CHAPTER 87

Live events were always a pain in the ass. Cole smiled, his side aching from a sharply-timed Summer elbow, and stopped, taking the pen from the closest girl and scribbling his name. Then again. Then again. He glanced at the closest suits, and they swarmed, pulling him away, Cole pretending to argue before signing one last notebook and stepping off. Summer snorted, and he glanced in her direction, her hands wrapped around a snow cone, her eyes meeting his before she looked away. Where the hell had she gotten a snow cone? He slapped at a bug on the back of his neck and ducked under the shade of the tent. From the far end of the road, the boom of a radio station satellite van started up. All this bullshit. But all necessary, all good. There’d be photos of this across every Seminole’s social media feed within the hour. #FortuneBottleCasting would be trending on Twitter, if it weren’t already. Every class would be skipped, and every hot coed would be here, Tweeting and Instagramming their hot pink nails off. The best advertising a day off filming could provide. And if it could get Summer Jenkins practically naked and on top of him? Hey, even better.

He climbed the steps into the air-conditioned trailer, and nodded to Don and Justin, taking the available seat and scooting it forward slightly. Before them, the west end of the trailer held a white backdrop, two photographers at work with cameras and lights. Behind them, a changing room and single chair, for the girl on deck.

“Eileen got the release forms?” Cole asked, twisting the top off a water bottle and taking a sip.

“Yep. Anyone walking in this door will be cleared and will have signed a non-disclosure. Not that any of this, with that circus outside, will be kept quiet.” He sighed, the seventh or eight non-verbal indicator of how he felt about this event.

It wasn’t smart. Not for the budget. What was smart was to have shot a different scene and had someone flown in from Central Casting. But Summer had challenged him, he’d called her bluff, and now they were here. Playing a game. And hell, it was fun. He glanced at the trailer window and saw Summer, seated at the table next to Eileen, her smile big as she laughed at something. See she was enjoying it too. And she only had a few months of obscurity left. Then the trailers would start, then the release would come, and overnight she’d be a household name. Poof. Everything, in an instant, different. She’d no longer be his secret; she’d belong to the world.

The trailer door opened, and a girl, blonde hair, the right height, the right build, stepped in. Tim handed her a robe, led her to the bathroom, and they all waited, a silent hum of anticipation in the room. A few minutes later, Cole heard the door open and the girl walked by, onto the set, her robe pulled tight, her smile gone, face nervous. Cole looked at her and saw Summer, her hunch against the couch, hands tight on her knees, her voice shaking.

“Next,” Cole said, Don turning to look at him, his eyebrows raising.

“What?” the girl said quickly, her hands suddenly moving, jerking on her sash. “I’m ready.”

“No.” Cole looked down at the page before him and prayed that she hadn’t already opened the robe. “Thank you for your time. There are signed movie posters by the exit. Justin?” Justin stepped up from his seat and to her side, his hand cupping her elbow as they moved past.

“What the fuck was that?” Don spoke out of the corner of his mouth, waiting for the door to shut before turning to Cole.

“She was nervous. Skittish. I don’t need another Summer, who will require a pep talk. I want a girl who wants to be seen.” He reclined in the seat and rested his boot on the table’s axle. “Half the girls on this campus dance topless at house parties on the weekend. Let’s find them and get this done.” There was a large whoop from outside the trailer, and Justin stepped back inside, a smile on his face.

“Girls are doing body shots off the radio station van.”

“See?” Cole spread his hands and leaned back in the chair. “Easy.” Maybe Summer was right. Maybe he would lose the bet after all. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe, with a different girl under his hands, he’d finally get her out from under his skin.

The door opened, a fresh blonde walking in, and he turned, his eyes locking with hers. She grinned, and confidence, with this one, wouldn’t be a problem.

CHAPTER 88

This was a stupid stupid stupid idea of mine. Especially because, riding back to Quincy, I was stuck in the far back of the truck, listening to a twenty-two-year-old girl prattle on about Emma Stone as if anyone gave two craps. Apparently Emma Stone was Carly’s favorite actress. And she saw that movie that Emma and Cole were in together—you know, the one with the theme park killer? And she loved it. And she really really really thought that Emma Stone and Cole should do something else together. A love story. And she wanted to know if Emma Stone was as sweet in person—KILL ME NOW. Seriously. I just wanted them to pull this car over, let me hop out into the street, and then just plow me down. Cole would probably enjoy it. And I could finally end the torture of listening to this woman.

She had a tattoo on the back of her neck. I would have pointed it out to someone, but that would have lost me my bet and—thirty minutes earlier—I was so excited about winning that I overlooked the little discrepancies that made her different than me. Like her chest, which was definitely bigger. And the belly button ring, sparkling out from the bottom edge of her shirt. Ida Pinkerton would not have a tattoo or a belly button ring. The tattoo was of a dove. Why would someone want a dove permanently etched on the back of their neck? Or anywhere else for that matter.

When I was fourteen, I’d wanted a tattoo. Had big plans for my eighteenth birthday: the Chinese symbol for grace tattooed along my ribs. Because, yeah, what was more graceful than a country hillbilly with a rib tattoo? Thank God that I outgrew that phase. Otherwise I’d have nothing to sit back here and mentally trash talk about. I sighed and settled deeper into the tiny third row. Tattoo and belly ring aside, the girl was perfect. Ridiculously perfect. I peeked at the photos they shot of her. Photos where she was butt naked and smiling sunnily into the camera, not an ounce of insecurity on that face. Nothing like me, my sniffling, baby self, curled into a ball on my trailer’s couch. Lord, I must have looked dumb. I was surprised that Cole did all this, allowed all this. I was surprised he didn’t just laugh at me and tell me to toughen up. That was probably what I would have done to a girl wasting everyone’s time and money.

I looked up front and saw him watching me. He glanced away, and I looked down. I felt sick. It was probably from riding in the back.

CHAPTER 89

It turned out that sex scenes have rehearsals just like a traditional scene. That would have been a good thing to know when I was in a stage three panic. It might have calmed my nerves to understand that Cole and I would walk through the scene fully clothed, just to understand what was happening, which cameras would be where, what would be said when. Also, instead of the camera operator right there by the bed, they were using the remotely operated cameraheads. Meaning there was some illusion of privacy. Unlike our kissing and office scenes, there wouldn’t be someone right there looking between my legs.