8. A Real Challenge

8

A Real Challeng e

Emma

This consulting thing is going better than I expected. Sure, my entire body still burns in Auston’s presence, but the fact that he doesn’t remember me makes things easier, like I’m the one in control. Plus, they really need help with this movie. Even with all the pointers I gave Auston this morning, we’re still far from my vision of Diego. Okay, I might be a little harsh, but you have to shoot for greatness.

“Let’s run through it again,” I say, taking a sip of the coffee I just grabbed from Rise & Grind after lunch. “It’s better, though. I would just pause more between the words. Diego is a contemplative man. He takes his time when speaking.”

He nods. “Let me try again.” His eyes glaze over, and his expression shifts, as if he just donned a mask.

“You’re torture,” he croons, his dark eyes sinking into mine. “Everywhere. When I wake up in the morning, or go to bed at night. When I’m in a room full of people, or alone with my thoughts. You’ve broken me, Sarah.”

I sit on my foot, then extend my leg again. Sweat forms on the back of my neck, and I clear my throat so hard it burns.

“Well?” He frowns, back to being Auston. “Was that better? I feel like it was an improvement.”

“Um, yeah. It was.” And that’s all I have right now. It’s not every day you see one of your favorite book boyfriends embodied right in front of you.

“Should I try again, or . . .?”

I swallow to wet my scratchy throat. “Sure. We can switch scenes, though. I think this one works.”

“Okay,” he says, flipping through the script’s pages.

As he does, someone knocks on the trailer door, and I would bet all my books it’s Madison again. She really likes spending time with her boyfriend. Well, I guess I can’t really blame her.

“Sorry.” He winces, hustling over to the trailer door and talking to her outside.

“Are you being called on set?” I ask when he comes back.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Not yet. We have about an hour.”

“I didn’t know shooting a movie meant spending so much time in a trailer, not acting.”

“Right,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “Not exactly the exciting movie star life everyone envisions. There’s a lot of waiting around. But I love this job, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Don’t I know it.

I avert my gaze, trying to think of something else. “So, what do you usually do when you’re in here?”

He shrugs. “I watch movies, browse the web, work with my mom on other stuff.”

“No reading, then?” I ask, unable to hide the hint of disappointment in my voice.

“I read scripts,” he says, wincing.

I shake my head. “Not exactly the same.”

He runs a hand over his hair, sighing. “I’ve never been much of a reader, or student for that matter.”

I pause, looking him in the eye. And for an instant, it feels like he remembers. But then, why would he word it like that?

“Well, you should give it a try . There’s no better form of entertainment.”

“Um, excuse me,” he says, looking around in an obvious way.

I wrinkle my forehead. “What?”

He splays his arms and says, “We’re on the set of a movie.”

I shrug. “Movies aren’t really my thing.”

“Now you just broke my heart,” he says, shaking his head with exaggerated fervor.

Well, now you know how it feels, pal.

He smiles. “Seriously, though. You should give movies a chance. They might surprise you.”

“And you should give books a shot.” I wink. “You’ll enjoy yourself and live longer.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yep. Scientists found that reading for at least half an hour a day increases your lifespan by about two years.”

“Wow. They need to print that on the napkins at the next Oscars,” he says with a chuckle. “Though we might end up with a plastic surgeon riot on our hands afterwards.”

I have to hold back my smile. Auston always knew how to make me smile. I loved that about him. He might have been the popular kid, but he was also the funny one.

His gaze stays planted on mine, a nd I look away. “Should we go again?”

“Sure.” He clears his throat before getting back into character.

We try the same line a few more times, and he’s now way better at the Diego Loma voice. Part of me wishes he wasn’t. What happens when we have nothing more to work on?

What am I thinking? I’ll be free! That’s what happens. I’ll peacefully return to my life and put the painful memory of Auston back into the box it was locked in.

Auston

She almost smiled. At my lame Oscar joke, of all things. She was so close. I used to love the game of trying to win people over. At auditions, dinners, charity events. But these days, I don’t need to. They’re already interested. Already charmed. But pulling a smile out of Emma? Now that’s a real challenge. Especially since it used to be so easy. In high school, she was nothing but smiles, but everything is different now. I guess it was to be expected, losing her parents at such a young age. Not that I can fully grasp what it feels like. I know she had a grea t relationship with her grandmother, but it’s not the same.

She comes back into the trailer with another steaming cup of coffee, and I shake my head. “You’re addicted to caffeine. You know that?”

She takes a sip, and her body relaxes. “I do. But coffee is just so delicious. So comforting. And it’s good for your health.”

I can’t help but grin. “I’m pretty sure that’s only if you drink a reasonable amount per day.”

Her eyebrows draw together. “I do drink a reasonable amount.”

With a playful glare, I say, “This is the third break we’ve taken since lunch.”

“And? Three coffees is nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure you drank at least two while we were shooting, and that’s not even counting the ones you drank this morning.”

She places a hand on her hip. “Am I under surveillance or something?”

I choke out a soft laugh, but she’s not that far off. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her. No matter how hard I try.

“All right, let’s see your notes for tomorrow’s scene.”

She shows me her numerous critiques, but I must say, they’re starting to make sense now. Beyond just allowing me to spend time with Emma, this arr angement has been genuinely helpful. It was a good idea to hire her. Having a hardcore fan of the book on the production team should be a requirement for all movie adaptations.

We’ve been at it for about an hour when someone knocks on the door again, and I already know who it is.

“Auston,” Madison calls in a melodic voice from outside. “Can I have a word?”

I blow out a frustrated breath.

Emma stands up, gathering her copy of the script. “I’ll go. We're almost done anyway. We can pick it back up tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you from your girlfriend much longer. I’m starting to think her addiction is worse than mine for coffee,” she says, not hiding the sarcasm in her tone.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I blurt. Then, I yell to Madison, “I’ll be right out.”

Emma scoffs, glancing at the door. “Um, is she aware of that? Because—”

“Look, we pretended to date for publicity in the past, and she never really stopped. She’s always dropping hints on social media or in interviews.” Closing my eyes, I massage my temple. “She says she’s doing it for the movie, but she’s just fame-hungry. And now, I’m stuck on this movie with her.”

Her face pulls into a frown. “W hy doesn't your manager do anything about it?”

I rub the back of my neck. “My mom agrees with Madison. The publicity stunts we pulled in the past worked out great, so she just sees it as another opportunity.”

“I’m sorry. I thought Madison was already famous enough on her own.”

I release a sigh. “She’s not landing as many big roles as she’d hoped. At least, that’s my understanding.”

Madison knocks again, more urgently this time.

“Well, I’m still going to head out,” Emma says, adjusting her bangs. “See you tomorrow.”

I walk her to the door, and when I open it, Madison is waiting on the steps, hands on her hips. As usual, cameras flash as soon as we have one foot on the pavement, and a throng of paparazzi and fans call our names.

“Oh, you had company again?” The look she throws Emma could have sunk the Titanic.

“I told you, Emma was hired by production to help me with my character,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m justifying myself. Because I’m not. I’m just trying to avoid another deadly wreck.

“Right,” Madison says, her eyes flitting between us. “Well, your mom and I wanted to talk business. She’ll be right over.”

Emma doesn’t seem fazed by the way Madison glares at her. Instead, she’s holding her chin high, almost defying her. Emma and Madison couldn’t be more different. Emma’s tall and lean, a blatant contrast to Madison, who’s shorter in stature and wears the same curves everyone in Hollywood seems to have these days. Madison boasts long blonde hair while Emma has a short, dark haircut that gives her a stricter, more mature look. But when you look into her eyes—really look—that’s when you see a glint of softness. She tries to hide it, wearing that mask of confidence, but I saw a glimpse of it.

Emma angles herself to face me. “I’m leaving anyway. Later, Auston.”

That new attitude is one of the most obvious things that’s changed about Emma. Where the old Emma was sweet and discreet, the new Emma is brazen and doesn’t let people scare her.

Good. Looks like Madison has met her match. I’m Team Emma all the way.

My phone buzzes on my nightstand, waking me up with a jolt.

I bring the screen to my eyes to see who’s calling, and my adrenaline spikes. I pick up at once. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“We have a problem. Some pictures were taken yesterday, and they’re not good. Madison and I are on our way to talk strategy.” Her tone is all business. Far from her usual exuberance.

My jaw drops. “Now? It’s five a.m.”

“Then you’d better get dressed.”

Hanging up, I lie back with a sigh. I knew it was only a matter of time. Between us hanging out on set and all of Madison’s hints on social media, I was never getting out of this.

I drag myself to the shower and stand under the hot water until some of the fog dissipates from my brain. I barely have time to get dressed before my doorbell rings.

I open the door of my rental apartment without looking at my unwelcome visitors, then go straight to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. My mom and Madison are chattering in the background, but I’m not listening. Because the smell of coffee puts Emma front and center in my mind again. Just like she was in the dream I was having, the one my mother interrupted with her call.

“It’s a disaster!” Madison shrieks, catching my attention.

Wait. What? Spinning around, I fi nd my mom pacing the length of the living room while Madison slumps on the couch, head in her hands. I glance between them. “What’s going on?”

“You didn’t listen to a word we just said, did you?” Mom asks with a pointed look. Even this early in the morning, she has full makeup on, her hair is done, and she’s ready to tackle anything coming at her.

“Sorry.” I massage my temples. “I needed coffee first. What happened?”

“This,” Mom says, handing me her iPad. It’s a bunch of gossip magazine articles and social media posts, all showcasing pictures of me and Emma talking near the trailer yesterday alongside yearbook pictures from high school. My heart quickens. How did they make the connection so quickly? I move on to the captions, and they all more or less say the same thing. That I’ve reconnected with my high school sweetheart.

All the blood seems to drain from my body. Are these people scanning my yearbook pictures every time I appear in public with a new woman? Probably. Paparazzi dig their claws in as soon as there’s even a whiff of a story.

“Crap,” I breathe out. Now, Emma is going to know it’s me. Will that change things between us? Is there a possibility she doesn’t read these crappy webs ites? I’m pretty sure tabloids aren’t her thing.

“Yes, crap is right!” Madison growls, throwing her arms in the air. “We have to fix this. People can’t think you’re dating this—this girl! It’s going to ruin the movie.”

Mom nods firmly. “This is quite a pickle. For starters, we’ll do an emergency press release. Say that she’s just an old friend. Then, you and Madison will go together to the launch of the new Lucacci perfume tonight.”

“Yes, good idea,” Madison says, releasing a breath. “Show them everything is fine. I’ll also post a picture online, and—”

“No,” I yell, dropping the iPad on the table. I can’t take this any longer.

“Why not?” Mom asks with a puzzled frown. “It’s a good plan, honey.”

“It’s not,” I say, looking away, trying to find an escape. “Because—because I am dating her.”

My cheeks must be burning red right now, but I don’t care. I’m tired of being jerked around like a puppet. And I will not pretend to be in love with Madison again. I need to seize control over my life—now.

Madison lets out a loud snort. “Oh, that’s rich.”

I cross my arms. “It’s true.”

“What are you talking about, Au ston?” Mom wrinkles her forehead. She must realize I’m serious, because she never calls me by my first name.

“Emma and I are together. We’ve been dating since I came to New York to find a place to live and attend the Ivory event.”

Madison leans forward, elbows on her knees. “Is that so? Why is it the first I’m hearing about it? Or your mom, for that matter?” She’s defying me with her gaze, but I can tell there’s a hint of fear hiding in her blue eyes.

“She wants to remain anonymous. Not everyone craves the spotlight,” I say, matching her icy stare.

“Ah! You should have said something to me, honey,” Mom says, blowing out a breath of air as she grabs the tablet, her enthusiasm now turned up full throttle. “And this girl is the bookstore owner, right? The one consulting for the movie?”

I nod.

“Yes, yes. That could work.” She nods, her eyes gleaming as she types on the tablet. “I’ll make a statement confirming the rumors. It’ll still bring some fabulous publicity for the movie, just not in the way we expected.”

“No! You can’t,” I shoot back, louder than intended. “Like I said, she wants to remain anonymous.”

“But the cat is out of the bag now, honey,” she says, putting her glasses on and studying me.

I sigh. “It’s just gossip.”

She peers at me for a second, then nods. “Fine. I won’t say anything, but you should talk to her. You know things can never stay hidden for long. Especially with her hanging around the set.”

“The chatter will die down if we don’t say anything. I’m telling you, Emma really doesn’t want to be in the public eye. I promised her I’d keep her away from all that.”

“Fine,” Mom says, turning to Madison.

“Yeah, okay,” Madison agrees with a small smile, her perfect calm surprising me.

I let out a breath of relief and lean against the table. Disaster averted. Now, I just have to hope Emma doesn’t read those magazines and will never hear a word of this.