18. A Captivating Plot

18

A Captivating Plot

Emma

“Gosh, I’m so sorry,” Auston says to me for the hundredth time as he receives the boxes of takeout from Robyn. “I was supposed to treat you to dinner at a nice restaurant, and now we’re eating fast food in the hotel room.

I smile. “Don’t worry about it. Indoors is where I thrive, remember? I don’t get out much, so this is perfect for me. Plus, I love fast food even more than seafood.”

He winces. “Really?”

“Absolutely, and we’re here for work anyway,” I add. “You have a shoot in the morning, so we might as well turn in early.” As if I was planning on getting any sleep with him lying next to me. This One Bed situation is going to be the end of me, I know it.

We dig into our food, and I close my eyes to savor it. I wasn’t lying when I said I preferred fast food. I mean, the juicy burger, the crunch of the lettuce, the toastiness of the bread—what can beat that? Especially when you’re starving.

“Still, it’s frustrating sometimes. Not that I’m complaining,” he quickly adds. “I love my job, and I’m very fortunate to have this career. I know that. But the simplest of things become a whole operation.”

“Yeah.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m sorry about that. But you do get to go out alone and unnoticed sometimes, right? With your not-so-clever disguise?”

He smiles. “I do. In LA, it’s a little easier thanks to the sheer number of celebrities per one-mile radius. Some are harassed more than others. I’m usually okay. I can go grocery shopping without being bothered—that kind of thing.”

“See, that doesn’t make any sense,” I say, dipping a french fry in ketchup. “Why would you want to go grocery shopping? The girls and I pretty muc h fight over whose turn it is to go.”

He laughs. “I don’t know. It’s just such a normal thing to do. When you have the chance to do loads of extraordinary things, you suddenly crave the ordinary.”

“That makes sense,” I mutter. Honestly, I feel bad for him. I can tell he loves his job, but why does acting have to come with all this extra stuff? Seems like a burden and a blessing at the same time.

I’m almost done with my burger when a notification lights up my phone. It’s from the girls’ chat. I open it to a picture of them in front of the Eiffel Tower. Underneath is written, “ Tu nous manques ” and “We miss you.” My heart constricts. I miss them too. More than I thought I would.

“Something wrong?” Auston asks as he’s grabbing a fry.

I show him the picture.

He squints at the screen. “Oh, they just sent you this?”

“Yep,” I sigh, looking at the picture again.

“Isn’t it, like, three a.m. in France?”

I frown. “Good point. They’re probably jet-lagged. I’ll ask.”

“You miss them?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I take a sip of my drink. “Funny, because I was always a loner. Then I met those girls, and it changed everything. You’ve got Hayley, who’s the epitome of strength and reason. Then there ’s Alice, the ultimate romantic who always sees the glass half full, no matter the situation. We’re all so different from one another. Yet I can’t imagine life without them.”

“How did you guys meet?” he asks.

I take a bite of my burger. “On Bookstagram.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Bookstagram?”

“It’s the bookish part of Instagram. When you only follow bookish accounts or bookish hashtags, the algorithm serves you related content. It feels like a whole different app.”

“Oh, right. I don’t spend much time on social media. But I love that it brought you together. I’ve heard so many horror stories about social media, so it’s a welcome change.”

“Yeah.” I pop a fry in my mouth. “I wasn’t a fan either. I thought I’d never even make an account. I’m not a very social person,” I joke. “But I wanted a place to share about books, find more titles. And when I did, I found my people. As we say, I came for the books, but I stayed for the friendships.”

“It sounds like a great community.”

A soft smile pulls at my lips. “It really is. So, I guess you and I are similar, in a way. You’re an introverted extrovert. I’m a social loner. I enjoy being alone, but I value the connections I’ve made. I’m hopel essly attached to my friends, and I’d do anything for them.”

“I get it. It’s different with the people you love.”

The way he looks at me when he utters the word “love” sends a shiver through my body.

“Anyway.” I clap my hands. “I’m going to go take a shower and put on my PJs.”

He blinks a few times, nodding. “Okay. I’ll clean this up.”

Snatching my bag, I head to the bathroom. It’s really luxurious with its walk-in shower and large bathtub. Everything is finished in marble, and for a second, I debate taking a long bath with my Kindle. We don’t have a bathtub at home. But then, I remember Auston is literally in the same room.

I opt for a quick shower instead.

“Still a fan, huh?” Auston asks, glancing at my T-shirt when I step out of the bathroom.

I look down at my Stardust Sensation graphic shirt and smile. “Not really, but it’s my favorite shirt, and I didn’t want to throw it away.”

He grins. “Yeah, I remember. There was a hole in the neck, even back then, but you kept wearing it.”

My cheeks warm. “You were just jealous of Bobby.”

He snorts loudly. “Puh-lease. I was not. Besides, I always thought Kyle was your favorite.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Nope. I was always a Bobby girl.”

“Well, glad we cleared that up.” He offers his signature smile, and I almost burn another hole in my shirt. “You can sleep in the bed. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

I glance at the tiny couch facing the TV and feel a tug of pity. “You won’t fit. Maybe I should sleep on it.”

“Absolutely not. I’m a grown man. I’ll manage. Besides, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable for the next six nights,” he says, walking to the table to grab something from his bag.

“What about you being uncomfortable?” I say, leaning against the bed. “You’re the one who has to work crazy hours.”

He shoots me a reassuring smile, holding his toiletry bag. “I promise you, I’ll be fine.”

I bite my lip, scrutinizing the immensity of the king-size bed. “Or we could both sleep in the bed?” My cheeks catch fire, and I avert my eyes. “I mean, this thing is huge. We probably won’t even notice the other is there, right?” I add with a forced chuckle.

He stares over my shoulder at the bed for a second, then looks me in the eye. “Are you sure? I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine, Austo n.” I roll my eyes, perching on the edge of the bed. “We’re friends; we can share a bed. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He clears his throat. “Right. Okay then. Um, I’m going to take a quick shower too,” he adds before taking off his T-shirt in slow motion and—okay, fine. It’s normal speed, but a girl can dream, right? See, that’s why I like books. You can let your imagination run wild. Cue the slow motion.

“Are you okay?” He arches an eyebrow.

That’s when I realize I haven’t moved an inch, too busy ogling him.

“Um, yep. I was just . . . thinking about something.”

He wrinkles his forehead, an amused look springing to his face. “Okay.”

Crap. All that ogling, and I didn’t even glance at his abs. No! I don’t want to look at them. I’ve seen enough.

Grabbing my Kindle from my bag, I sit back down on the mattress. I need to focus on something else. Auston never claimed a side, so I get first dibs. Once I’m comfortable, I pull my e-reader out of its sleeve and start reading my celebrity romance. Okay, I know I said I wanted to think about something else, but in my defense, I’m a mood reader. And right now, I’m in the mood for a movie star romance. Is that so wrong? I don’t think so. It’s called research.

When Auston comes back into the r oom, he’s wearing a simple black shirt and pants.

“Hope this is okay?” I wave my Kindle. “I wanted to read a few chapters before bed.”

“Sure. What’s that?” He points to the device.

“An e-reader.”

“Oh, that’s very modern of you,” he says, sitting next to me.

“I know.” I chuckle. “I was skeptical too, at first, but I love it. The screen uses E-ink, so it looks like a printed page and doesn’t damage my eyes like an LCD screen would. Plus, it carries all my books, so I don't have to choose which ones to take with me.” Not that I usually go anywhere, but we’ve established I’m a mood reader. “Plus, it doesn't take up much space, and e-books are cheaper than paperbacks.”

Which was really handy back when I could barely afford dinner. Thank goodness for authors accepting me into their ARC teams.

“And what’s on the back?” he asks, cocking his head to see the backside of my Kindle.

“Oh, yeah. I love stickers,” I say, flipping the device so he can see my collection. There’s a “Mood Reader” one. Another says “Bookish Girls are Hot.” And of course, the classic “I Love My Men Fictional.”

He frowns, shaking his head. “L ooks like another addiction. A sticker one.”

I laugh, sitting cross-legged on the mattress. “In bookish vocabulary, we say it’s a sticker collection.”

“Ah! I see.” He tilts his chin, gesturing to my feet. “Oh, and I didn’t see the socks. I should shut up now.”

I don’t need to look at my socks to know that they say, “If my book is open, your mouth is shut.”

Weirdly enough, I’m not the least bit bothered by Auston’s interruption. And I’m not ready to contemplate what that means.

“Do you mind if I watch TV? Don’t want to bother you with the sound.”

I shake my head. “Not at all. Go ahead. This book is so captivating, nothing can pull me out of it.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about a movi—ing truck employee,” I say, catching myself just in time. Auston definitely doesn’t need to know I’m reading about a movie star. We’re already sleeping in the same bed. No need to fill that awkward jar more.

He tilts his head. “A moving-truck employee? That’s different.”

“Yeah! Very. He almost runs over a girl, and they fall in love.”

Well, I guess I can rule out “a uthor” as a backup career choice. With all the books you read, that’s the best plot you could come up with?

He breathes out a chuckle. “Okay. That's kind of strange. Who is it by?”

“Oh, someone unknown.” I wave a hand in dismissal. “It’s her debut, actually. A French author writing in English. That’s probably why it’s so weird. Maybe moving truck guys are gods over there. Who knows? Anyway.”

He nods. “Right. I’ll leave you to it.”

I’m trying to control my breathing, but my chest is heaving up and down like crazy. What on earth was that just now?

I focus back on my reading, and after a solid fifteen minutes of glancing at Auston, I’m finally able to get back into the story. Great. Now my reading speed is going to be all messed up.

After a while, he switches the TV off. “Well, I’m going to turn in, but don’t stop reading on my account. It doesn’t bother me. Good night, Emma.”

“I’m going to sleep too, actually,” I say, turning my screen off. “Good night.”

We both get up to pull out the bedsheets and slip beneath them. I lean on my side, facing the wall and not Auston, but my body is buzzing. I ca n’t lie still, stretching my legs, then bending my knees. And I’m hot. Way too hot .

There’s a zero percent chance I'll get any sleep tonight. Is this place called the Heatwave Hotel or something?

“ Because girl. You’re the one that I want ,” Auston sings, and I burst into laughter.

“What are you doing?”

“ You’re the one that I need. The only— ”

“Auston,” I laugh, the tension evaporating.

“What? You forgot the lyrics? Or maybe you only know Bobby’s part.”

I grab my second pillow and hit him with it.

He lets out a loud laugh. “Come on, now. Sing with me. I know you want to.”

He’s right. Now, it’s stuck in my head. I start singing along, and we crank up the volume, singing and laughing in unison.

A loud knock slams the connecting door. “Hey!” Madison’s muffled voice calls, her tone dripping with annoyance. “Can you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

We explode into uncontrollable laughter—really loud laughter—and she bangs on the door again. I flip over to laugh into my pillow instead.

“Sorry,” Auston yells, but he laughs even more.

“Shh,” I say. “We have to g o to sleep.”

And I don’t know how much longer we stay like that, burying our laughter in our pillows, but I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Especially when there are no books involved.