Page 33 of Lights, Camera, Love

I just can’t turn my back on Austin like I did with Jace. Not when he’s finally on the cusp of getting his life back on track. Once I know that his movie is going to be a hit and that he’ll be okay without me,thenI’ll make my move.

‘I’m just not there yet,’ I say to Mike, and his shoulders droop a little. ‘But I really want to be.’

I pull up at the address from Evie’s text, my brows coming together. After double-checking the details on my phone, I glance through the car window at the graffitied, decaying apartment block. It looks like low-income housing at best—not at all like the place I imagined Gabriel Dean’s daughter to live in.

He really hasn’t given her a cent, I confirm with a flinch of irritation.

Although, it’s possible that the wealthiest actor in the worldhasoffered money to Evie, and she’s told him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. Or maybe she’s frugal and has a trust fund she’s saving for a luxurious retirement—who the fuck knows. I’ve spent far too much time in the past few weeks pondering the finer details of Evie Scott’s life, like they’re any of my business.

‘Nadia’s gonna go batshit when this story comes out,’ Austin warns from the seat beside me. ‘She watches everything I do with a fine-tooth comb.’

I shake my head at that tangled metaphor, deciding not to bother correcting him. ‘You let me worry about Nadia.’

He rocks back and forth in the seat, then hikes up his legs and parks his dirty sneakers on my dashboard.

I set my gaze on him, unblinking. He rolls his eyes and lowers his feet.

‘Here she comes,’ he says, sitting up and nodding at the window. ‘Mrs Reynolds,’ he adds with a wolf-whistle. I turn away from him.

Evie half-jogs down her building’s crumbling driveway, doling out a beaming smile as she hurries to the car in a pair of lavender pants and a crisp white shirt. She radiates warmth and light—a firefly emerging from the darkness of its pupa. I swallow against my taut throat as she climbs into the back seat. I asked Austin to give her the front, of course, but it was no good: ‘I’ve got longer legs, man,’ he protested. ‘It’s like you don’t give a shit.’

‘Thanks for picking me up,’ Evie says, a little breathless, as she tucks a loose wave of chestnut hair behind one ear. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror.

‘My pleasure,’ I reply in a murmur, and her gaze flashes down.

The memory of what she said to me outside the dance school slams back into my head. I’ve barely stopped thinking about it.

You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. It’s actually ridiculous how stunning it is.

I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop my face from flushing.

Evie shifts forward on the leather seat to curl her fingers around Austin’s shoulder. He covers her hand with his as they smile a ‘hello’ to each other.

I throw the car into gear and pull out onto the road.Jesus, Kye, she touched his shoulder, not crushed her mouth to his like she needs his breath to live. Get a grip.

I go over the fake-dating plan again while we make the short drive across town to a gourmet supermarket that’s a regular haunt of local celebrities.

‘The photographers have already been tipped off, so they should be there when we arrive,’ I say. ‘Because the shop is always busy inside and it’ll be hard to get clear shots, all the action should happen in the carpark.’

‘Act-shawwwn,’ Austin sings, before breaking into the disco song ‘I Love the Nightlife’, his shoulders doing a little shimmy. ‘What exactly do you mean by “action”, though, bro?’ he grins.

‘Just stroll into the supermarket looking like a couple,’ I explain. ‘You don’t need to be making out like rabid teenagers, but put an arm around Evie, hold her hand, maybe give her a kiss on the temple.’ A mental image of me burying my own mouth in Evie’s hair makes a splash of warmth wash over my skin.

‘Aw, no making out?’ Austin whines. He twists around to wink at Evie, who bites into one of those nails she loves to chomp on.

You’re a bitey little thing. I wonder what those teeth would feel like digging into my bottom lip.

Once I’ve relocated my brain and we’ve reached the absurdly overpriced grocery store, I do a few laps of the outdoor carpark until I find a spot that’s reasonably close to the entrance. There, I spy a couple of bored-looking photographers lounging on the low-brick wall beside the doors, long-lens cameras dangling from their necks. I expected more than two snappers to turn up, but I guess Austin hasn’t had his name plastered to the front page of anything for several years now. Time to change that.

Austin sluggishly gets out of the car, and I jump out to pull open Evie’s door. Her thumbnail remains caught between her teeth as she watches the photographers from the back seat.

‘We don’t have to do this,’ I remind her.

‘I’m good,’ she says with a nervous smile, reaching out a hand. Even though I shouldn’t—it will makeuslook like the couple—I gently clasp her fingers andhelp her out of the car. As if it has a mind of its own, my thumb traces a line over the back of her hand, and her soft fingers curl into my skin before I have time to regret it.

Austin snatches hold of Evie’s wrist, and our hands detach. He tugs her to his side.

I turn away, rubbing the spot of pressure in my chest.This is the best thing for everyone, I remind myself,including me.

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