by Este Holland
I’d heard that tone before in his movies and interviews on YouTube. Liar. “I don’t believe you.”
“Look, Adam…” I hid a grin behind one hand. There was the real Truman. “I don’t have time for these games.”
“Then quit playing them,” I said and hung up.
Let me stop and point something out. I’m no martyr. I wasn’t playing hard to get or suffering from delusions. It was easy to guess what Truman wanted and why he wanted it. I turned him down because I knew myself and people like him. He was the popular kid, used to getting his way, and I was the nerd who dared to defy him.
If I’d been anyone else, I would’ve ripped my clothes off faster than The Flash and screamed, “Take me now!” However, if we, by some miracle, got to his bedroom and stripped naked…I’d choke.
I’d have an anxiety attack and he’d flip; then I’d run away, embarrassed and ashamed.
Deep breath.
I wanted nothing to do with any part of that scenario. Not even for a chance to see Truman James naked.
Sighing, I gathered the dogs and walked back to the shelter, letting them sniff and linger in the sunshine before returning to their kennels.
What was happening to my life right now? It was like a fantasy I’d created and kept adding more details to every day, until I had dialogue and exact sexual positions to make my ass look its best.
“Bye, guys.” I locked the dogs in and hurried to catch a bus to Chad’s.
I didn’t want to go up, knowing Chad and Pacey were lurking, so I veered off across the street to a small café. I grabbed a table by the windows and sat to people-watch while I finished reading my book. The action-slash-love-story ended happily with the main characters sailing off into the skies. I smiled and closed the app, then did something stupid: I Googled Truman James.
His face exploded on my phone, and my mouth sagged open. I closed it around my straw and chewed as I scrolled. So, he was gorgeous? Wasn’t news to me. He was even better-looking in person. I stifled a groan as my jeans tightened a little. I turned the phone over on the table and thought about the unsexiest stuff imaginable. Chad and Pacey together. Ugh. That did it.
“Angel? I mean, Adam.”
Startled, I knocked my cup with my elbow. A hand shot out to catch it, and my gaze traveled up a leather-covered arm to dark eyes smiling down at me. “Jay?”
“Hi.” He stood, tall and lean with his black hair in a messy quiff. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but that’s obvious.” His smile was contagious, and I found myself matching it.
“Oh, have a seat, if you want.”
“Thanks.” Sitting, he put his messenger bag on the floor. “This is weird. I’m not stalking you, I swear. This is my neighborhood.” He had big headphones around his neck and a reusable to-go cup.
“Mine too. I live over there.” I nodded to Chad’s building. “Well, for the next two weeks, anyway. I live in Pasadena, but my building has mold.”
“Ah. That sucks. Who are you staying with?”
“My stepbrother. He was the one who dragged me to the party last night.”
Jay leaned his chin on the heel of his hand and smiled with his full lips. “Dragged you? Fuck, I love that. Most people would’ve given their firstborn child to get into that party.”
I spun my phone around on the table. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that I’m not very good at things like that.” I hated talking about this. I didn’t want Jay to think I was looking for sympathy.
“God, tell me about it.”
I raised my brows in question.
“I’m not big on crowds,” Jay said. “Which is weird. I’m a bartender, right?”
I nodded.
“I prefer a few friends and quiet conversation. Bartending pays my tuition.”
“What are you studying?”
“I’m in English Lit.”
I straightened. “Really? I love books. I’m a writer.”
“Me too!”
And we were off, discussing our favorite books. We didn’t write in the same genres, but we had a few to-be-read books in common. We connected on Goodreads, and I showed him my author page on Amazon. He bought the first book right then, ignoring my protests.
He’d never heard of LitRPG, but he assured me he’d read anything put in front of him. Jay wrote paranormal thrillers. He hadn’t published yet, and I told him that when he was ready, I’d help him through the process. I don’t know what it was about him, but Jay was so easy to talk to that I forgot all about being nervous…and about Truman James.
Did I mention I lied to myself?
Chapter 5
Truman Does Something Stupid
Truman
Adam hung up on me. That little—I squeezed my phone, trying my best not to hurl it at the back of the driver’s seat. When I get my hands on him, I’ll… The only thing that came to mind was the most epic kiss imaginable. It would be so good, so life-changing, he’d fall at my feet and beg me to give him another chance.
“Everything all right, Mr. James?” Riley eyed me in the rearview mirror.
“Fine. Let’s go home.”
“Yes, sir.”
What a waste of time. Bill’s information obviously wasn’t up-to-date. I sent him an annoyed text.
Truman: Not in Pasadena. Building under reno. Find his current address!
Bill: How?
Truman: He was with his stepbrother at the party…Chase? Chad? Chet? Find. Him.
Bill: I’m not a PI, you know.
I didn’t respond, knowing he’d get on it. Once home, I told Riley to take off for the rest of the night and sat on my patio with my laptop and a gin and tonic. I searched Adam Brantley Hendrix and came up with a Facebook account and studied it like I had the SATs the next day. I found something interesting a guy named Jeff had shared with him. I clicked on it and it took me to an Amazon page. A.B. Hendrix. Huh. Adam was a writer. Interesting. I bought the first box set I found and started to read.
Two hours later, I was on my third drink and googling every other sentence. I had no idea what he was talking about. Oh, I got the romantic elements and the conflict between the two characters, but the stuff about “pvp’ers” and “noobs” was like a foreign language. People getting sucked into virtual reality and saving the world from game monsters wasn’t exactly my choice of entertainment.
I shut my laptop and finished my drink. I was a little too drunk at that point to keep reading. It didn’t bother me—Adam liked what he liked, and that was fine, but I was a little disappointed we didn’t seem to have any common ground.
“Fuck it. This is stupid.”
I had no idea why I was obsessing over him. Was it because he turned me down? Nah, I’d get over that, eventually. I wandered down the beach path to the ocean and watched the moon glitter on the water. I breathed in deep as the wind blew salt in my face.
Adam’s expression when I first saw him flashed in my mind. He’d been sad and embarrassed as his stepbrother berated him in that hallway, and later, when he’d been pulled into the room. I wanted to take that look away. I wanted him to smile at me. That was all.
Well, not all. I wanted to fuck him, but now I was intrigued. I wanted to hear about his life, how he wrote those books, and why he let his stepbrother talk to him like that.
***
The next morning, Bill texted me a new address with no further comments. He’d reached his annoyance threshold. I had more interviews, a meeting with my agent, Kelly, to discuss my next film, and a lunch date with my best friend…but I could squeeze in a trip to Chad McGuire’s apartment to see if he knew where Adam was.
With a plan in place, I got dressed in my favorite jeans, a Dolce and Gabbana T-shirt with the head of a cockatoo barely visible on the breast pocket, and an Armani dress shirt over it, untucked and a little wrinkled. I slid into my pin strap boots and grabbed my wallet and keys. I’d decided to drive myself that day and let Riley do some work. Besides, I didn’t want him to know about my
little side trip. He’d tell Angela, whom he adores. And I didn’t want to deal with her warnings.
The BMW 750i was a nice ride, and I liked driving it along the coast. My first interview was downtown. I met with my agent after that, and we talked about the next big summer blockbuster. I had to start training for fight scenes soon.
Then I had lunch with my best friend. “You didn’t come to my after-party.” I drank my sparkling water, glaring at his tall, frosty beer. The restaurant was open and breezy with ceiling fans pushing the air around. The tables were spread far apart, and we lounged in bamboo chairs.
“I was in Dubai, mate. I told you this.”
Daniel Winters was a freelance journalist. The kind that worked for Time and National Geographic. And he took the most stunning portraits of people I’d ever seen. We’d met about a decade ago in LA when he was doing a behind-the-scenes look at the unglamorous side of Hollywood. It had been a good piece, but several of my peers had needed to hide out in Canada because of it, so he wasn’t very popular.
He swept a long strand of dirty blond hair behind his ear and smirked with his wide mouth. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you happy?”
“That I won?” I shrugged. “Yeah. Who wouldn’t be?”
His ocean-blue eyes assessed my face, and I fought to keep it blank. He was too good at reading people. “If you say so.”
“Where are you off to next?”
“I’m not sure yet. I have a few options to mull over.”
“Come and stay with me.”
“I might. It’ll be nice to relax on the beach in Malibu for a few weeks.”
“Exactly. How’s your mom?”
He gave that sad smile whenever she was mentioned. “The same.”
I nodded and changed the subject, knowing he didn’t like to talk about it. We discussed our jobs for a while; then talk turned to our love lives. He told me about men in faraway lands while I thought about Adam.
“How’s Jessamin?”
“I haven’t talked to her in weeks.”
His eyes widened. “Really? I thought you liked her.”
I shook my head and glanced around, noticing a few people aiming phones my way. “It was temporary.”
“Then who’s got that look on your face?”
“What look?” I frowned.
“You’re thinking of someone. Who is it?”
“Just a guy I met. He’s a writer and a graphic designer.”
“Really?” He leaned over the table with a grin.
“Yeah, why?” I drained my water, wishing it was tequila.
“You don’t date regular people, Tru. Not even when you were one.”
I smiled, but it faded quickly. “I don’t know. He’s different.”
“Hot?”
“Beautiful. But that’s not it. Well…maybe at first.”
“That’s another first. You usually only care about looks.”
Affronted, I said, “I do not.”
“Oh, please. What can you tell me about Jessamin?”
“Uh…” Her perky breasts and long legs came to mind.
“Precisely.”
He was right. The only thing I knew about her was her crappy taste in music. “It wasn’t real. You know that. Just someone to go to events with.”
“So, what is it about this guy?”
I’d thought about that exact question quite a bit. “He stood up to me. Twice.”
“Ha!” Daniel’s laugh had more people looking over and spotting me. “That’s fantastic. I like him already. When can I meet him?” I scowled, and Daniel laughed. “Oh, I see. He’s still giving you the brush-off.”
“Maybe. But I’m not giving up.” I looked around at the growing crowd. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Right.” Daniel, used to the public surrounding me, drained the last of his beer.
I managed to get away with a few autographs and we ran to the car. I dropped Daniel off at his Airbnb and continued to my next interview with a popular movie news podcast. The interviewer, Trish, ended it by asking about my love life. I had a patented answer ready to go, but that day I was having fun with Trish, so I gave her a little more.
“I actually met someone a few days ago,” I said into the microphone.
“Oh, that’s so exciting!” Trish squealed. “What can you tell us about them?”
That was what I loved about Trish—she respected that I was bi and didn’t make a big deal about it.
“Not much, I’m afraid. I don’t think they want anything to do with me.”
“What? Oh. My. Fairy Godmother. That’s crazy! How can anyone not want to date you? You’re the hottest thing on two legs.”
I grinned at her enthusiasm. “I don’t know, Trish. I am a catch.”
“Is there anything you’d like to say to them?”
And that was when I did something very stupid. Leaning closer to the mic, I said, “I’ll see you soon, Adam.”
Chapter 6
Adam’s Own Personal Hell
Adam
I’m not the type who listens to TED Talks. I don’t read self-help books. My therapist, Deborah, gave me one when I first went to her about my anxiety, and I just smiled. I think it’s being eaten by the mold right about now. Not that I knock anyone who does those things. If you like it, live it.
Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. I don’t listen to podcasts either. Again, not knocking them, but I’d rather read an article than listen to someone. There’s just something about hearing people’s tongues moving around, swallowing, licking their lips, and drinking that makes the hairs on my arms rise.
So, when Jay met me four days after our impromptu coffee date and told me I had to hear something, it was with reluctance that I agreed. He gave me one of his earbuds and hit Play on his phone.
Truman. That deep, sarcastic voice was ingrained in my brain at that point.
“I’ll see you soon, Adam.”
I gasped so hard, I paralyzed my lungs for several seconds. I coughed and sputtered while Jay watched in amused horror.
Gaining control, I drank my iced coffee before wheezing. “What the hell was he thinking?”
“I don’t know. It sounds like he’s looking for you, Angel.” He was kind of smiling, kind of trying not to, and I scowled.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Not your anxiety.”
“How did—” I stopped myself. Of course he noticed. He was at the party. “What should I do? He didn’t say my last name,” I said, thinking it through, “so that’s good. I’ll be okay.”
Jay pressed his lips together.
“What?”
“There were people at the Bissou who know you.”
“How? I hid the whole time.”
“Your brother, for one.”
“Stepbrother. I don’t think he’d say anything.”
Jay frowned. “Well, you know him best.”
I stared into Jay’s concerned face. “Oh, my God. Chad would totally sell me out for a chance to be on TV.”
“Really?”
“I should go. I need to—” I stood, and Jay followed.
“I’m sorry to dump this on you. I didn’t know it would affect you like this.”
“I’m okay. I just don’t love being in the spotlight. Any spotlight. Like, not even the little ones in people’s kitchens.”
Jay chuckled. “Just don’t underestimate the paparazzi, okay? Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
We went our separate ways, and I walked until I found a quiet place. I took out my phone and stared down at the contact I’d saved Truman’s number under…so I could not answer when he called again.
Yeah, right. Did I mention, I lied to myself?
I hit the button and waited. When he answered, six rings later, his voice hit me again. Why did it do that?
“Adam. I was wondering if I’d hear from you.”
�
��How could you say my name like that?”
A pause. “You heard my interview?”
I paced the sidewalk under a tree in the dappled sunlight. “Jay had me listen to it. Why did you do that?”
“Because I wanted to get your attention.”
The fact that he said that without any hint of shame was mind-boggling. I sighed in disgust. “Fine. You win, Truman. What do you want? Because I’ll tell you right now, you won’t be pressuring me into sex.”
Here’s the thing. Most people who meet me and see how I hate attention assume I’m a pushover. Fuck that noise. I went through enough of that in high school, so I learned to stand up for myself. It was a hard battle, with my therapist, Deborah, making me do role-playing games, and not the fun kind with shields and plastic swords, but I’d persevered. The only person I still struggled with was Chad, and that was because…well, brothers were different. Any siblings were, really. But I was learning to deal with him too.
Truman’s chuckle hit me right in the dick. Thank God it was figurative, because it was powerful enough to cripple me. I collapsed on a nearby bench and waited.
“Fine. No sex. A date. I’ll pick you up at your stepbrother’s apartment tonight at six.”
“No way. I’ll meet you somewhere.” Wait. Did I just agree to a date? Wow, he’s good. I didn’t even think about it.
Truman paused, and I pictured his stupidly perfect face scowling at my insubordination. “You don’t have a car.”
“How do you know that?”
“I had a long, informative talk with Chad.”
“Fuck.”
A little old lady feeding squirrels looked over at me and shook her finger.
I covered the mouthpiece. “I’m talking to Truman James. I need to curse.”
“What?” Truman asked.
“Nothing. You were saying?”
“We can’t just show up at a restaurant. I’ll be mobbed.”
“Oh.” Yeah, this was not going to work. “I don’t like crowds.”
“I’m picking you up. Be outside at six. I don’t want your stepbrother to see me.”