by Maggie Marr
“I know,” Sheryl said. “It’s never easy.”
“It’s sad and amazing, and—” I looked up from wiping my eyes and met Dillon’s gaze. He stared at me. His face contained this shadow of vulnerability and pain, but with this inner light like he totally realized he’d just gotten to do the most amazing thing for a little boy.
“Thank you, Sheryl,” Dillon said and stuck out his hand.
“Of course. I’ll call you again sometime next week.”
Dillon nodded and we both walked back toward the elevator bank. We got onto the elevator without a word. I started to think about Matty and Brokaw and his mom and his dad and what Dillon had just done, and my bottom lip started to tremble with the thought of Matty’s life and how it might be short, but Dillon had just impacted it in this amazing and huge way and he—
“Dillon, I… I mean, that was amazing to watch and—”
He spun on his heels and his eyes met mine and they were wet and desperate and filled with this bottomless pain—our gazes locked and then in an instant he grabbed my arms and his lips were on mine.
Dillon
I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to. I didn’t want to hurt Lane. I didn’t want to draw her into my insane world. I wanted her to read for me this summer and then go back to Kansas where she could meet someone good for her, someone who would take care of her, but when I looked in her eyes and saw that she understood, I wanted to keep her for myself. She understood how hard it was to go into that room and pretend to be happy, but how it was also an honor, and of course I couldn’t cry in there. It was tragic and sad, but it would be selfish to cry—that family was experiencing that pain and it would only add to it if I’d started crying.
It was my job to do the very best I could to bring some light and joy into that room. If they only got to have their son for six days or six months, I was meant to lighten their load. I wasn’t the star of that show, it was always the dog.
And Lane got it.
Her lip was trembling and her voice was shaking and her eyes, those damn turquoise eyes with specks of green, were wet and wide and she was just so there and so alive and so beautiful—there was nothing else I could do. She touched a piece of me, deep in my heart, that I tried my damnedest to lock away from the world, to pretend didn't exist. A piece that Lane seemed able, with one look of those eyes, to connect with and know that goodness existed within me. She made me feel and even though it scared the hell out of me, I wanted her. I’d wanted her from the moment I met her.
In that moment I needed to kiss her. It wasn’t a choice. I reached out and I grabbed her by both arms and pulled her to me. I pressed my lips to hers and they were soft and at first surprised, but her lips yielded to mine. I pressed her against the elevator wall. My mouth was so greedy for her. I wanted her. I needed her.
My hand skimmed over her bare thigh and along the edges of her shorts. Damn, that amazing, beautiful thigh. My hand pressed up over the top of her shirt, against her waist and to the edge of the roundness of her breast. A soft moan came from deep in her throat. I was so hard. So hot for her. She pressed her hips forward against mine, and as I touched the edge of her breast another soft little moan escaped her throat. A moan that nearly undid me. I pressed harder against her.
Then the elevator dinged. I looked at her and the heat in my body stunned me. What was I thinking? We were in an elevator in a hospital. I wasn’t… I couldn’t think, that was obvious—I couldn’t even think when Lane was around. I burst off the elevator and toward the doors we’d entered through. I needed air. This… I hadn’t meant to, didn’t… shouldn’t have. What had I done? I looked over my shoulder once before I slammed through the automatic doors. The look on Lane’s face—the look that said she was shocked and surprised and stunned. Her fingers lingered on her lips where minutes before my own lips had been.
Chapter 14
Dillon
I had to stay away from Lane. I had to. That kiss had been too close and too much. I wanted so much more from her. I wanted everything. The way she tasted. The way her body had melted into mine. The soft sounds that had come from her throat. Just thinking about it made me hard. She was sweet and kind and innocent. That tough-girl act didn’t fool me. I suspected it didn’t fool anyone.
Beyond my bedroom window, she turned a lap in the pool. She usually swam late in the evening. Her beautiful body with her long, golden legs and full hips slipped through the water. I wanted to grab that body with both my hands and pull her against me.
I wanted Lane. I wanted to keep her for my own. I wanted to lock her up in this house and keep her for me.
She popped up at the shallow end and ran her hand over her long, caramel-colored hair, now dark with water. The pool lights shimmered around her. She looked like something from a dream. I could pretend I was looking at the view, but I wasn’t, I was watching Lane. I loved watching her. I couldn’t have her. I couldn’t keep her. She couldn’t be mine, not with the life I led. Not with the image I needed to maintain. Not with the decisions I had made and my responsibilities.
My bedroom door opened behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. My brother stepped into my room.
“I saw some of your dailies,” Choo said.
I nodded. Webber must have gotten some from the director. “Any good?”
“The camera loves you,” he said. “I hate to say it because I think your ego has already inflated past an acceptable size, but Webber, me, and every agent at CTA is pretty sure you’re the next big thing.”
I’d been hearing I was “the next big thing” for the last six months while I waited for my first film to hit screens. The reviews for Mission Ranger had started coming in and the comments were solid. The studio and Webber were banking on the film breaking records. If that happened, my life, which had already changed, would change even more. I could kiss good-bye any remaining anonymity in my life or privacy. I turned back toward the window. Lane pulled herself from the pool. Water, silvery in the pool light, slipped down her body. The body I wanted to clasp and hold. The body I wanted to bury myself in. The body that, for her future and for mine, I had to make sure I would never touch again.
Lane
Dillon had disappeared. He’d kissed me and then he was gone. I wasn’t even certain the kiss had happened. The memory of his lips, the taste of him, the smell of him, the heat of his body, his hardness throbbing against the ache between my legs, was the only proof I had that he’d pressed me against the elevator wall.
Yes, the kiss did happen.
I kept up my daily routine while questions simmered in my mind. I got up, walked the dogs in Runyon Canyon, came back to the house. I showered and got ready for the day. I’d spend the morning reading scripts. Some really bad scripts and some really great scripts. There was a never-ending stream of stories. Just as I thought I’d gotten to the end of the pile, there’d be a delivery from CTA with four more or Mathilde would have printed out another and dropped it on my desk.
After I read each morning, I’d have lunch with Mathilde. We struggled through our language barrier and she was becoming my friend. She’d been with Choo and Dillon since they’d moved to L.A. She told fun little stories about them. She obviously adored them and liked taking care of their home. After lunch, I’d go for another walk with the dogs. Then I’d come home and read some more and wait for Choo.
My heart hurt. I couldn’t keep the memory of Dillon’s kiss from traipsing through my mind. I wasn’t a complete innocent—I’d kissed a boy before. I’d had a boyfriend my last year of high school who’d been more a date to certain dances than anything else.
I’d never kissed a guy with that much heat and passion and feeling. I thought Dillon had liked it as much as I had, but he’d pulled his body away from me. I wanted to understand why he’d stopped kissing me. Why he’d bolted from me. Why, even though he lived in the same house, I hadn’t seen or talked to him in what felt like forever.
No one could kiss with that much heat, that much passion, and not f
eel it, could they? But Dillon was an actor. He pretended for a living. He got paid to kiss people. He kissed some of the most beautiful women in the world, and if he could kiss them and not fall in love, then I guessed he could definitely kiss me and feel nothing.
*
I turned into the drive and pulled the parking brake. I opened my door, slipped out, wandered around to the other side of my Jeep, and pulled open the door. Three dogs bounded out: first Kong, then Spielberg, then Scorsese. Finally Bernie lumbered out from the back seat. He stopped on the passenger seat and looked me in the eye.
“Love you, buddy,” I said and scrubbed both sides of his head. Aside from Choo, Bernie was quickly becoming my best friend. This was my glamorous Hollywood life. According to Choo, I seemed to be killing it. He’d mentioned just this morning that I’d managed to last longer than his brother’s last four readers. Hooray for me. Now if I could just stop the fantasies that raced through my mind when I thought of Dillon.
My phone beeped. “Hey, buddy, I have to get this,” I said to Bernie.
He seemed to understand and slowly lumbered out of the Jeep and onto the drive.
I didn’t recognized the 310 number that flashed across my screen, and I pressed the green button. “Hello?” I said, curious as to who was calling me.
“Lane?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t sure who it was.
“It’s Amanda,” she said. “Amanda Legend. I’m cousins with Taylor? We met at his party?”
Excitement laced with guilt traipsed through my gut. Taylor had texted three times since his party. Each time I’d found some vague and pretty lame excuse for not getting together with him. None of the excuses were lies, but all of them were barely legitimate reasons. I couldn’t admit it to Taylor; I could barely admit it to myself. The reason I was avoiding him was Dillon. All Dillon. I couldn’t chase him from my mind. Seeing Taylor while thoughts of Dillon hammered away in my brain just didn’t seem right. I liked Taylor as a person, as a friend, and I was certain he liked me as more than just that.
“Hi, Amanda,” I said, my voice a little tentative. I wondered if she was calling to see if I wanted to go out with her cousin.
Amanda Legend was way out of my friend league but just exactly the kind of girl I could become friends with. She was funny and smart and sharp and she was calling me. I slammed shut my Jeep door.
“Listen,” she said, “I wondered if you wanted to grab some dinner tonight? Maybe sushi?”
I looked down at my clothes. I was covered with sweat and a thin film of grit from hiking Runyon Canyon a second time today. “Uh… what time?”
“Around eight?”
I paused. This was a great way to get my mind off Dillon. “I can do that.” I hustled into the kitchen and waved to Mathilde.
“Great, how about Sushi Roku?”
“See you then,” I said and pressed off on my phone. My stomach tipped over the edge. I was having dinner with Amanda Legend. I was a little excited and a whole lot nervous.
*
I stood in front of my closet with a plush white bath towel around my body and another around my head.
“What do I wear?” I whined into my phone.
“What about that little dress with the flowers,” Choo said.
“No, it’s all wrong.” I pulled the dress from my closet and examined it just to be certain. That dress was completely not right for dinner with Amanda. “It’s not what I want to wear to this.”
“Girl, I have gone through your entire wardrobe over this phone.”
I sighed and slumped onto my bed. “I just want to look good.”
“It’s like you have a girl crush,” Choo said.
“I kind of do. I mean, she’s funny, she’s smart—”
“She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Her dad has been in a gazillion great movies.”
“And he produces too,” Choo said.
“Don’t remind me. She’s kind of one of those people that I should meet if I want to work in this industry.” I pulled the towel from my head. “It’s an added benny that I like her too.”
“Fo’ shore,” Choo said. His fingers tippity-tapped over a keyboard. He wasn’t pushing the mail cart today but instead subbing for a sick assistant on the president of the agency’s desk.
“Hey!” Choo said. “What about that graphic T-shirt from Fred Segal?”
“That’s your shirt,” I said.
“And that’s exactly why that shirt and that little denim skirt with those ass-kicking boots of yours would look adorbs!”
I sat up and ran my fingers through my damp hair. “You know, you could be right.”
“Lane, how many times do I have to tell you,” Choo said. “I am never wrong.”
*
“Love the shirt,” Amanda said and air-kissed both my cheeks.
“Thanks.” A wave of relief splashed through my belly.
I did have a girl crush. Part of it was I simply wanted a friend. A friend who was a girl. Choo was great, but he had Jackson and work and really, except for a couple of nights a week, was never around. The last week I’d had the pups and my scripts to keep me company, nothing else. I was lonely. I needed something to keep my mind off Dillon. Maybe Amanda would be that friend.
“Best sushi in L.A.,” Amanda said.
My stomach tightened and the back of my throat got thick with the idea of putting raw fish into my mouth. I pretended to look at my menu. I had tried sushi before and I just couldn’t get my mind around the idea of a raw fish tasting good. All I tasted was yuck.
“What?” Amanda tilted her head to the side. She studied me with her sharp gaze, and her brows pulled together in a quizzical expression as though I were a puzzle to solve. “Wait…” She leaned forward. “You don’t eat sushi?”
I closed my menu and tilted my chin down. I shook my head no.
A giant smile spread across Amanda’s face. “Then why are we here?”
Why were we here?
“Because you suggested it and I couldn’t think fast enough to say I don’t like sushi.”
Amanda folded her menu and set it on the table. “Let’s go get cheeseburgers instead,” she whispered as though she’d just asked me to rob a bank.
Twenty minutes later, we sat in my Jeep in the parking lot of an In-N-Out, eating fries and sucking down milkshakes. We watched the crowd of people walk back and forth across the street when the lights changed.
“I love sushi, but I love cheeseburgers even more,” Amanda said and shoved a fry into her mouth. “No one will eat cheeseburgers with me. None of my friends, unless they’re incredibly stoned.” She turned to me. “You are my new cheeseburger buddy.”
I slurped on my chocolate milkshake. This was a girl I could definitely hang with. She might be dressed in thousand-dollar shoes and carrying a thousand-dollar bag, but any girl who could sit in my broken-down Jeep and gobble down a double cheeseburger and an order of fries was my kind of girl.
“We’ve officially bonded over cheeseburgers and fries,” Amanda said. She slurped on her shake. She’d ordered a vanilla shake, but I was willing to forgive her for that one indiscretion.
“Do you like L.A.?” Amanda leaned back into the headrest and turned to me.
I pulled in a long, deep breath and watched the crowd amble past when the light turned green. “Yeah, I do. I like it a lot.”
“It’s hard for me to know if I’ll like anywhere else,” Amanda said. “I mean, we’ve traveled. My dad used to always take us when he was shooting a film, but that isn’t like living somewhere.”
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
“New York,” Amanda said. “Maybe Paris.” A smiled pulled on her cheeks. “Anywhere. Most of all I want to get out of Los Angeles.”
I could understand wanting to experience something new, something different, something other than what you’d grown up with—those were some of the very same reasons why I’d come to L.A. for the summer.
“Anything that doesn’t involve actors or movies.” She flipped her thick black hair over her shoulder.
I couldn’t imagine ever being bored with making films, but I hadn’t been visiting film sets since I was three months old.
“My major is art history, so I’d probably work in a gallery, at least for a while.”
I knew nothing of art and I wouldn’t be going anywhere in Europe anytime soon. Amanda’s life was so different than mine, and yet I liked her.
“And what about you?” she asked.
“I want everything you don’t,” I said. “I want to work in movies, make films, be there while they shoot them.”
I sounded like a starry-eyed, silly girl from Kansas. But this was my dream, and I’d promised my mom I would try to make my big dreams come true.
“I think it’s fantastic you’ve found something you love,” Amanda said. “I wish I had. I just don’t know what I want to do for the rest of my life. My brother has always known, and Taylor has always known. My dad knew from when he was a little kid that he wanted to act and make films. I guess that’s kind of like you? Right? Aside from the acting part.” She settled her chin onto the back of her hand. “I’m just not sure. Nothing has grabbed me yet.”
She sounded like my best friend, Emma. She too wasn’t certain what she wanted to do once we graduated from school.
“One more year, right?”