slides down my throat, warming my body instantly. It’s like a comforting hug after a long day. I’m not one to get drunk, but the slow rolling of a good bourbon sends me to a happy place. Swigging a couple long pulls from my glass, my senses finally warm up and I turn in Beau’s arms, leaning into him.
A husky grumble resonates deep within his throat and he pushes his hips into me. He thrusts lightly against my body and I tip my head back, closing my eyes.
Picking me up, he carries me to my bedroom, setting me down gently on the bed, and, as he strips the clothes from my body, he promises me things he probably shouldn’t.
Leaving me alone to grab a condom from the bottom drawer in my bathroom, I turn my head to look out the window. August’s face comes to mind and I wish I could stop myself from thinking of him. I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing at this very moment. Is he talking to his girlfriend? Does he have a smile on his face?
Then the library crosses my thoughts. Our spot.
Somewhere only we know.
The place that’s ours.
Row twelve, stack seven.
As Beau comes back to bed, talking against my skin, nipping and biting, I force my eyes away from the window, irritated at myself for even thinking about August at a time like this. Pinching my eyes shut, I close off the rest of the world – including August – and find my way back to Beau.
Because he wants me.
He fights for me.
Because he’s pretty much the furthest thing from August I can get.
Is it possible to outwardly glow? I’m standing outside my apartment, my buzzing body covered in a dark blue dress.
The production company couldn’t make lunch work so instead we’re doing dinner, which ultimately means the meeting with Jennings Cohen and Sophia Amelie is officially a formal affair. So much so that I had to go get my hair and makeup done earlier today. Not because I got the feeling August wanted me to – he would never tell me that – but because I wanted to feel pretty in a room full of obnoxiously beautiful people.
Jennings and Sophia in one room is going to be intimidating – even for a girl like me who’s happy with her appearance.
August’s beat-up red truck rolls up to the curb, stopping in front of me. He hops out of the driver’s side and jogs to the sidewalk. His sandy blonde hair is styled back with a bit with some gel. Just enough to look done up. He’s wearing his dark-rimmed, square glasses and the scruff on his face makes him look far manlier than I’d like to admit. He’s dressed in an ebony suit with a deep blue button up shirt. He looks beyond amazing and I flutter a little when I realize, even without intention, we match. His shirt is almost the exact same color as my dress.
Unlike how mainstream media portrays him; he’s not overly sexed up. He’s normal. He just wears his clothes damn well.
“Belle,” he greets, his feet hitting the pavement with silent thuds. “You look absolutely beautiful.” He stops to get a good look at me.
“You were the most beautiful girl at the dance, Brooke,” I promised as we walked out of the gymnasium, heading toward my car in the parking lot. Locked hand-in-hand, I’d never felt so high. Not from drugs, but from Brooke. With our prom King and Queen crowns bestowed on our heads, we were soaring.
Brooke looked down at the gravel asphalt below our feet and smiled, blushing her special coral color. “I can’t believe we won! Rush, how did that happen? You’re popular. Not me.”
I smiled and stopped walking, jutting her chin up to look at me. “This was your coming out. You’re officially popular.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “The last few months of school. Great…”
“Hey, you didn’t even have
to try.”
“I didn’t have to because you so easily loved me.”
I bit my lip, my tongue flicking out. “It’ll be my burden.”
Brooke’s head tilted to the side, the stars above us shining bright in her eyes. She looked more gorgeous that day than any other day before. With her hair out of its previously perfect up-do and makeup a mess, her beauty was a force to be reckoned with.
She didn’t even have to try.
She just…was.
August squeezes my hand, how he got ahold of it, I don’t know, I can’t remember. I was too immersed in the passage playing out in my memory.
“Hey, what are you thinking about, Belle?”
I smile and try to brush off this overwhelming sensation to tell him the truth. I want to be his friend. I don’t need him thinking I’m reminiscing about our past. “Nothing. You look fantastic!”
He puffs his chest and pulls at his jacket. “I look like a stuffy writer.”
I roll my eyes and walk behind him as he guides me to his truck. “Shut it. You wear a suit all the time.”
“Because the publisher wants to sell me as this sex god.” He opens the door to his truck, which creaks just as I remember. “I don’t understand why I can’t wear jeans and a t-shirt.”
“You’re a brand now, August.”
His lips purse and he closes my door, jogging to the driver’s side and sliding in behind the wheel. “I just write stories. That’s it. I don’t know what the big deal is.”
“You write amazing stories.”
He pulls out of his parking spot. “I wrote one amazing story.”
Damn straight he did.
I watch as the ancient buildings pass by in a blur outside my window, a thought dawning on me. “Do you think they’re sexing you up because you haven’t turned in your second book?”
His eyebrows shoot up into his forehead and then they fall into a grimace. “Probably. Can’t sell the writer, might as well sell sex.”
“How much have you turned in?”
He gulps, turning on his blinker to turn onto Fuller. “Five chapters.” He whispers the words and I can feel his embarrassment.
Who Needs Air Page 5