by Dahlia Adler
“Hey, where’d you go? I thought you might stick around after you dropped my stuff off, but you totally disappeared.”
“Sorry, hun. It’s just been a long day. I felt like crashing.” It wasn’t technically a lie—I did leave with the intent to go home—but I just didn’t feel like telling her about my conversation with Liam. It was too private, and worse, I knew she’d be on my ass in half a second with that “crush” crap again. “Where are you, anyway?” I asked, both eager to change the conversation and genuinely curious. “I thought you were going to that ‘Save the Sea Otters’ thing.”
“I am; I’m in the limo, waiting for the rest of the cast to join me. Well, everyone but Liam. He handed me a check to pass along and mumbled something about not feeling well. I shouldn’t be surprised, right?”
Not after the emotional wringer I put him through. “Well, parties aren’t everyone’s thing,” I said lamely.
“I don’t know. He seemed extra weird tonight. I asked him if he’d seen you around and he just kind of stared at me.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to take that, but it didn’t matter, because before I could respond, Van was rolling again. “Are you sure you want to go to bed? I could definitely get you into this thing if you wanna join.”
I laughed. “I am very, very sure. Please send my love to the sea otters.”
“What about this weekend? Carly and I got invites to that super-cute Reese Witherspoon rom-com premiere Friday night. Wanna be my plus-one?”
“Did you actually get a plus-one?”
“No,” she huffed, “but I’ll bet you anything Liam would be happy to give up his ticket.”
Liam again. On the one hand, I was dying to talk about him, and on the other hand, every time Van mentioned his name I felt sick to my stomach. Why was it that no matter how many times I ordered myself not to think about him, the universe seemed to have other plans? No chance I was subjecting myself to an evening of hanging out with his castmates. If I was going to get over my stupid crush, I was going to need to spend this weekend distracting myself with something completely un-Liam-related.
And then I remembered.
“Actually, I have plans Friday night.” Not that Nate had actually mentioned Macy Easton’s party again. “Just a little Hayden party, but I told Nate I’d go with.”
“Nate, huh?” I could practically hear her eyebrows waggling over the phone. “You guys really are getting tight these days.”
I snorted. “Please. Not only am I the furthest thing from interested in Nate Donovan, but you know as well as I do that his heart is otherwise occupied. Now he would love to be your date at the Reese Witherspoon premiere.”
Van laughed. “I’ll keep that in—ooh! Carly and Jamal are here. I gotta go. I’ll see you on set tomorrow.”
She hung up before I could say, “See you then.”
9
NEITHER NATE NOR I BROUGHT Macy’s party up once during the rest of the week, and by the time things wound down on set Friday evening, it was obvious he was going to be partying with Macy and the other cheerleaders on his own. That was the thing about Nate—he liked to talk big, but he kind of sucked at follow-through. Even if I’d managed to get him a date with Van, I had a feeling he would’ve dropped the ball on planning it and ended up partying at a friend’s house instead.
Not that I was much better. Sure, I could’ve said something, but when it came down to it, pretending to be interested in Macy and Co.’s play-by-play of the last football game (and accompanying cheers, of course) didn’t sound all that much more fun than wallowing in front of the TV while lamenting the fact that I was nursing a crush on a guy who was eons out of my league.
It was almost a shame about the party, though, because as much as I didn’t feel like hanging out with a bunch of classmates I didn’t really know, I also had zero other plans for the evening. Van was at the premiere, Dana and Leni were on a double date, and even Lucy was having a sleepover with her friends. How lame did I have to be to have a less exciting night planned than my ten-year-old sister?
I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and headed out of Van’s trailer, where I’d been simultaneously handling interview requests on my phone while answering her e-mails on the wafer-thin laptop she kept plugged in by her makeup mirror at all times. In my rush to get the hell off the set and into some comfy sweats for a night of TV watching, I nearly walked smack into Liam, who was walking toward the trailer he shared with Jamal.
“Oú est le fire, mon amie?” he asked, showing off his newly expanded vocab, compliments of yet another tutoring session the night before. “I’m guessing you’ve got some fun and exciting weekend plans.”
If only I were a better liar—or actor—I would’ve loved to pretend to Liam that I was actually cool enough to have something to do tonight other than park myself on the couch. “Le feu,” I corrected him automatically, “and nope, just heading home. You? Going to another orgy?”
He laughed. “Nope, just kicking back and learning my lines for a guest spot I have coming up on one of those CSIs. Almost as exciting, but not quite.”
“Need help?” I offered. I regretted it instantly. That was not going to help my resolve to stop thinking about him. Not to mention that my tendency to say stupid things always seemed to kick in around Liam, and my habit of oversharing even worse. Now I was going to have to listen to him awkwardly make up a reason to reject my assistance.
“Sure, if you’ve really got nothing better to do.”
Or he could say that.
“I just need to shower and grab a few things,” he added. “Do you mind waiting in my trailer for a few?”
Waiting in his trailer…while he got completely naked. Yeah, I could probably handle that. “Sure,” I croaked.
He must’ve noticed a trace of anxiety on my face because he said, “There’s a comfortable couch, I promise.”
Ha, yes, Liam, because that’s what I was worried about—that the couch five feet away from where water will be spraying your naked body wouldn’t be comfortable enough.
I followed him into the trailer and sat down on the couch, gratefully accepting the water bottle he tossed me from the mini-fridge. It was a nice trailer, though he hadn’t added nearly as much décor as Van had. The only personal touches were a magnet on the fridge in the shape of a koala bear; a black iPod plugged into a pair of speakers; and two framed pictures—one of a woman I assumed was his mother and the other of Liam, Josh, and a third guy who looked vaguely familiar. I squinted at the picture. Was that Shannah Barrett in the background?
“Trying to figure out where you know Wyatt from?” asked Liam. “He’s in that commercial with the dancing bottle of mustard. He’s also Josh’s cousin.”
“Ah, gotcha. My dad loves that commercial. Dancing condiments always crack him up.”
“How’s he doing?”
Oh, yeah. I’d somehow managed to forget that Liam knew about my dad. “Fine, for now. He goes back in for round two of treatment in a week.”
“Does he have to stay in bed the whole time between treatments?”
“Nah, he just needs a couple days to recover, and then he goes back to work. I mean, I’m sure he feels like crap, but it makes him happy to get out of the house.”
“That’s cool.” He toed off his shoes and placed his watch on the small table next to the couch. He started to pull off his shirt, which probably would’ve sent me into embarrassing conniptions, but then he dropped the hem and grinned. “Can’t risk you selling any more of the clothing off my back, now can I?” He winked and walked into the bathroom.
I exhaled sharply as soon as he was gone. Liam had to know that I had a, um, slight attraction to him. Was he torturing me to be a jerk? Or was he so used to turning on every woman in sight that he no longer even realized when he was doing it?
The shower turned on, and I tried not to focus on the fact that Liam had stripped down on the other side of the wall. Instead, I distracted myself by staring at the picture again, at how seaml
essly Shannah Barrett blended into the background, how perfect and Hollywood she looked with her deep tan and stick-straight blond hair. My stupid red-brown mutt of a hair color was so freaking Anytown, U.S.A., and my skin could never approach that shade of golden in a million years. I made for a lousy California girl.
I was so busy seeing everything wrong with myself in that picture that I didn’t hear the shower turning off or Liam exiting the bathroom. I didn’t even realize he was standing a few feet away from me until he interrupted the silence in the room by asking, “You’re really into that picture, aren’t you? Lemme guess—you wanna bang Josh Chester like every other chick in the world?”
I had to bite my lip to keep from cracking up at that notion. “I can very, very safely say no to that question. I mean, no offense to your friend,” I said quickly. “He’s just…not my type.”
“So what do you keep staring at?” asked Liam, sliding on his watch. “Don’t tell me I have something in my teeth.”
There was no non-awkward way to respond to the fact that I’d been caught staring, so I just went with the truth. “I was checking out Shannah Barrett, actually.”
“Oh. Oh. I didn’t realize you were, uh—”
“Stop right there,” I cut him off. “Not a lesbian. Just envying her hair.”
He snorted. “You could pay for that hair, too, you know. Also her tan, her nose, and her boobs.”
“Wow.” I whistled. “I thought you guys were friends.”
“I’m not revealing anything that isn’t obvious if you look at a picture of her from three years ago. But we aren’t really friends, no. What made you think we were?”
Fair question. What I’d actually thought was that he wanted to sleep with her, just like every other living, breathing, heterosexual male in existence. I said as much.
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you think my type is?”
I shrugged. “What, hot? Isn’t that everyone’s type?”
He shook his head slowly. “She’s certainly not my idea of hot.”
“And what is, then?” I challenged. “Zoe? Van?”
“Zoe doesn’t look all that different from Shannah, and no offense to your friend, but I’m not into Van either.” He leaned against the wall of the trailer and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you think we’re all just incestuous or what?”
“I think that when you’re a Hollywood star, everyone else must look like a troll,” I replied, trying and failing to keep the edge out of my voice. “You may not like what comes with being hot, but it’s not always so fun being a normal person around Hollywood people either.”
“Hey, I get—”
“No, you don’t,” I cut him off harshly. I knew I was being mean—unfair, even—but looking at him standing there, water droplets glistening in his hair, tan skin still slightly flushed from the heat of the shower, worn T-shirt clinging to his biceps, I felt all the frustration of the pointlessness of my attraction to him race through my body. “You don’t even appreciate any of this. You’re not remotely grateful about winning the genetic lottery. All you have to do is smile or lift your shirt and someone will give you every damn thing in the world. You don’t have to worry about money, or not being able to get the girl you want, or having something to do on a Friday night. The world is yours and you don’t even fucking want it.”
“Wow, Ally, that’s a lot of truth coming out at once. So not only do you think I’m a shitty actor, but you think I’m a spoiled brat, too.”
I blanched, all the anger and frustration suddenly sapping out of my system. Jesus, I was a bitch. “Liam, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“Yeah, you obviously fucking did.” His beautiful eyes blazed with anger, and it was obvious from the set of his jaw that he was still holding back.
“I don’t think you’re a shitty actor,” I said quietly. “And I don’t think you’re a spoiled brat. I’m just going through a seriously weird time and I keep waiting for something good to happen and it just…doesn’t.”
“What are you doing to turn things around?” he asked coldly. “Besides railing on the people who try to help you and get to know you.”
I buried my head in my hands. “God, I’m sorry, okay? I’m an asshole. I don’t even know why I’m being an asshole. It’s just easier to get angry at you than to—” Jesus, shut up, Ally! My stomach suddenly turned at the realization that I’d almost admitted to Liam that I liked him. For the millionth time, it hit me what a stupid cliché I was, having a thing for Liam Holloway. “Sorry, I need to get out of here.”
I started toward the door, but in a flash, Liam had blocked my way.
“Enough leaving, Ally. How is it that you’re practically fluent in French but can’t seem to finish a damn sentence in English? Do you hate me that much?”
I looked at him in disbelief. “Do I hate you? Are you kidding me?”
“You think I’m an ungrateful asshole who uses his looks to get what he wants, just because he can. Am I close?”
Yes, he was close—so close that his scent was making me dizzy. So close I could practically feel the heat of his skin. So close I seriously needed to get out of there before I did something incredibly stupid like lean forward three inches and close the space between our lips.
“Ally?”
Lord, I’d completely forgotten that he’d asked me a question. Not that it was my fault. He was the one flustering the hell out of me, as usual. “What do you even care what I think, Liam? There are about a zillion websites you could go to or magazines you could open that are full of disgustingly positive opinions of you. What does it even matter what I think?”
“It matters.”
“Why?” I pressed.
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
My heart was pounding now. Yes, he still looked angry, but the anger in his eyes was mixed with something else, and I was dying to know what. “And what have you come up with?” I managed.
He was quiet for a minute, and then he said, “A theory.”
“A theory,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“About me? Or about you?”
He fixed me with a hard stare, and whatever it was competing with anger in his eyes took over; it looked strangely like lust. “About the fact that somehow, every time you yell at me, it only makes me want you more.”
Heart. Pounding. “Liam—”
That time, it was Liam who didn’t let me finish my sentence; his mouth was on mine before I could even finish breathing his name. I was so shocked by the kiss that it took me a moment to react, but only a moment. As my arms reached up to encircle his neck and pull him even closer, there was no denying that I’d wanted this for weeks.
After a minute, he pulled away, and I was sure he was going to put an end to it all, but then there he was again, gently sucking my lower lip between his teeth before slipping his tongue between my lips to claim mine. My fingers brushed his soft, damp hair before digging into his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer, as if breathing each other’s air wasn’t enough. Finally, he pulled away, for real this time.
I could only imagine how I looked—hair a mess, eyes glazed over, lips swollen—and I prayed it somehow looked sexier in real life than it did in my head. Not that it mattered. Liam liked me. Liam. Liked me.
Maybe.
“So, that theory of yours…” I said slowly.
“Proven beyond a shadow of a doubt,” said Liam, cupping my face and kissing me again, lightly this time.
“The theory wasn’t that if you told me you liked me, I’d kiss you, was it?”
He cracked a smile that warmed me to my toes. “You’re ridiculous, Ally, you know that?”
“But I’ve been a crazy, manic jerk,” I sputtered. “And I cried in front of you. And I’m not—”
Liam kissed me silent. “Yes, you have been kind of a jerk. And I like that you cried in front of me. And I like who you are. And I definitely like who you’re not. Will you just accept that I�
�m into you and give me some sort of clue as to whether or not it’s mutual?”
“If I haven’t given you any clues then I’m a lousy kisser.”
He grinned and hooked an index finger through the belt loop of my jeans, pulling me closer. “You are most certainly not that,” he breathed as he leaned in to kiss me again.
10
EVENTUALLY, WE GOT OURSELVES OUT of the trailer and moved on to Liam’s apartment, where we preceded to talk and make out (but mostly make out) for another few hours. When we finally took a breather long enough for me to check my watch, I was shocked to see that it was almost midnight.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “How the hell did it get so late?”
“Everything okay?” Liam asked, adjusting his jeans. He looked slightly dazed, which was unspeakably adorable. The idea that I could get a “teen heartthrob” all hot and bothered was an admittedly confidence-inspiring one.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, raking a hand through my tangled hair. “Just hoping my parents aren’t freaking out that I’m not home yet. Plus,” I added with a smile, “we haven’t actually worked on your lines yet.”
“Forget the lines,” said Liam, snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me into him as he leaned back into the corner of the couch. He kissed the top of my head, making my stomach do that fluttery thing it’d been doing a whole lot of lately. “You’re my break from all that crap.”
“You do realize you met me at work, right? And that I’ll be there again on Monday?”
“Yes, and I’m very grateful and all that, but that’s it. We wrap up shooting on the pilot next week, and then we can just be normal. Better than normal,” he amended. “Awesome.”
“I don’t know if I can live up to awesome.”
“You can definitely live up to awesome,” Liam assured me, seeking out my hand with his free one and lacing his fingers through it. “Seriously, Ally, you make my day not suck, and that’s no small thing.”
I burst out laughing. “Is that what passes for high praise these days?”