16. Cat

The volleyball scenewasn't terrible. It's something I know well, and we basically just had to play a low-key game of two on two with a lot of smiling and laughing while they filmed and took pictures. But now we've moved on to the picnic scene, and I've suddenly forgotten how to have a picnic with friends. Maybe because these models are gorgeous and my face feels underdressed in comparison. Or maybe my body is too awkward for relaxed fake picnicking.

Either way, I'm blowing it, and Noah is watching the whole thing unfold from behind the camera with that adorable fluffy dog in his arms. Alonzo is here now, but Noah is still holding the dog. It's by choice, and it's one of the cutest things I've ever seen.

I still can't get the sound of him soothing her through FaceTime out of my head. It was a side of Noah I'd never seen, and I really liked it.

Most of what I've seen of Noah this summer have been sides I hadn't seen before. The teasing. The attention to people's needs. Has he always been so thoughtful and I never noticed because I was too busy being bullied by his sister and hating his family? Or is this a more recent development?

Bree reaches across the sand and squeezes my knee. She flashes me a smile while we wait for makeup to finish touching up some of the girls' faces. This Florida heat is melting us. "You're doing great."

"You're being nice," I counter, my back sticky and my shoes totally gone. "This is so not natural for me."

Bree shrugs one shoulder. She's still in a swim top and shorts, her long dark hair perfectly waved. She's a mermaid wearing her legs, a natural at all of this. "You're fooling everyone, then."

Alonzo walks toward us on the phone, his eyebrows raised high, his eyes wide. "Yes, if you'll just hold a moment," he says, then pulls the phone away and hits a button, probably to mute it. He gives Bree a meaningful look. "Do you have a second to take this?"

She goes still. "Is it?.?.?."

"Yes," Alonzo says, unable to dampen his smile.

Bree is on her feet and rushing toward him immediately. She takes a deep breath before accepting the phone and starting toward the other side of the beach, away from the noise and waves and people. "This is Bree Belacourt," she says.

The makeup girl reaches me, and I stand so she can do her job. She adds mascara because I probably didn't have on nearly enough, then fixes up my lips. They still look natural though, thankfully. At least in my phone camera.

Noah walks toward me when the makeup girl moves on. "How's it going over here?"

"I forgot how to eat sandwiches, I guess."

"You don't have to actually eat anything, you know." He glances sidelong at the food. "It's probably heavy on the sand right now anyway."

Oh, good point. "It's just so awkward. All of it. I'm not a natural at this whole modeling thing. I just keep thinking about where my hands are and what my face is doing. They'll probably need to edit me out when we're all wrapped."

Noah chuckles, shaking his head, then leans down to let the dog onto the sand. She walks away for a bit and then back, where she sits right on top of one of his feet.

"Needy little thing," I say.

Noah looks at me from under his lashes. "I don't mind it. She's grown on me."

Are we talking about the dog or me?

There's a shout from the other side of the beach. Bree stomps toward the stairs, her face streaming with tears.

Alonzo rushes behind her. "Don't leave, Bree. We have to finish the shoot!"

"I?.?.?. can't!" she wails, running for the stairs. Her face is red and splotchy, her tears so heavy it's a wonder she can see anything at all.

Noah curses under his breath, then takes off after his sister. Peanut gives a yelp when she realizes she's being abandoned, so I lean down and pick her up, but I'm not the one she wants. I watch Bree tear up the stairs toward the resort and—probably—their family home, Alonzo a few steps behind her, Noah at the bottom.

Gina—short dark hair and a pencil skirt, even out here—is following Noah, but the rest of the group appears too stunned to move.

Peanut barks, her yelp sad and high-pitched right in my ear. "You want your mom?" I say quietly, watching Bree disappear in a fit of tears.

I reluctantly follow.

There isnothing anyone can do to convince Bree to return to the beach. She has received bad news, apparently, and she's devastated. Alonzo took the dog from me when I reached the Belacourt house, but he returned to Bree's room to comfort her.

Noah, Gina, and Mateo are now standing on the back porch, talking with Christine and Alex and going over something on one of their computers. They have to reevaluate the whole thing because Bree is in no condition to be the face of their app launch campaign. Either way, she's straight up refusing to leave her room.

Maybe it's salvageable. Maybe they can still use the scenes they've already shot and piece them together in a shorter commercial than the original concept. The stills will be usable for ads, for sure, so not all is lost, I hope.

Bree's wails travel downstairs from her bedroom. I simultaneously feel bad for her and annoyed that she's put her brother in this situation. What happened to the show must go on? Yeah, she's gotten bad news, but is it really so awful she can't put on a smile and film just two scenes to finish the campaign?

There's that Belacourt entitlement I loathe.

I pull a LaCroix from the fridge and pop it open, taking a long pull. The sparkling cold water is refreshing. The back door slides open and Noah steps inside, closing it behind himself. He's looking at me warily like I'm Peanut on the day they met, approaching like he's afraid I'm going to snap at his hand.

"What's the problem?" I ask, setting the can on the counter.

"Aside from Bree suddenly being indisposed?"

I shake my head. "I know you don't want to be heartless, but sheesh. You can't pull out the contract and remind her what this campaign means and how much work it took to get ready?" I have an appreciation for that part after helping him for more than a week with preparations. That's not counting all the work they did before I arrived in Noah's life.

"We have no contract," he says. "She was just helping out, so we can't really do anything about that."

"You should have written up a contract."

"I will next time." He shoots me a smile. His face is relaxed, his brown eyes affectionate when they lay on me. I can't help but feel the tenderness there, like I really am Peanut and he's won my affection with his kindness.

Also, I'm fairly certain he has no intention of forcing his sister to sign a contract next time. Even if he had, he probably wouldn't force her into working while she's such a wreck.

It's just too much to hold his gaze. I look away and see that everyone on the back porch is watching us. They're waiting for something. Gina's arms are crossed over her chest and she's looking at me like I stole her lunch from the breakroom fridge and left just the carrots.

"Why is everyone staring?" I ask.

Noah doesn't look behind him. He knows what I mean, which sends trepidation through me.

"Tell me what they want, please."

"You." He speaks gently, but the word is full and rich, moving over my skin with a volley of shivers. I have to remind myself that Noah doesn't want me. That group on the deck does. "They want you to take over, Cat. There's a lot of good shots from volleyball and the picnic scene and?.?.?. and us building the castle together."

"You're trying to sell romance, though, and I've just been the giggly girl on the side."

He pauses. "Alex showed us the shots he captured while we built the castle. It actually works for the narrative."

"It works."

"With the right music, yeah."

His words sink in, past the shallow barrier and into the deep. He means it works with us. We are the romantic couple in this scheme. "What about the guy who played the love interest alongside Bree?"

"He'll become one of the group."

Because Noah will take his place. His brown eyes cut through me, his concern palpable. He's worried about me. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around how it will work. "You aren't even in the volleyball scene," I say. "Or the picnic."

"They can cut me in." He clears his throat and looks away. "They have a few shots of me during those scenes. I'm not in the action, but they have me on camera watching?.?.?. and smiling?.?.?. anyway, it works."

It's like they planned this.

"Did Bree really get a call, or is this all just an elaborate hoax?"

Noah laughs, the sound coming from his belly, which answers that question. "You think I'm that manipulative?"

"No, I don't."

"There are easier ways of kissing you, Cat."

My stomach drops clear to my toes.

The kiss in the surf. It was my idea.

"You don't have to agree to this," he says. "There are other options. We still have everyone booked for another day of shooting. We're only asking because it's the easiest way to salvage the footage we already have."

And time, and money. We're losing daylight and still have two scenes to shoot and no leading lady. I want to say no. It's not my thing, and I don't feel like I'm good at it. But the way Noah is looking at me now makes that impossible. He's hopeful, and it does something weird to my stomach. I don't think I could refuse him anything, which feels reckless and dangerous and exciting.

Besides, his sister just bailed on him, and after watching all the hard work he's put into this campaign, I can't be the reason it doesn't get wrapped up now. I want to help him. He deserves to have someone put him first.

"Okay."

"Okay?" he repeats back to me, clearly surprised.

I nod, warming up to the idea. "Yeah, I'll do it. But you owe me."

"You'll be paid, obviously."

This suddenly feels icky. "That's not what I mean, Pennybags. You already pay me well enough. Now you'll owe me a favor. Totally different."

His smile is gentle. It feels just for me. Intimate, even.

"Do you have a swimsuit under that?" he asks. His gaze stays on my face.

"No. Why?"

"Because you'll need it for the final scene. We have extras in wardrobe."

"Okay."

He turns around and gives a nod to the group waiting outside, and they visibly relax. Even Gina looks relieved, which is saying a lot, because so far she has seemed like she's made of stone—impenetrable, blank expressions, the whole thing.

Bree's wails continue to trail down to us from upstairs, so I head toward the door. "I guess we better get moving."

It takes about twenty minutes to find a swimsuit that fits well and matches the rest of the group, though they let me keep my own shorts on. I guess the narrative is that now I've taken my shirt off and I had this swim top on the whole time, which makes sense for what they want us filming later.

I can't think about that. I let them mess with my hair and brush something powdery over my nose and direct me back to the beach.

There's a team building a big bonfire on one end of the beach while another sets up lighting near the surf.

Christine and Alex have explained the situation to the other models. They're being positioned near the bonfire while the sun begins its descent. It's still pretty high in the sky, making me think we have time.

"We have about an hour of good lighting left, so we need to move quickly," Christine is saying while Alex moves a few people over, getting them drinks. A sound guy sets up music so the people dancing can move to the same beat. I probably look as lost as I feel right now.

Gina sits back in a chair a good distance away, watching the whole thing, but Mateo approaches. "You know the concept, Cat. Hot guy you've met on Scoutr, date's going well, your friends like him. You like him. There are possibilities." He looks me in the eye to drive home his point. "You know the drill better than most of these people."

"Right." He's right. I helped develop it. I know it well.

"Just pretend Noah is some hot guy you met on Scoutr, and things are going well," he repeats.

"Just pretend." I look across at Noah, where Melanie is messing with his hair. Unnecessarily, I might add. It looked good already.

"Let's roll," Christine calls, holding her camera up.

"Flirt," Mateo says. "Give him the eyes."

I want to yell at him to shut it because he's getting in my head, but then I look across the newly blazing fire where Noah is watching me, and my skin prickles at the attention. Flirty eyes, Cat. Just flirty eyes.

I have to kiss him tonight. My lips on his lips. When's the last time I kissed someone? Last year? I need a breath mint or a time machine so I can brush my teeth. I've never been so happy I chose to skip the garlic hummus at lunch.

My body moves toward the group against my better judgment, since it's late June in Florida and too hot for a fire. Noah is like a shirtless beacon, standing out amongst the guys. He's watching me, giving me the eyes Mateo recommended and laughing with the guy next to him like they're old friends.

"You like this guy, Cat," someone calls to me.

Right. Flirt. On camera. For the purpose of a national ad campaign.

Get out of your head, Cat.

I breathe out, then I search for Noah's attention again. He's starting to look worried, which is the last thing we need. If we don't get this shot correctly, they'll make us redo it until we do. I'm hopeful we won't have to use tomorrow's shooting day now that we're almost finished. If we can get everything wrapped tonight, we can be done.

With that in mind, I send Noah a smile. His dark brown eyes track my movements, and I sink into his attention. I move around the fire while he steps away from the guy he was talking to until we meet in the middle. We don't have to talk—the ad will have voiceover and music. I just need to act.

"Hug her," someone calls, probably Mateo.

Noah doesn't hesitate. His arms reach for me while I tenderly step into them. My hand flattens against his abs, which are warm and ridged beneath my fingers. His fingers press gently against my spine until I'm pulled close to his side, and all I can smell is that black and white cologne ad mixed with salty air and thick warmth and comfort.

I'm enjoying this, which is terrifying.

But, right now, I get to pretend it's okay.

Right now, at least, this guy is all mine. I'm not in danger of losing my home and livelihood or standing way too close to the ocean. I'm just a girl on a beach who is into a guy who is also into her. Noah's smiling down at me like I hold the moon. His smile is burning and focused and warm.

This acting thing might not be so bad after all.

I tilt my head back to look into his eyes, letting a smile fall over my lips, and lean into him. His mouth is so close, his expression roasting me like a bird on a spit. All I have to do is reach up a little, tilt my head a bit, and we'd be?—

"That's a wrap!" Christine calls, grinning. "You two are perfect."

My body freezes. Holy crap. I almost kissed him. Almost for real kissed him while I was so wrapped up in the scene.

"We should have gone with them from the beginning," Alex says, looking into the screen on his camera.

"Yeah, it's hard to argue with real chemistry."

I laugh a little too loudly, pushing against Noah's chest. "Chemistry. They're so funny."

He catches my hand, yanking me back. "I don't know what's funny about it."

Woah. Okay. That felt real. Did he miss the memo about wrapping the scene? Maybe he's trying that method acting thing—living the role even off-camera. The way he's smoldering down at me has my skin feeling hot and sticky.

"Let's move to the water," Christine calls. "We only need Cat and Noah for this part. Thanks everyone. Hang out in case we need to grab another scene. I think Noah plans to have dinner ready?"

"Yeah," he says, clearing his throat. "We have food coming to the house, and your rooms are all booked for tonight, so feel free to stick around."

We start toward the ocean. Waves crash and roll, drawing away and leaving flawless sand behind. My steps slow the nearer we get to the ocean. I don't like being this close to the water. It makes me uncomfortable. Logically, I understand I'm safe, but my chest still feels tight and my breathing speeds up anyway.

My parents drowned in unforgiving water. My mom, taken by a rip current, and my dad, who jumped in to save her unsuccessfully.

I haven't swum in the ocean since.

Well, except when I saved Mom's scarf, but I'm still convinced something else possessed my body that day.

"Ready?" Christine calls, directing one of the lighting guys to move with the big circular reflector thing.

I watch Noah's back move as he walks ahead of me, the muscles shifting with each step. His feet hit the shallow waves first, and my heart speeds up.

I can do this. I'm not going to be dragged out to sea if I stand in a foot of water. It doesn't even have to be a whole foot deep. We just need the waves to crash on our feet.

Noah turns and sees my hesitation. His dark brows pull together, and he looks from me to the water. "Hey," he calls, his attention shifting to Christine. "What about a shot of us walking on the beach first? Like we're leaving the bonfire."

"I like that." She glances back to the fire. "Let's get everyone back there. They can be partying in the distance, maybe a little out of focus."

Mateo turns back for the group to give them directions. Noah steps right up to me, takes my hand, and looks into my eyes. "We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"I can do this," I whisper, but it's pitiful. I don't sound strong or resolved.

His fingers slide between mine, taking my hand. He's tall and broad and his voice is nothing but business. He's the owner of this company. This entire operation is under his command. The king of Scoutr. When he talks to me, I think I can believe him. "I stand by what I said."

Something about his confidence and assurance makes me feel like I can do anything.