Page 30 of Anyone But the Superstar

‘If anyone should sue someone, it should beme—’ she points back to herself before jabbing it once more at me ‘—suingyou.’

This time, she makes contact, but I’m too afraid to move my hands from ball-protection duty. The sharp pain helps me cull the unhelpful buzz of attraction radiating from her touch.

Jesus,sou patético.

Rolling her eyes at what I can only guess is my rather comical expression, she crosses her arms. ‘I only took that picture as evidence, in case I died, and the police needed a clue as to who killed me.’

Huh. I repeat what she just said in my head, letting it sink in.

As overly dramatic as her reasoning sounds, it also sounds valid. Which I hate. Because it makes my pent-up anger and judgement seem petty and unwarranted in the face of, well, her numbed face. ‘Ah.’

‘Yeah,’ she scoffs, ‘ah.’

‘But…’ I replay the last time I saw her. ‘Why were you at NASA? Why did you run?’

‘I was at work.’ She shifts back on one foot. ‘Same as you.’

‘Jack checked the crew contracts.’ I find her relaxed posture and flat expression more provoking than convincing. ‘You weren’t listed.’

Anne’s stance doesn’t change, nor her expression. ‘I’m not crew.’

My head hurts. And my chest. Noting the face smears on the window, my pride is also pretty banged up.

Closing my eyes, I try and reset like I do when someone accidentally breaks character or the director wants to re-shoot a scene. Or when a girl has thrown me for so many loops at a time when I’m already playing tabloid gymnastics that I find myself too exhausted to jump anymore.

Unfortunately, when I reopen them, I’m still the same confused man I was seconds ago standing in front of a pissed-off woman with a penchant for nut maiming.

Risking said nuts, I raise my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘Will you please explain?’

Her eyebrows shoot up, her shock at my sudden shift topoliteness making me feel every inch the asshole Anne must think me.

‘Fine.’ Heaving a long sigh, she moves over toward the window and picks up Mike Hunt, who’s returned with the key. ‘I’m a storyboarder.’

I take a moment to appreciate the sunlight behind her casting a halo around her blonde hair, the vision marred by the odd-looking feline cradled against her chest, before refocusing. ‘But you said you weren’t?—’

She holds up a hand, Mike listing to one side. ‘Part of the crew. I know.’ Her hand slides back under the cat, securing him to her. ‘I’m not. I’m an intern. I work for my professor, David Morales,notthe studio.’

I’m distracted by the folds of skin overlapping and moving against each other as the cat leans into her caress, its body relaxing. I’d be jealous if I wasn’t too busy being creeped by his eyes, which remain fixed on me.

Unconcerned or unaware of my unease, Anne continues explaining. ‘And I ran at the press junket because the guy I kneed in the nuts turned out to be a movie star who may or may not take out his anger on me by getting me fired.’

‘I wouldn’t?—’

‘What? Have me fired?’ She snorts and lowers the cat back onto the carpeted patch of sunlight. ‘And I’m supposed to know that after I was, one, catfished, two, poisoned and three—’ she lifts a finger at each listing of my crimes ‘—barricaded in a hotel room when I attempted to leave to seek medical attention?’

I want to argue the poisoned comment, but wisely keep my mouth shut.

She flutters her lashes, her smile patronizing. ‘It’s a mystery how you’ve only won two People’s Choice Awards.’

I could drown in the sarcasm dripping from her voice. And Ihave a feeling she wouldn’t lend me a hand, or finger, to help if I did.

‘You’re right.’ I hold my hands out between us like I’ve seen trainers do on set with wild animals. It’s both for Anne and the cat. ‘I’m sorry.’

Anne’s detached, condescending expression flickers at my sincerity.

‘Honest, I am.’ All the tension I’d been feeling seems to leave me in one fell swoosh as I say the words I should’ve said from the start. And even though the cat is shifting uncomfortably closer, I make sure to maintain eye contact as I continue. ‘It is not an excuse, but please know that being—’ I flash her a small smile ‘—Felix Jones, can sometimes be difficult.’

Her lips twitch in an upward direction, helping me go on.

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