Eversea A Love Story

possible, I felt sicker. “You’re right, I don’t. I mean I do understand the concept, I just don’t understand anyone agreeing to something like that.” This was good. He was an empty vessel—a shallow, self-absorbed actor who would prostitute his love life for the sake of being famous. I could definitely get over someone like this. Wow, his relationship with Audrey Lane was based on a contract? Millions of fans had been duped.
    “You look pretty disgusted right now.”
    “I am a bit.” Not enough . Ugh .
    “You don’t pull any punches, huh?” His fingers slid into his pockets.
    “Not really.”
    He crossed his ankles, like he was settling in for a while. “Any more reasons?”
    “Do we need them now? I mean it’s purely theoretical at this point. It’s never going to happen.”
    He sighed, let his head fall back again, and closed his eyes.
    “So ... what did you mean it was smart?” I asked, since we were being so honest and all.
    “That was it. I’m in a contract. At least until after the movie finishes it’s run in theaters. Globally. Or Peak Entertainment stops caring so much about it. Us. Me.”
    We both stood in silence a few minutes, each with our backs against opposite walls. I catalogued his face. His hair was a little shaggy like he was overdue for a cut, his long black eyelashes rested on his cheeks as he closed his eyes again. His beautiful mouth, the one I had missed my chance at tasting, pursed slightly as he worried his lips between his teeth.
    “Did I mess this up?” he asked eventually, looking back at me.
    “Which part?”
    He nodded. “Good point. I meant the part where we happily coexist in a mutually beneficial grocery-buying for handy-man services relationship, as bizarre as that is.”
    “It is bizarre, isn’t it?” I grinned. And for some reason I just started giggling and then couldn’t stop. I laughed so hard my eyes welled up and my sides hurt. Call it a release of tension or a complete free-fall into dorkdom. I probably snorted at some point. I’m sure it was a highlight. Either way, it ended up with Jack chuckling along at my laughter and shaking his head in bewilderment.
    “Geez, Keri Ann. I don’t think I have ever met anyone with a range of emotions like yours. And I’m an actor, so that’s saying something.”
    Feeling suddenly awkward, my laugh trailed off. I knew what I looked like in the midst of a giggle-fest—there was a picture Nana had taken of Jazz and me, the summer right before my parents died. I don’t even remember what we were laughing at, but I remember my nostrils flared and my cheeks were splotchy. I always thought I looked like a horse in that picture. Wiping at my eyes self-consciously, I attempted to pull myself together.
    “It’s amazing,” said Jack, shaking his head and looking at me.
    “What’s amazing?”
    “It’s amazing,” he repeated, “that you seem to have no idea how fucking beautiful you are.”
    Instantly sober from my laughing episode, I stood dead still staring at Jack.
    He just looked right back at me, arms folded, as if challenging me to contradict him.
    I was speechless, otherwise I would have. Man, this guy was good.
    “It’s late. I should get going,” he finally said.
    I nodded dumbly.
    “You working tomorrow?”
    I shook my head.
    He pushed forward off his side of the hallway and stepped toward me. If it was possible, he suddenly looked predatory.
    Pressing my back further against the cool wall at his approach, I held my breath as he planted his palms flat against the wall behind me, his body hovering a scant inch from mine and his head ducking straight down to my neck.
    “I’m glad we have our reasons laid out, Keri Ann,” he said quietly, breathing his words into my ear in a torrent of snapping electricity. “But that doesn’t mean it’s never going to happen.”
    My stomach flipped over, and my breath whooshed out into a deep and embarrassing pant. Placing my hands against his hard chest, I pushed him away to arms length. “Wow, did anyone ever tell you how arrogant you are?”
    “Not arrogant. Confident. There’s a difference.”
    “Well, you can stop being confident about kissing me.” I hardened my eyes. I felt like some kind of plaything, a yo-yo he kept rolling out and back. Every time I thought I caught a glimpse of who the real Jack might be, he presented this side of himself to make me think I had imagined it.
    “This isn’t a movie! You just told me you were getting