17. Seventeen

17

SEVENTEEN

S abrina was an idiot.

That was the kindest word I could think of to describe her.

When I met her in the lobby, she was wearing a skirt that was so short I was afraid I would see something obscene if the wind hit her just right. She was the type who eschewed underwear because she thought it made her dangerous and cool. Despite her assertion that she wasn’t interested in anything serious, she was very obviously lying. How did I know? It was written all over her face.

To someone like Sabrina, I was the perfect mark. There was interest in seeing me rebound—everybody was always talking about my potential—and I was the sort of story that would make for big headlines if I could get my act together. I was still young enough to hit it big, and my background meant that I was interesting.

Sabrina, as an up-and-comer, would happily latch on to my coattails for the ride up. She would be the perfect partner for two to three years as I made the rounds. Then she would cause some sort of drama and break free of me, which would allow her to use my head as a stepping stone on her way to five years of leading lady status.

I’d seen it all before. I wasn’t interested in it happening here.

In truth, I had no idea why I’d said yes to her invitation. I’d noticed her watching me on the set from the first day. You could practically see her doing the math as she worked out her plan. Even if she wasn’t the type of person who wanted to use me, however, the simple fact of the matter was that she wasn’t my type.

She was too young to have any life experience. The worst thing that had ever happened to her was the summer job her parents made her get when she was sixteen. It was at Taco Bell, and she still wasn’t over the shame. Those were her words by the way. She said that was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. If she knew the worst thing that had ever happened to me—or cared to really wrap her head around it—she would freak out.

It wasn’t just the age difference, though. If she wasn’t the worst person in the world—an exaggeration, but a fitting one—there still wouldn’t have been a spark. Her smile didn’t light up the room. Her laugh didn’t make me go warm all over. Her butt didn’t make me hard.

In a nutshell, she wasn’t Sam. That meant every word out of her mouth made me want to throw my drink in her face. Or, at the very least, get up and storm out of the bar.

I was trying to grow, though. I was trying to make this the project that catapulted me back to where I knew I belonged. Therefore, I listened to her. Or, well, at least feigned as if I were listening to her.

“Personally, I think they should’ve gone younger for the main witch,” she said as I played with my straw wrapper. “It only makes sense that a vampire would be turned on by the prettiest witch in the coven. They were insistent that your love interest be older, though.” Sabrina’s frown told me exactly what she thought about that decision.

“I think they made a good choice,” I said before thinking it through.

Sabrina snorted. “Oh, right. Go ahead and toe the line. I get it. We need the good press. Sam is too old, though. In five years—if this show carries on that long—she’s going to look like your grandmother.”

I didn’t mean to glare at her—no, really—but I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m older than her by two years.”

“Yeah, that’s not how it works.” Sabrina shook her head. “Thirty in Hollywood is really like forty-five. At twenty-two, I’m the proper age for you at thirty-two.”

I didn’t like her attitude. “Sam is a good actress.” I meant it. We played off each other well, and she was marvelous when it came to the quiet stuff. The furtive looks and soft smiles were where she excelled. I was buying our characters’ relationship, and I didn’t even like the genre.

“Are they making you say that?” Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “I know they’re making you guys go out for coffee and walk to set together so they can get photos. I didn’t realize they’d provided you with a script to follow with the rest of the cast, too.”

“They haven’t,” I shot back. “She is a good actress. I like her.”

“Since when?” Sabrina wasn’t having it. “You guys have hated each other from the first day. Everybody has been talking about it.”

“I don’t hate her.” Irritation had me by the throat. “She’s a good person. I actually like her a lot.”

“Right.” Sabrina nodded knowingly. “You’re good.”

I wanted to run away from her. Far, far away. I was just about to make up an excuse about how I couldn’t finish my drink and had to leave—I figured talking about the big dump I had to take would be enough to have Sabrina backing off—when the door to the bar opened to allow entrance to two familiar faces.

Miles, talking a mile a minute, had his hand pressed to Sam’s lower back when he ushered her inside. Obviously, they’d already eaten and were now finishing up their date with drinks. How had they ended up in the same location as me? More importantly, what all-powerful entity was trying to scar me for life?

“Speak of the crone,” Sabrina drawled.

I darted a glare at her before turning my attention back to Miles and Sam. They were settling at a little table in the corner, a candle glowing between them, and Sam looked rapt as Miles yammered on about something I knew had to be boring.

“I wonder if that’s how she got the job,” Sabrina mused.

It took me a moment to realize she’d said something. “What?”

“Sam.” Sabrina was nodding her head as if figuring out something important. “That’s the answer to the riddle. I couldn’t figure out why they hired her—I auditioned for her role, did you know that?—and yet they went with someone older and not even a quarter as pretty.”

Was she serious right now? She couldn’t be.

“It’s Miles. He has a thing for Sam—he probably thinks he can get her to retire because she has no other prospects and have his babies—and that’s why she got the role. It makes perfect sense.”

I glared at her. “Did you really just say you’re prettier than Sam?” I asked finally. Sabrina had spouted a lot of nonsense, but that was the part that bothered me the most.

“Of course I said it,” Sabrina replied. “It’s the truth, too. I mean … look at me and look at her. I pop and she … just does not.”

It was Sabrina’s disgusted lip curl that sent me over the edge. “You’re not prettier than her.” I shouldn’t have said it. I should’ve followed through on my original plan and told her I felt a big dump coming on so I could make my escape. I wouldn’t have been me if I hadn’t gone for the wrong choice, though.

Sabrina’s first instinct was to throw her head back and laugh like a loon. When I continued to stare daggers at her, she stopped laughing and started frowning. “How can you even say that with a straight face?”

“Because it’s the truth.” I’d gone this far. I figured I might as well go all the way. “She’s naturally pretty. She lights up within. You’re cold and you’re buried under two inches of makeup.”

“Um … all movie stars wear makeup.”

“Nobody needs that much makeup.” I was warming up to my topic. “While we’re at it, your skirt is ridiculous. You don’t need to put yourself on display to get others to look at you. At least that’s what I think you’re doing. Just be yourself.”

I thought better of what I’d said. “Actually, figure out who you are—make sure it’s a better version of yourself than what you’re boasting now—and then be yourself.” I stood and dug for my wallet. I found a twenty and threw it on the table to cover my drink and a tip. “Do you need me to walk you back to the hotel?”

Even though I didn’t like Sabrina—heck, I loathed her—I wasn’t the sort of guy who would leave her to make her way in the dark alone.

“I’m not done,” Sabrina fired back.

“Make sure you don’t leave with someone you don’t know,” I admonished her. “The locals will be all over you and you don’t know if they’re dangerous.”

“Why aren’t you all over me?” she demanded.

I opted for the truth. “You’re not my type.”

Sabrina snorted. “I’m everybody’s type.”

“You’re really not.” My goal was to slink out of the bar without anybody noticing, but when I lifted my chin, I found Sam watching me with unreadable eyes. Across from her, Miles just kept talking. She nodded occasionally, but her focus was on me.

I wanted to storm over there, grab her hand, and make a big dramatic exit as everybody applauded. I didn’t, though. That would hurt both of us. Instead, I swallowed hard and headed for the door.

The night breeze smacked me hard. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t exactly warm either. You could feel fall creeping through the darkness as it pushed out summer.

Witch’s Brew Cafe was on Derby Street. I knew the layout of Salem well enough to find my way back to the hotel without using GPS. Despite that, I found myself dragging my feet outside. I walked across the road, hid under the eve of Witch Way Gifts, and stared at Sam through the window.

She nodded a lot. She smiled a few times. None of the smiles were real. They were for Miles’s benefit. I could read her well enough to ascertain that. She wasn’t interested in him—which thank God, because I would’ve melted down despite my best efforts—but she was still her usual self. She had to make him important because she never undercut others. That simply wasn’t who she was.

After thirty minutes of watching her—and yearning—I started back. I didn’t want to be caught outside lurking like a loser when they left, and it looked as if they were getting ready to leave. I cut down a little sidewalk not far from the bar. It led me into an ornate garden that I wasn’t expecting. I stopped long enough to check my phone to make sure I wasn’t going to get lost going back—apparently the walkway went all the way to Essex Street, so I was good—when it happened.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a soft voice said.

I jerked to look over my shoulder and found Sam standing there, alone.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted. I sounded as if I was in the midst of getting strangled, but she’d caught me off guard. Was it relief or worry that was fueling me? I couldn’t even say.

“I saw the garden sign when I was walking back, and it looked open,” she replied. “I thought I would give it a look. I like gardens.”

“Yeah?” I had never felt more awkward in my life. “Where’s Miles?”

“He joined Sabrina when I said I wanted to head home and get some sleep.”

“Oh.”

“That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “If he wants to take on Sabrina, more power to him. She’ll use and abuse him, but maybe that’s his thing.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. She took a tentative step toward me, and I swear I could hear her heart beating from fifteen feet away. Or maybe that was my heart. “You left kind of fast,” she noted.

“Sabrina makes me itchy.”

Her lips curved, and I swear it was as if the sun had come out. “Maybe it’s the Syphilis.”

I laughed, but the sound was harsh. “You shouldn’t be walking home alone,” I said out of the blue. “It’s not safe.”

“You left Sabrina to walk home alone.”

“Yes, well, I knew she wouldn’t be going home alone.” I took another step toward her. I swear it was as if I was being jerked forward by a magnet. “Miles shouldn’t have let you walk back alone.”

“I told him I would be fine. He wanted to stay and celebrate the dailies from today. Apparently, they were good.”

“Once we started touching,” I assumed.

She was the one who took a step forward this time when she nodded. “Are you okay?”

“No.” I wasn’t going to lie. Not now. Not to her or myself. “I am not even remotely okay.”

“Me either.”

I held out my hand for her. “Let’s walk through the garden.”

She eyed it a moment, but it didn’t take her long to slip her hand in mine. “We’re not making things better for ourselves,” she said as we picked a leisurely pace through the lighted garden.

“I’m not sure there is an easy way out for us now,” I replied.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” I squeezed her hand tightly. “I’m not sure I can stay away from you, though.”

“I know.” She sounded resigned. “I just don’t want to end up hurt.”

“I don’t want you hurt. You have no idea how much I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“But?” she prodded.

“But my hormones seem to be waging a war … and you’re the prize.”

“Do you want to win?”

“So much, you have no idea.”

“Yeah.” She made a growling sound in her throat. “I don’t know what to do here, Leo. I feel as if whatever decision we make is going to end up hurting somebody down the line.”

“Aren’t we already hurting?” I was genuinely curious. “I know I am. I feel as if I’m caught in a horror movie.”

“Have you ever done a horror movie?” It wasn’t the smoothest attempt to redirect the conversation, but I gave her credit for it. She was trying to figure things out. I had to give her time to do that.

“No, but it’s on my bucket list. What about you?”

“I would totally do a horror movie.” She let loose a little giggle. “I sometimes practice my scream when nobody is around.”

“Let me hear it.”

“No way.” Sam’s eyes went wide as she glanced around. “There are houses all around us. Do you want the cops to come? They’ll think you’re killing me. I’m just that believable.”

I chuckled and shook my head as we emerged on Essex Street. “What franchise would you want to be in?”

“Oh, good question.” She leaned in closer to me and I inhaled her body spray. Did she have to smell so good? I was like Pavlov’s dog and reacted to her scent whenever I got a whiff of it now. “If I’m being truthful, Friday the 13th is my all-time favorite franchise.”

“Really?” I wasn’t expecting that. “I thought you were going to say Scream .”

“Oh, I would totally be in the first or second Scream. That one in New York was good too until everybody started getting stabbed seven times and walking around two minutes later.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, that was ridiculous.”

“I like the idea of the lake and the cabins, though,” she explained. “I like some of the Halloween movies, but the atmosphere is just better in the Friday the 13th movies.”

I could see that. “You would make a good scream queen.” We turned down the street that led to the hotel, and my heart began to pound.

“Thank you. I think I would too.” Her eyes moved to me. “Which franchise would you want to be in?”

“ Texas Chainsaw Massacre .”

“Would you want to be Leatherface?”

I shook my head. “I would want to be one of the crazy relatives.”

“That makes you creepy. I hope you know that.”

I kept hold of her hand. I had no intention of dropping it. If she dropped mine, then I would have to deal with it. I wanted to see what she would do, though.

She held tight as we walked through the door and headed straight to the elevator. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as the doors slid open and we stepped inside.

There were people in the lobby, but I didn’t look at them. I had no idea if anybody we knew was sitting on the couch and chairs. Frankly, I didn’t care. In this moment, it was just the two of us.

She pressed the button for our floor, and we made the ride to the sixth floor in silence.

Each step after that was excruciating, but I didn’t let go of her hand. When we reached our rooms, I stood in the middle of the hallway like an idiot. Was she going to invite me in again? Would we die out here instead, with both of us refusing to speak?

“It’s your turn,” she said out of nowhere. Her voice sounded shaky.

I jerked my eyes to her. “What’s my turn?”

“We did my room last night,” she prodded.

“Oh.” I exhaled heavily and pulled out my keycard with my left hand. My right was still wrapped around her hand, and I had no intention of letting go. “You want to come in?” I shoved open the door.

She eyed the room, then me, then nodded. “Yeah. I just want you to know that I know we’re making a mess of this.”

“Do you care?”

“You know what? In this moment, I really do not care.”

I was right there with her. “I can’t stay away from you. We’re going to have to figure it out.”

“So, we’ll figure it out. Later, though.” She gave me a surprising shove toward my open door, her eyes lit with intent. “You need to start moving.”

“Are you sparking?” I asked.

“Yup.”

I finally let go of her hand, but only because I was pulling her into my arms. The door hadn’t even fallen shut yet. “Thank God. I’m going to spark the crap out of you.”

“Finally something I want to do today.” Her mouth headed toward mine like a missile.

She was what I wanted. I couldn’t pretend otherwise. I had no idea how this was all going to work out. I just knew I wanted to find out.

In this moment, that was the only thing that mattered.