“Well,” I said, putting the popcorn bowl onto the table. “I hope you get it. I think it would be really good for you to do something other than action movies.”
His head snapped up. “You do?”
“Of course.” I folded my arms around my knees. “Girls will love it, and if you can pull of the main character angst then you’ll be even more famous than you are now.” I tried to keep my voice light. The night had been so fun that I hadn’t thought about the fact that he’d be leaving soon. I would be alone again.
But I still had Smith.
And Jamie.
“Maybe.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t really care about the fame though, honest. I just want to do something different. I don’t want to be the type of guy that does a ton of huge blockbuster hits but can never get out of that type casting, you know?”
“You won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re Jamie Jaymeson,” I teased. “You can do anything, right?”
His face lit up, he reached across the couch and grabbed my hand. “Thanks, Pris. Sorry to be so depressing.”
I squeezed his hand back. “No problem.”
A loud crash sounded outside the condo.
I shrieked, Jaymeson cursed about the condo being haunted.
“What was that?” I whispered.
“Ghosts,” he answered seriously. “Punishing us for watching Harrison Ford.”
“Be serious!” I released his hand with a jerk and got up to my feet.
He pulled me back down to the couch. “No, let me check it out.”
“What are you going to do? Swear at the ghost?”
“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the sliding glass door. Carefully, he slid it open and poked his head outside. “Hmm, I don’t see anything that would—” He slammed the doors shut, locked them, and pulled the blinds.
“Ghosts?” I offered.
“Worse.” He gave a shudder. “Huge storm. The water’s going crazy out there and one of the neighbors’ potted plants fell off the ledge and took a swim in the Pacific.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I hate storms,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Just like scary movies?” I yawned.
“Yeah.” Jaymeson smiled tightly. “It’s late. I guess I should be going since we have all those crazy boxes to pack tomorrow.”
He walked slowly to the door then turned. “Breakfast?”
“Are you asking if I’m eating breakfast or are you offering to cook me breakfast?”
Jaymeson shoved his hands into his front pockets, at times he seemed so unsure, like I was going to snap at him or something. “I was kind of offering.”
“Then, yes.” I smiled. “Breakfast.” I ignored the pitter-patter of my heart at his bright hopeful smile. I was not falling for him. Not at all. He was a player. He was a freaking movie star, and last time I fell for that smile I ended up rejected and totally humiliated.
“Great.” His accent was always more pronounced at night as if he was too exhausted to remember to say his words differently, I kind of loved it. I loved how he said his R’s. I loved how his mouth formed around words differently than mine did.
I needed to stop staring at his mouth. That much was clear.
“Night, Pris.” He opened the door and left.
With a sigh I got off the couch and cleaned up, putting the bowl into the dishwasher and wiping the counter tops. I needed to get some food if I was going to be staying there for the next week or so.
I checked my phone.
Two missed calls.
Both from my dad.
He was probably freaking out, but my parents and I had always had one of those relationships. We loved each other, but we were distant. Not in a bad way, just in a way that they knew I was an adult and they trusted me.
I sent him a quick text.
Me: I’m fine, will call in the morning, kinda sleepy. All is well — btw does the house still have insurance? What do you need me to do while you guys are with Dani?
He texted back right away.
Papa Bear: Okay sweetie, Stella told us you were okay, just wanted to hear your voice. Stay safe at the rock star’s house and try not to break anything. Kidding. We’ll discuss the insurance later. I’m… I’m hoping everything will be fine. It always is, right?
Me: Right…
Papa Bear: Are you scared?
Me: ?
Papa Bear: Being alone. Want me to send someone over? I hate that you’re by yourself. You always cried when it was too dark.
Laughing, I texted him back.
Me: I’ll just keep my phone close, if I panic I’ll call you and you can chase the darkness away.
Papa Bear: I’ll always chase the darkness away.
Me: I know.
Papa Bear: It will be fine. Always is. Get some rest. Love you, sweetie.
Dad, optimistic to a fault. That’s why everyone loved him. If it was raining, he’d say to be thankful we weren’t in a drought. If it was snowing, he’d say be thankful that the cold weather is killing all the spiders.
I turned off the lights to the living room and was about ready to go into the bedroom — the one Jaymeson had convinced me to sleep in — when I heard a knock on the door.
Other than Jaymeson, who even knew I was there?
I looked through the peephole to see a drenched Jaymeson waiting for me on the other side.
With a jolt I pulled the door open and jerked him inside. “You’re going to get sick standing in the rain. What’s wrong?”
He crossed his arms over his muscled chest. My mouth went dry. His shirt clung to him like a second skin, I didn’t mean to, but I started checking him out. Who wouldn’t? His body was tightly muscled, as if he hadn’t eaten a cookie a day in his life. Every ridge of his impressive stomach was thickly corded. I hadn’t realized how cut he was. I mean, I always thought it was movie magic.
Magic? Yes. The movies? No.
“I, erm…” He rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m scared shitless.”
“Of the rain?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “And the movie, and the thunder.”
“Have you always been afraid of storms?”
“What, are you a profiler?” he snapped, an angry tone to his voice.
“Whoa!” I held up my hands. “I was just curious — stop attacking me.”
“Sorry,” he grumbled, bits of water rolling off his chiseled face and onto the floor.