Page 47 of Lights, Camera, Love

I hear papers rustling. ‘I’m looking at not one, not two, butthreearticles about Austin kissing her.’ A shaky breath leaves her throat. ‘This is all pretend, right? To sell more tickets to his movie?’

I could almost smile if I wasn’t so pissed off. Nadia may be emotionally fragile at the moment, but she’s always been as sharp as a tack. Still, there’s no way in hell I’d confirm her suspicions and risk having her quote me to some gossipy online rag.

‘It’s not pretend,’ I say, bracing for an audiblesnapof her heart. Instead, a little fracture cracks in my own chest. I’ve been trying so hard to forget the headline-grabbing kiss that Austin and Evie shared on the beach—how real it looked.

‘What do you mean it’s not pretend?’ Nadia asks, her voice rising in pitch. ‘He wants us to get back together; I know it. He’s just too scared to say it.’

‘Nadia,stop. Okay? Austin is not going to get back together with you.Ever.’

A cry bursts from her throat. ‘And whose fault is that, Kye? Whose fucking fault is that?’

I end the call and shove the phone into my pocket. Lesson learned: no more answering messages from Nadia.

When I reach the apartment block, I glimpse Austin climbing out of a white hatchback I’ve never seen before, which I assume is an Uber. He can drive; he just doesn’t like to.

Shit.I can’t deal with him and his neediness right now. I continue past the apartment building towards the jumble of cafes competing for space along the boardwalk.

It takes me an hour and two overpriced cups of coffee to summon the will to go home.

It’s mid-morning on Thursday when I rest my elbows against the polished bar in the inner-city speakeasy-style pub, eyeing off the bottle of Michter’s taunting me from the top shelf.

The bar is shut—it’s not even midday. But my nerves are flipped inside out. Evie and I have had three late-night rehearsals this week for the DanceLab showcase performance, and at each one, it’s taken all the willpower I have not to pull her against my chest, push her hair out of her face, and kiss the fucking life out of her.

Thank god Rafael’s been at each rehearsal, so I haven’t been able to even attempt putting that perilousplan into action. Austin and I haven’t spoken much about Evie these past few days, and I’ve been too scared to ask if he’s been seeing her. The uncertainty is killing me, though; anytime he’s out, I can’t help wondering if they’re together.

My gaze keeps sliding to the door. I’m waiting for Evie to step through it for our next fake-relationship media move: an interview withMonsieurmagazine, accompanied by a sexy photo shoot of she and Austin inside this softly lit bar.

The photography assistant, a gangly guy in Buddy Holly glasses, is having way too much fun playing with the smoke machine, and a hiss of bitter-smelling fog assaults my face. I twist around and narrow my eyes at him.

‘Oops,’ he says with a toothy grin. He uses the latest issue ofMonsieurto fan the smoke towards the two bar stools set up for the shoot.

I frown at my watch. I expected Evie to be running late, given she had a hair and makeup appointment before this, but where the hell is Austin? He had a meeting scheduled this morning with a human rights charity he’s involved in, but he stayed up late watching an arthouse film and swore at me when I tried to haul him out of bed. So I reluctantly agreed to take the meeting without him, and we planned to convene here afterwards.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ utters a voice that could sweeten honey. My breathing falters as Evie dashes through the hovering cloud of smoke. Before I can forma greeting, my eyes fly over her short black dress, which draws focus to her mesmerising curves and dancer’s legs, and then skate up to her smiling face.

Something digs deep into my chest.

‘Where’s Austin?’ she asks, glancing around before clicking her three-inch heels in my direction. A moment later I’m coming off my stool, and she’s wrapping a soft, coconut-scented arm around my shoulder as a hello.

‘He’s not here yet,’ I reply after my throat unclogs. ‘You look…’ My loss of words darkens the blush on Evie’s cheeks.

‘Thank you,’ she says, ducking her head as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

It’s not lost on me how, when she’s in her dance class wearing baggy pants and no makeup, Evie is all confidence. But put her in a tight dress and false lashes, and she becomes much more self-conscious.

TheMonsieurphotographer, Marco, marches back in, after having taken a phone call in the back room, and introduces himself to Evie.

‘Where’s my male lead?’ he then snaps at me, tugging at his cravat as if we’re in the court of Louis XIV at Versailles and he’s the dauphin.Oh, fantastic, another Buzz.

‘He’ll be here any minute,’ I mutter, and pull my phone out of my bomber jacket. I try Austin again, but as usual he doesn’t answer the damn phone, so I type out an irate message telling him to get his ass here, pronto.

Marco’s frowning eyes bounce between me and Evie. ‘I have another shoot right after this, so Jai, could youplease step in with Evie for test shots? You’re not much shorter than Austin.’

‘Actually, I’m two inches taller,’ I amend. ‘And it’sKye.’

If Marco apologises, I don’t hear it over the deafening panic sounding in my head at the realisation that, to help Marco get his lighting right, I’m going to have to adopt the same racy poses with Evie that I asked him to capture between her and Austin.

Marco presses his palms to my shoulders and pushes me down on one of the stools. ‘You sit here. Evie, you come up and sit on his thigh.’

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