Page 31 of Lost Love Found

Adam and I respond simultaneously, only I'm grinning while he's frowning. Maeve quickly snatches me by the arm and pulls me aside, waving her hand over her head as she does. “See you soon, boys! Play nice!”

In Maeve’s trailer, she insists I change at least my top. She has a few things there and I settle for an emerald green cashmere sweater that falls off of one shoulder. I keep my jeans on and thankfully already had cute heeled boots on. I freshen up my hair, opting for loose curls and Maeve makes sure to slap some more makeup on my face.

After a short drive, we pull up outside the restaurant. We're welcomed inside and led through to a private room, Raf lingering close enough to jump into action, but far enough away that it doesn’t feel like he’s hovering over us. About a dozen people from the cast and crew gather around a large table, talking excitedly. Candles flicker on the tables, throwing soft light across the room.

My stomach contracts as I make my way to the bar, eager to dull the images of Adam and female models that have been seared into my consciousness. I order a glass of pinot noir, the liquid providing a momentary comfort. I drink it far too quickly and as I set the glass down, I notice a familiar figure entering the room. Sea-blue eyes dart around the place, and Adam’s gaze eventually lands on me. Before I can turn away, I feel a hand on my shoulder and hear Mitch’s voice utter a cheery greeting. It seems like nothing is going my way today.

“There you are. I got you a drink.” Adorable Mitch offers me a fluorescent pink concoction that glows like a neon sign as he plants a soft kiss on my cheek, leaving it wet and sticky. I feel nothing, not a spark of electricity or a knot in my stomach. I smile politely and thank him, wanting to wipe the dampness away with the back of my hand.

We talk about the usual topics—work and life—while I fidget with my left earlobe and search the room for any friends who can save me from this dull small talk. Raf must be here somewhere. Just as I'm about to make a run for it, a strong hand curls itself around my waist, making every cell in my body come alive as goosebumps spread like a wildfire. This is not an innocent gesture, but one with a possessive weight that seems to promise something more. I'm paralyzed by a thrill that is both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Adam’s voice is husky in my ear. He echoes Mitch’s earlier words and this time, I definitely feel things. He takes the pink drink from my hand and sets it on a nearby table, replacing it with a glass of red wine. One hand gently settles back on the curve of my waist, his thumb drawing a languid circle that sends a chill up my spine.

His rough fingers brush my hair to the side, and I shiver as his scorching lips graze my bare shoulder. His kiss trails up my neck, lingering just behind my ear. “I’ve been looking for you,” he murmurs. My heart races as my body leans into his of its own volition. Fucking fuckity fuck! Focus, Elaina!

“You don’t mind if I steal my girl away, do ya, Mitch? Good to see you out, dude.” My girl. Oh god. I’m going to have to revisit that later. He grabs my hand, his grip tight and urgent, and pulls me away from the clueless director. What’s his name again? Everything is a blur until we stop moving and Adam’s hands are both gripping my waist. I guzzle the rest of my wine, feeling the warmth of it travel down my stomach. When I look up, Adam's eyes are two stormy seas of blue, full of anger and heat. What the hell?

“What are you doing, Adam?” I hiss as I set my empty glass on a table next to us.

“Pretending to be your boyfriend, or whatever it is Raf does when you’re not interested in a guy. You pulled on your left ear. I saw it.” He hasn’t taken his hands off of me yet. “Mitch is a total creep. He hits on every woman on set.” Oh. Well, that… sucks.

“So? Maybe I don’t care about that.” I cross my arms over my chest, doing a great job of looking like I’m about to throw a toddler-sized tantrum. “I’m sure every woman on set is busy hitting on you to even notice adorable Mitch, anyway. You walk around with your sparkling blue eyes and perfect ass and no one else stands a chance, so what does it matter?” My propensity for word vomit seems to grow exponentially with every glass of wine I foolishly drink in lieu of lunch or dinner.

“Yes, you do care. And adorable Mitch? Perfect ass? We obviously need to talk more.” He has the audacity to smirk at me, and I am not having it.

“I care, but only a little. Mitch is like a lost puppy dog with his curly hair and big brown eyes.” I roll my eyes, intent on continuing my tangent. “Have you honestly never turned while looking in the mirror? You have a perfect ass. The most perfect. Like tight and round. It’s fucking unnatural.” Must. Stop. Talking. “And we need to talk more? Maybe when you’re done ignoring me we can talk, you dumbass!” I scoff and shove his shoulder but he doesn’t budge.

“God, I miss you and that mouth.” His eyes move over my face again and his stupid eyes sparkle. Ugh.

“I gotta go. Nice to see you, River.” And with that, I push him away from me and walk back to the bar, immediately requesting a shot of vodka and another glass of wine. If you ever wanted to know what regret tastes like, this is the recipe.

13

how did i get here?

adam

Elaina is drunk. She must be. She has had far too many drinks, though no one seems concerned. Not Maeve and not the bartender. Just me. I’ve never seen her like this. Then again, I feel like I haven’t really seen her at all lately. After she got back from Paris and I barged into her apartment and she was wearing white lace underwear, I needed space. The thought of her exquisite tits under the thin white tank top, of the heat that was radiating off of her skin… every night since then I’ve been dreaming about her. Elaina under me, on top of me, in the shower… I think I’ve made my point.

My stomach tightens thinking about running into Lainey on set today. I hadn't expected her to be there, and I still don't know how much of the scene she saw. I'd been dreading shooting this alternate scene, where I had to make out with three different women. It was Mitch's stupid idea, and it made me hate him even more.

When I saw Lainey with Mitch, I felt a surge of anger. She looked so gorgeous in that tight sweater, and the thought of him touching her made my blood boil. So, I did what she said Raf did when creepy guys came around - I pulled her in close and pretended she was mine. Hearing her talking about my eyes and my ass only intensified my feelings. But where did that come from, anyway? I’ll need to ask her about that when she’s not busy guzzling wine.

Wait… did she just stumble? Oh, hell no. She’s out of here.

Like the absolute caveman I have apparently become, I walk to her and place a firm hand around her waist. “I think it’s time to say goodnight. Have a great weekend, everyone.” Maeve gives me a small nod and Lainey doesn’t fight me, but I see the fire in her eyes.

“What do you think you are you doing?” Her voice is low. She’s drunk, but not enough to make any kind of scene. I should have expected that she's in control even when she's inebriated.

A short walk outside later and we’re both in the back of a town car. I put the privacy window up and buckle her seatbelt while she tries to fight me off.

“Elaina, I’m taking you home,” I say this as calmly as possible, buckle my seatbelt and give her a second to calm down before saying anything else.

“I’m so mad at you! And you never call me Elaina,” she growls at me, crossing her arms and huffing out a loud breath. I would notice how adorable her pout is, how she looks about as angry as a bunny right now, but I’m a little pissed off, so I put those thoughts aside. I narrow my eyes and cross my arms as I glare at her. She sways a little, even as she’s sitting.

“Oh, you’re mad at me, are you? Please, tell me more." I can barely contain my sarcasm as I ask the question; she's just nearly caused a scene and now she has the audacity to be mad at me?

“Yes! I’m so mad. You show up at my apartment when I’m in my underwear and get me all… whatever. I thought you were Maeve, by the way. I never would have come to the door like that if I knew it was you!” She narrows her eyes back at me and then almost instantly looks horrified at what she’s just said. “Because you’re my friend, and I don’t walk around in my underwear in front of my guy friends, for the record.” She’s breathing fast, but if I know anything about this girl, it’s that she’s not done with her rant.

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