Make Me Yours

by Charity Ferrell

  I run my hands over my face. “I can’t. Sorry. I wish you the best, Cameron, and I hope you find whatever happiness you’ve been searching for.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Stella

  “Oh fuck,” Willow says, staring at her phone like she got a notification we’re about to be murdered. “Fuckity fuck!”

  Willow has been staying with me for the past week to sulk together and hold daily meetings in our, “we got our asses dumped” fan club. I won’t let her go back to her apartment because I hate being alone. We go shopping. We do yoga. We are trying to do everything to keep our minds off the men we loved but weren’t right for us. Some days it works. Some days it doesn’t.

  The nights are what tear me apart. Thoughts and memories of Hudson haunt me, keeping me up until the morning, and making me feel like I’m an idiot for not trying to get in touch with him. I haven’t even washed my sheets because they still smell like him. It’s gross, I know, but I’m an obsessed woman.

  I’m also a scared one.

  I’m scared he’ll reject me.

  He’s the one that asked me to leave.

  He’s the one that broke things off with me.

  He’s the one who didn’t want to wait until I could figure out a way to get out of my contract.

  But I can’t help but feel most of the blame. I was selfish to pursue him when I knew he couldn’t be mine and that I couldn’t be his.

  “What are you freaking out about over there?” I ask, shoving another bite of ice cream in my mouth while slowly walking on the treadmill. It’s three in the morning, and this is what we’re doing. I’ve officially become a loser.

  “You’re going to want to see this.” She steps off the bicycle to hold up her phone my way and hits the play button.

  A video starts. I trip on my feet, my delicious ice cream falling to the tiled floor, and stare at the screen unblinking when I see Hudson on it. He’s sitting in what looks like a bar arguing with a woman – a woman who I’m certain is Cameron.

  “She was never with him!” he screams. “It was a publicity stunt for their new movie together. They never touched each other behind closed doors. They never shared a bed! Nothing! She did all of that with me!”

  The image is blurry, but there’s no doubt it’s him. I’ll never forget his husky voice. My hand flies to my mouth, and I’m sure that Rocky Road is about to come up. I sit down and try to control my breathing.

  Oh. My. Fucking. God.

  Hudson’s word vomit just ruined my career in thirty seconds.

  “I’m just going to throw this out there,” Willow says, smiling. “But I’m pretty sure ol’ boy is talking about you.”

  “You think?” I snap.

  “I’m also pretty sure the world knows who he’s talking about, given that it’s all over the internet right now.” She pulls the phone away so I can’t watch it again. “You’re even a trending hashtag.”

  Fuck me.

  I pull my phone from my pocket and open the Twitter app. “Seriously?” I yell when I see it. It’s #StellaDoesntShareBeds. “Who comes up with this shit?”

  “It’s the internet. A guy banging a McChicken went viral. Your hashtag is lame compared to others.”

  “People have way too much time on their hands.”

  “Who’s the chick?”

  “The ex.” I hate that she was there with him. That video is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, and I’m going to think about her each time I have to hear about it.

  Willow scrunches up her nose. “I wish she were uglier.”

  “You and me both.” Why was he hanging out in a bar with her? I know we broke up, and I know I’m still fake dating Eli, but it still hurts.

  “He did something you haven’t had the balls to do for weeks now. Make a public statement and stand up for your relationship.”

  “He was drunk. If he were sober, it would’ve never happened.” I slump down on the floor, and she sits down across from me. “What do I do?” My phone starts ringing before I get an answer. I hold it up to show her the call. “And it gets worse. Tillie is already calling to rip my head off.”

  “That troll always seems to know everything as soon as it happens. I think she has a tap on our phones or something. She’s like the NSA. Fucking psychopath.”

  “What do I do?” I ask again.

  She perks up and rests her hands in her lap. “First things first. You need to decide if you love the dude or not.”

  I go silent. I can’t seem to form the words to answer her question. It’s like they’re stuck in my throat as I try to come down from my freak-out. My head is pounding so hard it’s making me lightheaded.

  Am I pissed at Hudson for doing that?

  Or more relieved?

  I’m not sure.

  Willow snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to my best friend. Are you in love with the dude or only missing his sex organ?”

  I rub at my throat. “Do you think I’d be freaking out this much if I didn’t?” I whisper. She scoots in closer to give me a hug. “I’m scared, Willow.”

  Her face softens as she pulls away. “Scared to love him?” I nod. “Sweetie, don’t be afraid to love someone. Love is one of the biggest risks we take because we don’t know if it’s going to thrive or burn to the ground and take us along with it. But the risk is worth the sting. I can promise you that.”

  I start to fan my face with my hand to fight off the tears. “I know.”

  She rubs her hands together. “So …”

  “I don’t want to keep waking up without him.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Hudson

  I walk into my parent’s house with a blasting headache and a hangover from hell. My bright idea of washing my feelings for Stella away with whiskey didn’t work out in my favor. That old pal made me a fucking idiot for the entire world to see. I never wanted to be in the spotlight, never wanted people to know my business, and now I have my phone and email flooded with people offering me money for the inside scoop on Stella’s life.

  Fucking scavengers.

  Dallas sent me the link to the video this morning, and I had to refrain from throwing my phone across the room. My temples throbbed with rage. I wanted to put the blame on Stella for this mess. It would’ve never happened if I didn’t start fucking around with her, but I know the truth. It’s unfair of me to blame her for my dumbass getting drunk and opening my big fat mouth.

  “Good morning, idiot,” Lauren says when I walk into the kitchen. She narrows her eyes at me in disapproval and slides her plate of half-eaten eggs to the middle of the table. “I saw your obliterated ass on TMZ. Way to keep our family name classy. We were like the Kennedys of Bluebeech but your behavior has moved us to the lines of the Kardashians. People want to know all of our business, but the respect is gone.”

  “Don’t start your shit,” I grumble, making myself a cup of coffee. I snuck out of Dallas’ to avoid getting his interrogation. Plus, Maven started off her morning living it up with her karaoke machine. Kid’s Bop and hangovers don’t go well together. And I have to talk to my mom before the mother gang here bombards her on how bad her son is misbehaving.

  “Oh, I’m just getting started. If you didn’t want to hear my mouth, maybe you should’ve used your pint-sized brain before getting wasted off your ass and bringing attention to our family like this. I swear on everything, if you give mom a heart attack, I will cut you.”

  “Chill out. Mom isn’t going to have a heart attack. You’re overreacting.” She snorts. “This shit will blow over when the next scandal of a celebrity banging someone else breaks out. Trust me, I might be popular here, but I’m irrelevant in Hollywood.”

  “Not that bad? Is that why we’ve had several phone calls from reporters? Mom took the phone off the hook and is in the other room reading the Bible so she doesn’t have another child breaking people’s vows.”

  “They aren’t married. Hell, they aren’t even dating.”

  “And
now we’ll add liar to your home wrecker title.”

  I sit down. “Lauren, I was telling the truth in that video. They were never dating.”

  “So they were really faking a relationship?” I nod. “Why the hell would anyone do that?”

  “For their career. Publicity. Hype.”

  She scrunches her face up in disgust. “Sounds like a hooker move to me.” I sigh, remembering the similar conversation I had with Stella about her arrangement. “You have some bad luck in relationships. You might want to change your type or switch teams.”

  “Says the girl who’s also single,” I fire back.

  “Hey! My current relationship status is trying to get out of student loan debt and make enough money to survive.”

  I get up to grab some ibuprofen from the cabinet and fill up a glass of water. “Don’t you have a home?”

  “Yes, but mom always makes me breakfast.”

  “What are you twelve?” I ask, swallowing down the pills.

  “Says the guy crashing in his brother’s basement.” Smartass seems to be a gene that runs in my family.

  I rub the back of my neck trying to remove some of the tension. Lauren’s ass sure as hell isn’t helping in the hangover healing. She might be worse than Kid’s Bop. “I have a great idea. How about you eat in silence?”

  “You’ve already turned into quite the diva for your short time in Hollywood.” She laughs. “You didn’t choose the starlet life. The starlet life choose you.”

  “Enough!” I yell, slamming my glass down, my anger getting the best of me. “Just let it go.”

  She holds her hands up. “Shit … sorry. I was only trying to make light of the situation.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, too.” I collapse in the chair next to her again. “I feel like I’m going nuts, and I don’t know what to do. I wish I would’ve never taken that goddamn job.”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “With Stella?” She nods. “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” I stay silent. “I swear I won’t give you shit for it.” I snort. “I want you to find love, especially after what Cameron did to you. If you think this chick is it for you, then I’m all for you fighting for her. But if it’s not, if it was only about sex, walk away. Our family can’t go through any more stress right now. Only proceed further if your feelings are real. I care about you – not your genitals.”

  I scrub my hand over my face and groan. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Why doesn’t it matter if you’re in love with her?”

  “Our lives are complete opposites. All of that being in magazines and people shoving cameras in your face isn’t what I want in my life. I want to stay in Bluebeech. She doesn’t.”

  “Have you even asked her or are you just assuming?”

  “It’s over. She made her choice. Now drop it.”

  “Hudson …”

  I can’t handle this conversation right now. I’m growing more nauseated with every second. “Drop it,” I say, my voice stern. “If I don’t hear the name Stella again the rest of my life I’ll be a happy man. I worked for her temporarily. We screwed a few times. It was nothing serious. We were both bored and needed something fun to do.”

  “Keep trying to convince yourself that, but I know you. You don’t do casual encounters. You don’t screw a girl and not care about her. That’s not my brother.”

  “Maybe it is now.”

  “You look like shit,” Dallas says when I walk in.

  The sucky thing about being close with your siblings is that they’re all under the impression they can jump into your business and tell you what to do. It’s annoying as fuck, even though I know they have my best intentions at heart.

  I debated with myself on whether to drink away my sorrows again, but after what happened last night, it’ll be awhile before I show my face there again.

  “Really?” I ask. “Because I feel fucking fantastic.”

  He slides a beer across the coffee table to me when I collapse onto the couch. If I can’t go to the bar, at least I have him here to bartend and get me hammered.

  I hold the bottle out in front of me and take a good look at it. “How come whenever the brain and the heart fight it’s always the liver that suffers?” I ask.

  “Because it’s the easiest place to take our anger out on,” Dallas answers, kicking his feet up on the table. “You talked to her?” I shake my head. “She didn’t reach out about the video?”

  “I wouldn’t know even if she has. I turned my phone off to ignore the endless phone calls. I’m changing my number tomorrow.”

  “Maybe you should call her?”

  “Fuck no. She made her choice.”

  “Did she? Or did you see a stupid magazine headline and push her away because of it? Didn’t you give her the ultimatum of you or her career?”

  “No, it was me or Eli. I’d never force her to give up her career. I only told her I wouldn’t be the other man. Don’t sit there and act like you wouldn’t have done the same thing. Yes, I did give her an ultimatum, which shouldn’t be used in relationships, but this situation was different. I’d never force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. She knew that they’d rip me apart for that article. She knew how I felt about cheating.” I look up at him. “Did you know?”

  “About her and Spencer?” I nod. “I was there.” I tighten my fingers around the beer bottle. “Not in the room, but they were at a club, both of them wasted. Her and her boyfriend had been fighting. One thing led to another, and they left together. She went to her room, and I went to mine.”

  “And he went to her room with her?”

  “I didn’t follow them, but I’m assuming so.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s not my story to tell, and if I recall correctly, you sat in my kitchen saying it wasn’t anything serious between the two of you. If you weren’t in a relationship, why did it matter? It was in her past, Hudson. She was young, drunk, and desperate for affection. Her ex was off touring the world and flirting with thousands of women a night. There was a different story about him cheating on her every other day, and she could barely get him on the phone sometimes. Don’t hold one mistake over her head. Talk to her. Fix this. You two seemed happy together.”

  “I could never make her happy.”

  “Shut the fuck up and quit wallowing in your self-pity.”

  “I can’t give her what those other men can. I don’t have access to jets. I can’t buy a ten thousand square foot home or extravagant gifts. That’s Stella’s type, and that will never be me. I was a fuck toy while she couldn’t have a real boyfriend.” I’m whining like a little bitch.

  His voice lowers. “Stella isn’t like that. She won’t expect that from you. She loves you. You love her.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

  “Don’t bullshit me.”

  “Would I be this upset if I was trying to bullshit you?”

  “Brother, take my word, wasting time on love because of fear is a mistake. You never know how long you have until it’s gone. Do it for me. Do it for Lucy. Let love into your heart again before you end up losing it.” He starts crying – bawling like I’ve never seen him before and wipes his eyes. “All I have to say is right now I’m encouraging love for everyone around me because I know what it makes you feel. Even in the short time I had with Lucy, it was like a dream come true. My dream life that ended up in a nightmare. I wouldn’t change it for anything, though. Time isn’t something that’s promised to anyone – no matter how rich, how young, or how healthy you are. You can lose everything in a blink of an eye. Don’t let it hold you back.”

  I gulp, nervous to dispel the word vomit coming my way. I finish off my beer to give me courage. “I’m having dreams again. They stopped when I was with Stella for some reason, but now they’re back.”

  Dallas sits back to look at me with hooded eyes. “Shit, brother. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s emb
arrassing. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old man having nightmares.”

  “There’s nothing embarrassing about PTSD, Hudson. Not one damn thing. You want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll get through it. Just know I’ve got your back, and I know you’ve got mine. No matter what bullshit life throws us, we’ve got this.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Stella

  I grab my phone from my lap. “Should I text him?” I stammer out. “I should text him.”

  I’m in New York for an awards show. Not only is our film nominated for a few categories, but I’m up for best couple with Eli. My stomach has been in knots all morning. Per the contract that is ruining my life, I have to walk the red carpet with Eli arm and arm, faking again. Even with all the shit that’s gone down, the pictures of me and Hudson leaking, our team still hasn’t grown some balls and put out a statement that we’re not an item. We still have to partake in this charade.

  Nominated or not, I’m not looking forward to this.

  Each day I’m locked into this mess I realize it wasn’t worth it. I turned my back on someone who’d made me his top priority – something that no one else in my life has ever done.

  And in return, I chose my fears and career over him.

  Joan, my makeup artist, grabs my chin and holds it in place. “What you should do is stay still before he gets the call from a one-eyed chick because she couldn’t stop moving long enough for me to finish her eyeliner,” she scolds.

  “No, you shouldn’t text him,” Willow says in a disapproving tone. “You should call him. Texting is cowardly in situations like this. Words can be misinterpreted. Texting is for late night booty calls or telling your asshole ex they were the worst sex of your life. Not for confessing your love and apologizing. Pull your panties up. Hit his name. Tell him how you feel before it’s too late and he finds some cowgirl out there with honeysuckle straw hanging out of her mouth.”