You might think maybe scooting away from him could’ve solved the problem, but I was not a pussy; I would never shy away from a guy just because I wanted him. Screw that. If he wanted to play with me, I’d play him right back.
Trying my best to breathe from my mouth without looking like a weirdo, I leaned toward him and let my arm rest against his as he checked the script in his hands. He seemed so relaxed, which angered me even more.
There I was trying my best not to act like he was affecting me, and he didn’t even notice that I was having a mental breakdown from his proximity. Hell, I was seconds away from letting my inner singer out to play and singing him “Pillowtalk” by Zayn.
How fun it would be to piss off the neighbors with Adam Connor, indeed—especially when those neighbors were Olive and Jason.
My mind millions of miles away, naked in a king bed with Adam, I had trouble focusing on his words when he started talking.
“In this one I’m supposed to be a devoted husband to a socialite only to end up killing her and running away as a dedicated detective tries to catch me.”
“Boring,” I managed to say.
“Yea, that got a no from me too.”
“Shouldn’t your agent get something better for you?”
“He should, which is why I’m getting rid of him.”
I lifted an eyebrow and gave him a side-glance. “From what I hear, you’re getting rid of an awful lot of people. Is it true what they’re saying? That you are lashing out at people who work for you because of the divorce?” I made the mistake of looking into his eyes, and he held my gaze with a hard expression on his face.
“Looks like spying on someone isn’t enough for you, you also keep track of them through the tabloids.”
“Please, why would I even keep track of what’s going on in your life? I just happened to read about it when I was looking through Olive and Jason’s premiere photos. One link took me to another and then another…I wasn’t checking up on you, trust me. I lived in your house for a week, remember? There is nothing about you that’s exciting. Hell, even Dan has a more colorful life than you.”
He tossed the script away with unnecessary force and it landed on the floor. I gave him a quizzical look, but he pretty much ignored me, already focused on the next script.
“Is that the winner?”
“How did you come to know about Dan’s colorful life?” The question was harmless enough, but the way he was holding himself so still as if the answered mattered felt strange.
“Because we talked? He doesn’t hate me as much as he did when he first found me in your backyard. Can’t say for sure if he loves me or not, but at least he is engaging in conversation now. I even made him laugh a few times. We’re becoming friends, I think. I’m wearing him down.”
“When did you guys have time to talk this thoroughly?”
“When you sent him to the station with me. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged my question off. “This one is about a brother and sister. They are con artists and work with this small group of people. My character is supposed to fall in love with his mark and then end up killing his sister when she goes after his love.”
“That sounds a bit more interesting,” I conceded.
He grunted and turned a few pages, handing the script to me when he was done. “The dialogue isn’t strong enough. The sister should be a stronger character if she is going after his love interest. She is made out to be this unstable person, which takes away from the character. Someone else has to go over it and change things around.”
I looked at it and couldn’t see anything jump at me. “Change what?”
He leaned closer to me and our legs touched.
Good Lord! He was practically abusing me at that point.
“Let’s do a read-through, you’ll see what I mean.”
“Read-through?”
“Read the lines to me, Lucy.”
“Who am I? Laurel?” I pointed at the name and looked at Adam.
“You’re Laurel, my sister. And I’m Damon.”
“Okay. You start.”
At the top of the script it said, Ext. The Cemetery – Night then said Laurel was walking over to Damon with a suspicious look on her face as he waited for her next to their father’s grave.
Suddenly he got up and offered me his hand. “Let’s stand up so you can get into your role.”
I snorted, but still took his outstretched hand to stand up. “I’m not going to be your costar. I don’t need to get into my role.”
“Come on, humor me.”
“You want me to do this because you think I’m unstable too, is that it? I’ll make the character more believable for you?”
“Don’t be so suspicious, Lucy. Just read the damn lines.”
The scene was just two siblings talking. What could be the harm, right? Who would skip the chance to read lines with freakin’ Adam Connor—especially lines that might very well end up on the silver screen.
“What are you going to read?” I asked, looking around to see if there was another copy.
“I already read through it twice. I’m good with that scene. Just start reading.”
The script in one hand, I smoothed down my shirt, shook out my shoulders, and read the damn lines.
“Why did you ask me to meet you here, Damon?”
Adam reached out and lifted my chin with his fingertips, short-circuiting my brain.
In the background Frank Sinatra was singing “Fly Me To The Moon”.
“You’re supposed to look at me when you’re speaking. And put a little more emotion into it. The scene is set; read through the lines to get a sense of what the script gives you.”
I willed my heart and a few lady parts to calm down then looked straight into his bottomless green eyes. “I’m not an actress…be happy with the amount of emotion you’re getting.”
Greedy bastard.
I looked down at the script, memorized the next few lines, and this time said them without looking down.
“Why did you ask me to meet you here, Damon?”
“I thought it would be fitting,” Adam continued on with his acting.
“They thought siblings meeting at the cemetery would be fitting?” I asked, giving the papers in my hand a skeptical look. “And what the hell does this mean?” I pointed at the writing between the lines.
“I thought it would be fitting,” he repeated, looking at me pointedly.
Jesus, what the hell is your problem, dude?
I rolled my eyes and continued. “We haven’t been here for what? Fifteen years? Why now?”
“We sat by his tombstone and made a promise to each other, do you remember?”
“This is where our life started; of course I remember, Damon.”
He nodded solemnly and finally looked away from my eyes. “And now we’re at the end of another road.”
“What are you talking about, Damon?” I glanced at the script then back up at him.
He released a deep breath, ran his hand through his hair, and took a step forward, getting a bit too close for my comfort again. “I can’t do this anymore, Laurel. I can’t be a ghost in the night, I can’t pretend like I’m someone else. I want more for us.”
I hardened my voice as much as I could and read the next lines. “This is all about her, isn’t it, Damon? This is all about Jessie. She is nothing more than a mark, or did you forget that already?”