by Celeste, B.
“Again?” she repeats. “What…?”
Clearly her brother never mentioned our little meetup at the store even when I told her to ask him about it. “It doesn’t matter now. You were right to call me out on being a dickhead about, well, everything. I never wanted to be in Lincoln to begin with and was so determined to get out of there that I didn’t think about anybody else. That wasn’t about you.”
She tries stepping back, but I don’t let her. My hand wraps around her arm, not holding too tightly but enough where she can’t pull away. I can feel her warmth, smell the faintest hint of sweet peach like the lotion she used to love so much, and get taken back to the last time we stood this close.
We looked at each other differently.
With love. Hope. Faith that it’d work out.
“I fucked up,” I whisper. “That’s on me.”
“Corbin…” Her voice cracks. “I refuse to put myself in this situation again. I didn’t come here to rehash what happened the other night. I came to tell you not to do what you did today. If people find out about us … everything changes.”
My other hand moves to her face, caressing her soft cheek and smiling when I realize there’s not a stitch of makeup covering her skin.
Her breath catches and I feel it ricochet off the heel of my palm. In my chest is the quickening pace of a heartbeat that hasn’t moved so desperately in a long time. Not since a girl with the strangest colored hair showed me the school, became my friend, and then my biggest regret.
Not one audition has allowed me to feel the anticipation that having her in my hold has given me in mere seconds. Warm flesh, hot breath, thick emotion.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, before bending down and brushing my lips over hers. It’s the softest touch, the sweetest torture, and before I can deepen it like my hardening cock wants to, I’m being shoved away and slapped with a force that leaves my cheek stinging and my vision doubled before regaining reality.
Tears spill down Kinley’s cheeks when I finally blink away the shock of what just happened, and everything I felt from her nearness melts into the heaviest guilt.
But nothing matches the feelings that cement in my chest when she opens her mouth and spits out, “I hate you for making me like this. Weak. Angry. Second best. Like I somehow deserve this.”
Red face to match her bloodshot eyes, she backs away and touches her lips before choking out a sob that has me frozen to my spot.
“It doesn’t matter that you and your wife decided not to work it out, Corbin. The world thinks you’re some happy couple. People on this lot think we’re strangers who met to put something heartbreakingly beautiful on the big screen. We’re fooling everyone and torturing ourselves with what-if.”
“It doesn’t have to be—”
“Yes, it does!” She clenches her hands into fists by her sides and blows out a deep breath while staring at me. “Who are you trying to kid? Do you really think we can go back to pretending like we can attend each other’s formal events together like nobody would question it? Men and women can’t be friends in your industry without everyone picking them apart. You may be used to that lifestyle, but I’m not. And you damn well know that we’re not just friends. Once upon a time we were, but we’ll never get that back.”
I step toward her, running my palms down my thighs. “If that’s what you want, we can make it work. We promised each other the Oscars and RITA Awards, remember? I do. You’d wear a long black dress with a slit up the leg and matching flats because heels make you too unsteady. I’d wear a black tuxedo and a silver tie because it matches my eyes and we’d have a great time. We can be those people again.”
“I don’t want to be,” she whispers. She shakes her head and backs closer to the door. “I don’t want to remember what it was like to have my hopes up just to get hurt so badly.”
“It won’t … it’ll be different.”
“You’re right.” She looks down. “It’ll be so much worse next time. You want to know why Beck chose Ian? Why she let him put a ring on her finger instead of Ryker? It’s simple. We settle because we’re afraid the love that’s meant for us will destroy us completely.”
This time, I have nothing to offer her. No words, no gestures, no argument that says differently. She told me once that she loved how authors’ minds worked because they told a truth that nobody wants to hear. Life, love, everything can shatter you in an instant, but writers find a way to make it sound like the perfect way to go.
When she all but bolts out of my trailer, I realize one thing is for certain. If nothing had changed before, everything has now. Any shred of hope to rekindle a friendship with the girl I once considered the only special person in my life, is long gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Kinley / Present
My tired eyes burn the longer I go through the notes littering my manuscript in front of me. The red ink is everywhere, circling words, and crossing out sentences. The slightest tension in the back of my neck has me dropping my pen onto the bed and massaging the base of my skull.
Sliding off the mattress, I go to my purse and dig through it until the bottle I’m looking for is in my hand. When I see it’s empty, I groan and look at the time on the alarm clock by the bed.
Considering where I am, there’s no doubt I could find a store to buy medicine this time of night. Anything to ease the pain quickly forming in my temples.
Trying to Google places in walking distance has me more confused than anything, so I slip into the clothes I wore today and walk downstairs to the front desk.
The older gentleman working the night shift looks up from the computer and smiles at me. “Ms. Thomas. How can I help you?”
I grip my purse and note his nametag. “Is there a drugstore nearby that sells Motrin, Matt? Or a convenience store I can walk to?”
He hesitates before standing straighter. “I would suggest not walking anywhere this time of night on your own. However, I can call a car or even get someone to fetch the medication for you.”
I blink. What? “No, that’s okay. I can get it myself. If you can just give me an address or tell me how to get there…”
He nods once and clicks a few times on the computer before jotting an address down on hotel stationary. “If I may, there is another option to get there that’s safer.”
Before he can say what it is, someone calls my name. The man behind the desk nods once with a faint smile on his face as he turns back to whatever he was working on before I came down.
“What are you doing here?” My greeting isn’t friendly, but it could be ruder given our present company.
Corbin stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I was trying to gather the courage to talk to you. To be honest, I was just getting ready to leave.”
“Good,” slips out before I can stop it.
I begin walking toward the double doors, tightening the jacket around me now that the mid-summer sun has set. Not so surprisingly, Corbin follows close behind me until we stop outside the hotel.
“You can’t just go out on your own.”
I turn. “Excuse me?”
He sighs. “Don’t be like that. You know it isn’t smart to walk around by yourself in a city like this. Plus, you don’t know where you’re going, do you?”
“And you do?”
“I’ve lived around here longer.”
Like I don’t know that. I scoff and start walking in a random direction, noting the semi-crowded sidewalk. People ignore me for the most part, some give me a weird look, and others bump into me without caring.
A hand grabs my wrist, which I’m about to shove away when Corbin’s scratchy voice breaks through my caution. “Stop, Little Bird.”
I whip my arm away.
He jabs behind him. “My car is parked over there. Just let me take you where you need to go, okay? It’ll be painless.”
“To you,” I mutter.
For some reason, he chuckles. “Yeah, maybe. Still, I’m not letting you wander around on your own. I
t’s supposed to rain too.”
My eyes go up to the slightly cloudy sky. Not wanting to take a risk, I reluctantly follow him back to the hotel. He says something to the doorman and slaps his arm with a smile before pulling out his keys and guiding me to a sleek back car parked off to the side.
“Looks expensive,” I note as he opens the passenger door for me. Sliding in, I examine the inside dash that’s covered in screens and buttons that I’m afraid to touch. He closes the door and jogs around the front.
My fingers run across the black plastic in front of me and drag down to the glove compartment. Unlatching it while he starts the car and turns out onto the street, I dig through the random papers, napkins, and sunglasses before making a face.
“Looking for something?” he muses.
The truth just sort of comes out. “I thought there’d be something interesting in here. I don’t know. Condoms, a thousand dollars, something.”
His laugh has me eying him. “You think I’d just keep a thousand dollars in my car for anyone to steal?”
I don’t answer.
“What’s in your glove compartment?” he questions, slowing as we hit lines of traffic.
I think about it, not really knowing a solid answer. I’m pretty sure the only thing in mine is the car insurance papers and maybe chapstick that’s long since melted. Once upon a time, I kept a familiar burgundy notebook in there to read through or write in if I had an idea when I was out. Now it’s in a box in my office closet with the other notebooks I’ve filled with story outlines and one-liners that I’ve used along the years. I refuse to take it out and trace the gold lettering I’ve spent a lot of time staring at since Corbin gave it to me for our first and only Christmas.
“Nothing important, I guess,” he concludes when I say nothing.
For some reason, I smile at the memory of the vehicle I rode around in with him. “You used to have such random stuff in your Jeep. The cup holders had coins filling them so our drinks never fit right, your glove compartment had fast food menus and napkins, and the little console on the side held your thirty million sunglasses.”
He grins at me. “You always judged me for how many shades I had. I never teased you about your shoe collection. Or the ridiculous amount of pillows you always kept on your tiny ass bed. How did you even fit?”
Gavin would get annoyed with me about that too. It was rare as we got older that he’d hang out with me in my room, but sometimes we’d put on Netflix on my laptop and junk out. It never stopped him from buying me new pillows if he found ones that reminded him of me.
“I miss that Jeep,” he tells me, looking into the sideview before moving to a different lane. “I considered getting a new one but didn’t think it’d work well for what I need here.”
Looking at the screen in the middle of the dash, I note all the different options. “Seems like you can do way more with this thing.”
“It works.”
I roll my eyes. “My car doesn’t even have heated seats. You should be more grateful for what you have.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You’re right.”
After a few more minutes, we slow down near a lit-up drugstore. He pulls into the parking lot and shuts off the car. His body turns to mine as he grabs something from the back.
“Ready?” Pulling a baseball cap onto his head to cover his dark hair, he smiles.
“You need a fake mustache too?”
He rolls his eyes and pulls sunglasses from a little compartment above the rearview mirror that I didn’t see before. “You joke, but you’ll see why it’s important.”
“You’re kidding right?”
The shades cover his eyes. “Nope.”
Opening his door, he nods his head. “Are you coming? You need some Motrin, don’t you? I could grab a few things too while we’re out.”
My hand stalls on the lever of the door, watching him warily. “Why are you doing this? Trying so hard?”
His response is instant. “Because you deserve it.”
I swallow and open the door, absentmindedly following him inside. His palm lightly rests on the small of my back as we walk to the aisle we need.
There are only a few people in the store, which doesn’t surprise me since it’s going on midnight. According to the sign in the glass door, they’re open twenty-four-seven. I suppose given the demographic, it’s probably a good thing.
Corbin picks up a bottle and shakes it. “Is this going to work, or do you need a bigger one?”
“That’ll work.”
He keeps hold of it and continues walking down the aisle until his eyes scan the new one he wants. When I notice the candy along the shelves, I roll my eyes.
“Isn’t it a bit late for candy?”
His gasp is amusing and overdone. “I seem to recall a girl who informed me that there’s never a bad time for candy.”
Pretty sure the time he’s referring to is the same night I ate way too much sugar and puked my guts out. Corbin had to hold my hair back and find a store that was still open to get me ginger ale and anti-nausea medicine so my stomach would settle.
“Pick your poison.” He already has our normal in his hand, but my eye goes to the peanut butter cups that’s in front of me.
“I’m paying for my own stuff.”
“Mmhmm.”
I eye him. “Don’t be stupid.”
He just winks.
We walk further down the aisle. “So, you don’t have things to do other than lurk outside my hotel building in the middle of the night? Seems awfully similar to a guy I used to know that creeped outside of restaurants after dark.”
“Weird coincidence,” he remarks. “I normally go to bed after I get home, but we have the weekend off. Gives me time to get out.”
“And lurk?”
He eyes me. “I like to think of it as helping people in need.”
Wow. “So charitable these days.”
As we enter another aisle, a younger woman who’s carrying a red basket stops in the middle and stares in our direction. Corbin reaches for something in the clearance section without noticing, but I can’t help but watch the blonde woman’s lips part. He takes his glasses off and squints at the device hanging on the rack.
“Uh…” I tap Corbin’s shoulder.
He looks at me with his brows raised. I subtly gesture my head in the other direction and watch him turn to see what I’m trying to tell him. I think he curses softly under his breath.
“You’re Corbin Callum, right?” the woman says, still gawking.
I lean in and whisper, “Should have invested in a mustache.”
His shoulder bumps mine. “Hello,” he tells the woman with a charming smile.
I think she says something, but I can’t be sure. Her lips do a weird fish thing like she’s trying to gather her words. I try not to giggle, but it slips through.
Corbin walks over with a swagger to his strut that has me rolling my eyes. His sunglasses get clipped on the collar of his shirt before he reaches his free hand out to shake hers. For a few seconds, she just stares at it like she can’t believe someone like him is willing to touch her.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Oh, for the love of—
The woman finally collects herself before taking his hand and holding onto it with both of hers. I nibble my lip to suppress my smile as they talk in low murmurs, trying to play it off and look through the odd and end items for sale. From the corner of my eye, I notice a few other people with cell phones gather on the other end of the aisle.
Nerves picking up, I try getting Corbin’s attention as he speaks to his fan. The others point their phones in his direction and murmur to each other. I grip the candy in my hand and keep my head down.
“Corbin,” I whisper as I walk casually closer to him. Pretending to browse the coffee mugs near me, I clear my throat. “Corbin. There is a crowd starting.”
He looks from the woman across the aisle and nods once with pressed lips. “It was nice m
eeting you, but I need to go.”
I take the opportunity to walk past them and toward the register. My headache is becoming worse by the second and I’m half tempted to just leave without worrying about the stuff we grabbed.
Corbin appears next to me and drops his items on the counter with mine and pulls out a few twenty-dollar bills. He drops it on the counter and asks the man working to bag quickly and keep the change.
I don’t try to argue with him about paying as he slides his glasses back on and accepts the bags before I can even reach for them.
His hand goes back to the small of my back as we walk toward the door. People call out his name and ask him to sign something for them, causing us both to pick up speed. My heart races so fast it hurts, and there’s a rush throughout my limbs that has me overheating in my jacket.
Once we’re inside the car, he makes quick to start it and back out of the space. “Are you okay?”
All I can do is stare out the windshield as he pulls into the crowded street. Someone honks and passes us, but not before holding up their middle finger in our direction. I lean back and grip the armrest next to me, trying to even my breathing.
“Breathe, Little Bird,” he directs softly.
I close my eyes and nod.
“You’re pale.”
“I don’t feel well.”
He curses and the bag rustles next to me. The bottle of tablets shakes and appears in my line of vision. My hand shakily reaches out and accepts them, struggling with the cap.
“Hey,” he comforts, slowing down at a red light. He takes the bottle and opens it. “I know this is rough, but we’re okay. There’s a water bottle right here, drink some and take the medicine. You’ll feel better in a bit.”
My eyes go to the half-empty plastic bottle he’s referring to between us. I must have made a face as he chuckled and passed it to me.
“Don’t look so disgusted.” Wrapping my fingers around the bottle, I glance up at him. His eyes are focused in front of him, waiting for the light to change. “It isn’t like we haven’t exchanged bodily fluids before.”