Текст книги "Child Star: Part 1"
Автор книги: J. J. McAvoy
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 6 страниц)
Chapter Two
Amelia
It had only been three days since they had announced the cast list, and to say people were taking it a bit too seriously was an understatement.
This is not our Blair Hawthorne! Sign this petition to change Midnight Empire’s mind! Don’t screw up our movie with this random kid actor! Blair is our almighty heroine guys, don’t let her be treated this way! Sign now! WE CAN DO ANYTHING GUYS, ANYTHING!
Under the caption was my name and the worst photo they could possibly find anywhere of me, complete with frizzy hair and glasses. On it was a giant X along with ten thousand signatures. I knew I shouldn’t, and everything within me said not to, but I couldn’t help it: I scrolled down to the comment section.
“She’s so fucking ugly.”
“I don’t mind her, it’s just that Amelia is kind of like your big sister...I can’t picture her in this movie at all.”
“She can’t even act! She was cute when she was young but all of her stuff now is shit.”
“OMG I laughed so hard at her serious face in Deep End.”
“She still makes movies?”
“I seriously hope they reconsider this or else I’m going to be so upset.”
“Leave it to Hollywood to screw up.”
“She probably got this job because of her mother anyway.”
“Does anyone think she’s kind of fat now? She looks like she’s about to give birth in some pictures.”
“Hey at least we got Noah! He’s going to kill it as Damon. I’m hot just thinking about it.”
Slamming down the screen, I pushed the laptop off to the side of my bed and rose to my feet. I wanted to scream. My whole body shook with rage and frustration. Then I froze when I saw the bag of popcorn I was preparing to eat. Clutching it, I stomped out of my bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen of my apartment before I ripped up the bag and threw it away.
“She’s fat.”
“She looks pregnant right?”
“So fat.”
No matter what, I couldn’t get the words out of my head. Moving to my fridge, I tugged it open, preparing to throw away everything “fatty,” but I realized there was nothing there to throw away. Salads, water, soups, and seafood my chef had made for me previously and returned to my mother’s mansion…the popcorn was my only treat.
“What is wrong with you, Amelia?” I whispered to myself, closing the refrigerator door and sliding down to the ground.
I was not fat.
I could act.
And my mother did not get me this role.
I knew that, yet seeing their words still got under my skin. I was still waiting for the moment where I would “toughen up” about this type of criticism. But it never happened. If I ate a salad and someone caught me on camera, the tabloids said I was worried over my weight. If I ate a hamburger, somehow I was letting myself go. It was fucked up. It was beyond fucked up, and yet it was my life.
Just when I thought my night couldn’t get any worse, I heard the doorbell, followed by the very last voice I wanted to hear.
“Amelia!”
Oh no…No. No. No.
Slowly I sat up, crawling on my knees to peek at my now-opening front door from behind the kitchen island.
Who the hell gave her a key?
“Amelia, darling, you can’t be sleeping—”
Sighing, I pushed myself off the ground and stood up straight. “I’m right here, Mom.”
“There is my new super star!” She somehow managed to grin despite the obvious new round of Botox she had gotten while away. She ran to me, wrapping her arms around me and jumping up and down. “I flew in the moment I heard. Why didn’t you call me, sweetheart? This is huge! Not as big as when Spielberg made me his leading lady in The Beast Within, but still!”
“Mom, I can’t breathe.”
“Oh sorry. Say, do you have any wine? We need to celebrate!” She let go of me, walking toward the wine cooler. “So…”
I drowned her out at that point. My mother, Esther London—four-time Oscar winner, two-time Tony Award winner, and three times divorced—was pretty much an old-school Hollywood legend. She was known for being a femme fatale, with her classic blue eyes and black hair, which now had turned pure silvery white thanks to old age and a box of dye39. Between her failed marriages, poor management, and her love for the finer things in life, she went broke around the same time I started acting. Since then, I was her daughter, therapist, and most importantly, her ATM. To pay me back for my hard work, she adopted two younger sisters for me: one from South Korea, Mayko, and another from Nigeria, Antigone. They would both be starting their freshmen year at Stanford soon, but I’m sure she wouldn’t remember to call them until she needed something. I loved them both, but sometimes I wondered why my mother even bothered. We saw each other more now as adults than we did when we were kids because when we were kids, I was always gone, always working.
“Amelia. Amelia?”
“Huh? Sorry,” I said brushing my hair back behind my ears.
She looked me over and placed her hand on my forehead, holding a wine glass in the other hand. “You look pale. Amelia, I swear, you better not get sick. Not now!”
“I’m fine, Mom.” I pulled her hand off of my head. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon. What happened to Clément and running away to Paris?”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, moving to my couch. “Who needs men when my daughter is about to make her breakout role?”
That was code for “he dumped me.”
“Mom, it’s hardly my breakout role—”
“Everyone is talking about it. Where is the script? I can run lines with you, just like old times. Oh! I heard you’re working with that sexy Noah Sloan? Didn’t you guys hate each other as kids? When is your flight? It’s not shooting here in LA is it? Have you made sure to get everything waxed? I know this great Vietnamese woman—she will having you looking ten again—”
“MOM!” I yelled, putting my hands out. I felt like I was about ten right now. “Breathe. I’ve got everything handled. I have an early morning flight to catch, so please giving me some space. If I need anything, I’ll ask. I promise.”
She frowned, no longer drinking. “You want me to leave?”
“Mom, it’s just—”
“No, I get it. You’re not a child. I just wanted to celebrate with you because this is a big moment. Sorry for bothering you.”
She slowly gathered up her purse and shoes, even pretending to sniffle. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“It’s only 9:00. You can stay for a little bit longer,” I said, giving in and taking a seat on my couch. She grinned and pressed herself beside me like we were best friends about to share some secret.
“Are you excited? Oliver must be over the moon,” she questioned before placing the glass back to her lips. Sometimes it was more troublesome to fight her, so I often lied.
“Yeah, I’m excited. So is Ollie.”
“You’re not worried about the sex scenes and whatnot? You’re going to be fully naked, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal. Like you always said: it’s only real if I make it real.”
She tapped my nose. “Aren’t you glad you had me? Most girls would be panicking. But not you. You’re a professional. I made you one. So never forget that. You’re going to shock everyone in the best way.”
I was actually so nervous that I felt like I was going to be sick. But how could I tell her that? And what would be the point? She never listened.
“You really think so, Mom? I doubt this will get me any awards or anything.” I forced myself to smile as I leaned on her.
“So? I had a few by the time I was your age, but times are changing. This is just the door to something greater. When you get a whole league of fans, your name will suddenly be gold again. Never let them stop talking about you, Amelia. The moment they do, your life is over. And that’s a horror you shouldn’t have to face at twenty-two.”
I’m twenty-five.
“I know.” I didn’t want to hear that, but I agreed with her anyway. She glanced up around my apartment.
“Don’t you think this place is kind of small?” she asked, frowning.
“Mom, it’s a three-thousand-square-foot apartment. It’s more than enough.”
“If you say so. But whenever you want to move back into the mansion, let me know.”
Seeing as how I paid for it, I wondered why I had to let her know.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She patted my arm. “My sweet baby. I’ll let you get some rest. Remember, you aren’t just anyone. You are my daughter, the fabulous Amelia London.”
“I could never forget.” Because you tell me every single time you see me, yet I feel anything but fabulous.
I stood up with her, moving to the door. She handed me her glass and kissed my cheeks before leaving. When she was gone, I exhaled deeply, placing her glass in the sink. I was tempted to have a glass myself, but the last thing I needed was to get wasted the night before we went on location.
It all started tomorrow.
Noah
Out of all the women in the world who could have been cast as Blair Hawthorne, it had to be Amelia. Fucking Amelia. Goddammit.
“I can’t do this movie,” I said to Austin as I glanced around the club. I had no idea what I was looking for until I found it.
“You’re kidding, right?” he yelled over the roaring music, reaching for the champagne bottle in the middle of the glass table.
Looking him dead in the eye, I shook my head. “Austin, get me out of this movie.”
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you cannot keep running from her for the rest of your life, Noah. Don’t you think you’ve punished yourself enough? It’s been almost a decade already.”
Snatching the bottle from him, I stood up. “You are not my therapist. Your job is to get me what I want. And I do not want to be in a movie with Amelia London. Especially this movie.”
“Fine, but remember that if you’re out, someone else is in. Someone will be with her—”
Ignoring him, I followed Daniel as he lifted the ribbon blocking the VIP area from the rest of the club. Pushing through the crowd, my head felt like it was going to explode, but I wasn’t sure if was from the DJ or just stress at this point.
I’m a horrible guy on most days, but when it came to Amelia, I was always at my worst. I didn’t even know if I had a good side anymore, but I knew I didn’t want to figure it out while she was near me. Even now, I could still see her face: she was sixteen then, her light brown hair an absolute mess, her blue eyes so red, I thought she had tried to claw them out of her own head.
She’d asked me one question: “Why?”
I couldn’t reply. I still couldn’t reply. I just wanted the image out of my head.
As I made my way into the bathroom, the bottle I had forgotten I was carrying slipped out of my hands as they shook.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Some guy glanced back at me, zipping up his jeans.
“Get out,” I whispered, gripping the marble sink.
“What—”
“GET THE FUCK OUT!” I growled. Luckily, before it got worse, Austin—my personal shadow—slipped the bastard a few bills and shoved him toward the door. He checked under every stall to make sure we were alone.
“You need to be—”
“Pills,” I cut him off.
“Noah.”
“Pills!” I stretched my hand out for them.
Sighing, he reached into his jacket and tried to pour them into my hand for me, but I snatched them and poured more than I should have into the palm of my hand before tossing them in my mouth. Without water, I swallowed.
“I’m not doing the movie,” I said again.
“Let’s get you home.”
“I can’t, Austin.” He ignored me, placing one of my arms over his shoulders to help me walk. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until I tried to step forward. Everything was out of focus, but I preferred that. I didn’t want to see anyone’s face anyway.
Chapter Three
Amelia
Shooting was to take place in Chicago, so our flight was for 4:00 a.m. Yet it was now 7:00 a.m., and we were still on the tarmac waiting for none other than Noah Sloan.
“He’s unbelievable.”
“Think on the positive side, at least you get to finish the book,” Ollie whispered. He was sitting opposite me and slid over the novel.
I leaned back against the seat, flipping the book open to the fifth chapter just as the pompous ass came in with sunglasses, dressed in dark blue jeans, a casual shirt, and a leather jacket.
“So sorry we’re late,” his manager said, beside him. Noah didn’t say a word. He sat down in the seat opposite mine and next to Ollie’s, and immediately leaned back. He did not care about the producer that sat in the seat behind him.
“No good—” I started.
“Amelia,” Ollie leaned in, whispering. “What is it about him that boils your blood like this?”
“He’s just a horrible human being. That should make anyone upset,” I said, softly gripping my book. I’d never gone to school, but I’d acted in enough TV shows and movies to know there is always that one bully. Noah was mine.
“Sorry we all can’t all be princesses,” Noah yawned, turning his head toward me. “You are horrible at whispering.”
Do not engage. Nothing you say, Amelia, will change him.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll work on it.” I forced a smile before opening the book again.
He gave a snide laugh. I tried to focus.
“Did you get to the part where Blair sucks Damon off in the car yet?” he asked, just as the plane started to move. I dropped the book, much to his amusement. “I guess not.”
“I’m still in the beginning,” I replied, reaching back down to get it.
“I have to give you credit, London. Who knew you’d be bold enough to read erotica in front of people? Then again– never mind.”
My teeth gritted together. How had he not changed in all these years? He was even worse now. I gripped the armrest when we took off and didn’t relax until we were completely in the air. When the seat belt sign went off, Noah rose from his seat, taking off his glasses and standing over me.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Let’s read lines,” he said and glanced over to Ollie, giving him some sort of signal to leave. Ollie complied, moving to the other side of the private jet. Noah sat down right in front of me, rubbing his eyes tiredly rather than focusing on me.
“You look like you were up all night,” I said.
“I was.” He winked.
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a script. “Who was it now, a Victoria’s Secret model? No—two Victoria’s Secret models?”
“Jealous?” he asked.
“As if.” I scoffed. “I feel sorry for them. You use them for sex and toss them away like used tissues.”
“They know what they’re getting into. I’m just as much a notch in their belts as they are in mine. Not everyone is as prudish as you.” His eyes never left mine. It felt like he was looking right through me.
“I’m not a prude.”
“Yeah, okay—”
“Didn’t you want to read lines? Where is your script?”
“Just start from where you would like.”
“Fine,” I muttered, opening to the middle. “‘Do you ever think of quitting?’”
“‘What would I do?’” Noah replied, staring at me.
I shifted in my seat but kept reading. “‘Anything we want to do? We could go to Paris, Rome, Istanbul. Anywhere, just you and me—”
“‘You still haven’t answered my question, Blair. What would we do, not where would we live. We’re thieves—always have been and always will be. Or is that not who you are anymore?’” I glanced up at him as he recited it perfectly, his voice annoyed and steady.
“‘Damon—‘”
“‘Answer me. Are you done? If you want to go, babe, then go. But I can’t go with you. This is who I am until the day I die. I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t want to do anything else. My two greatest joys in life are taking what I want and taking you. I’d rather resent myself for not being able to walk away than resent you for making me give this up.’”
After that scene, Blair strips down and kisses down his chest.
So I flipped to another section and read “‘What do you mean what did I do?’”
“‘I told you to knock him out, not kill him.’”
I paused, putting the script down to look at Noah, who was still staring at me. “You memorized the whole script?”
He finally looked at me, confused. “Haven’t you?”
No, I hadn’t. Most of my lines, but not to the point where he was.
“You’ve gotten lazy.” He closed the book and slid it back to me. “The old Amelia used to know every line of all her scripts to the point where she would correct the other actors.”
“Yeah, and you’d call me annoying or make fun of me,” I muttered, looking out the window. The clouds drifted right by us.
“I was a kid.”
“And what’s your excuse now that you’re an adult?”
He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped, sighing before asking, “When are you going to stop holding the past against me?”
When it no longer hurts to think about.
“Why should I? After all these years, it’s not like you’re a different person. Like always, everything must work on your time. You were horrible then, and you’re still horrible now,” I snapped, which stirred a few people around me. Smiling apologetically to them, I focused my attention back on Noah.
“You have no idea what it was like dating you,” he said, shaking his head. “The amount of pressure you added to my life then. Jesus. I felt like I couldn’t walk out of the bathroom without some bastard telling me, ‘Don’t break Amelia’s heart. Don’t do anything stupid. How’d you manage to date Amelia?’ My favorite were the times when people thought we shouldn’t be together because they saw us play siblings. Dating you was a nightmare.”
“What?” My mouth dropped open. He could have shot me in the face, and it still would have felt better than hearing that.
He frowned and shrugged like it was nothing to him. “Do you remember just how many fan letters you got each day and how many parents would bring their kids to set? You were always surrounded by guys, all of them trying to date you. All of them taking your attention away. All of that on top of the fact that we never saw each other. Our relationship was doomed from the start. The only love that lasts in Hollywood is the one we fake and sell to others.”
“So back then, you figured, ‘Hey why not just end it sooner?’ Is that why you cheated on me?”
“Now that you know, maybe you’ll be able to stop grumbling over me and focus on your work.” He yawned, leaning back and closing his eyes.
“Wow.” I had no words.
“Let’s call a truce already.”
“Fine,” I replied, still trying to wrap my head around his confession. It didn’t make sense, and it only pissed me off more.
I was sixteen! He had no idea how it felt waking up one morning and finding out in the paper that he’d been spotted making out with some model. I felt like the world had crumbled at my feet. I cried for days. Now he was telling me it was my fault and that I should get over it already.
Glancing up at him and noticing how his chest rose and fell over and over again, I couldn’t help but remember the times we did have together. He would surprise me in my trailer with gummy bears—only the red kind—and leave a handwritten note with two words on it: “You’re beautiful.”
Ugh, I don’t want to think about this!
I pulled out our itinerary. The moment we landed, we’d be whisked off to get ready for a promotional event, followed by a dinner for the cast and crew. The next morning, we’d be blocking the sets, followed by actually acting. It was March now, and they wanted to release by Valentine’s Day next year.
Using my tablet, I searched “Damon and Blair.” The very first thing that came up was a page for fans picking their dream cast for the movie. I didn’t understand why everyone loved them so much. Damon and Blair were bad people who only cared about each other, no matter who else got hurt.
“I wished someone loved me as passionately as Damon loves Blair. He’d die for her,” one blogger wrote. Right under that was a link to the petition to replace me. Overnight, it had gained another three thousand supporters. Before I threw my tablet back in my purse, I noticed a link to a piece about Noah.
From Cute to Hot to Sinful, the headline read.
The very first picture under “cute” was the two of us when we were kids. His hair was longer and a little lighter. I remember them wanting a blonde but settling on dying his hair a warm brown instead. He always wore a shark tooth around his neck. There was even a photo of him during his own TV miniseries, The Adventures of Young Clark Kent.
The second picture of him, as “hot,” was when he acted in Hawaii as Child Ninja. He stood on a rock in the middle of the beach, shirtless and with his fist extended, the most serious expression on his face. I almost wanted to laugh. But that was his last big movie as the lead. The others flopped, and then he mostly acted in supporting roles.
Lastly, most recently, his “sinful” look, was from a photo shoot dated only a month ago. He was dressed in a full fitted suit, a smirk across his lips, a women’s leg over his shoulder while another woman sat at his feet. There was another shot where he stood shirtless, fake glasses on, and a cigarette between his lips.
“He’s hot and totally who I see as Damon, but I really hope he doesn’t blow it in this movie. His other movies sucked.”
I glanced up at him, oddly comforted that he was in the same boat as I was. Maybe this could work?
Rolling my eyes, I threw the tablet into my bag and reached for the script. I spent the whole flight reading. In fact, I didn’t even notice when we touched down until Noah got up, not saying a word. He took out his phone and grabbed his bag when the cabin door opened.
“You didn’t kill each other?” Ollie came over to me as I got up.
“At least not yet anyway,” I said, following him out. There were two cars waiting for us. Noah, however, threw his leg over the back of a black motorcycle, revved up the engine and sped off.
“Alright. We’re going to the hotel. It’s not far, and there, you all will do your first photo shoot. Hair and makeup are already in your room,” Ollie said, opening the door for me to slide in. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?”
“Only like seven hundred times,” I said, smiling while winding down the window. I’d never been to Chicago.
“What’s that?” I pointed to the bean-shaped object in the distance.
“It’s called the Cloud Gate. Would you like to stop—” the driver offered.
“We don’t have time, maybe later,” Ollie cut him off before he could finish, and when he said “maybe later,” he really meant “never.”
It was strange how we could shoot in the most beautiful places, but as an actor, I’d never get a chance to truly see them. Between shooting, promotions, and rest, time flew by too quickly, and every minute spent on location was planned out.
“Amelia, what would you like to eat?”
A burger, waffle fries, ice cream, and a slice of chocolate cake. But only in my dreams.
“Soup and a ham sandwich,” I said instead.
“Maybe just the soup until after the shoot. The bread might make you bloated for the photos,” he said, already texting.
“You know best.”
“And never forget it,” he said with a laugh, putting his phone back into his jacket pocket. “I’ve also talked to the director. We’ll be saving all the more intimate scenes of the movie until the end. It will give you time to ease into things and get comfortable. Sadly, they wouldn’t budge during the photo shoot.”
Noah Sloan would be kissing me between my thighs. No amount of time would make that any more comfortable.
“We’re here. A few fans found out about this location, but there is full security,” he said, handing me shades.
“Who should I act like—”
“No one. Just keep walking to the hotel, and don’t make contact. They still have to warm up to the idea of you.”
I placed the sunglasses on my face as the driver came around to my side, holding open the door for me. Ollie had misled me with the word “few.” There were at least a hundred women outside the hotel being held back by security, and just as the doors closed behind me, Noah pulled up on his bike. They almost lost their minds screaming out for him and snapping pictures.
He didn’t say anything. He gave them a small wave and a fake smile and walked in with ease.
“You aren’t Blair!” someone yelled, and all of a sudden, what tasted like sugar flew out at me, coating my hair, sliding down my shirt, and even getting into my shoes.
“Amelia!” Ollie grabbed me from the side, along with a bodyguard, and pushed me forward into the hotel.
“Someone call a doctor! Amelia, are you right?” Ollie asked, coming around to the front of me and brushing away the sugar.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t need a doctor—”
“Don’t be dumb. God only knows what they could have put in that,” Noah said, frowning as he looked me up and down.
“You seem worried.”
“I would prefer you to quit because you know you can’t do it, not because you got sick,” he replied, walking off to the elevators.
So much for our little truce.
When I took off my shoes, white sugar poured out like sand. I could even feel it up against my breasts, tempting me to reach inside my bra and scoop it out.
“When do you think they will warm up to me?” I asked Ollie as we headed toward the elevator.
“When the movie comes out.”
Great! Another year of this.
I said only a short hello to the women who were working in my master suite, everything soft pink, cream, and white—my favorite colors. I started toward the marble bathroom, stripping down and stepping under the water. It was the only place I could be alone. The only place I could breathe or cry or scream.
Sliding down the slick wall, I sat on the floor as the hot water beat against my skin. And like he knew I was getting comfortable, Ollie knocked on the door. “Amelia, the doctor is here. Besides, you can’t stay in there too long or your skin will dry out.”
Sighing, I reached up, turned off the water and grabbed a towel. I couldn’t even get a moment’s peace.
“Amelia? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”
“Cover up. I’ll send her in.”
“I’m covered,” I said, taking another towel for my hair.
When the door opened, an older woman with thick glasses came inside with her bag.
“Hi, Ms. London. I’m Dr. Smithson. I heard someone threw sugar on you? Did you get any in your mouth?”
“Yes.” I leaned against the sink, holding the towel around me tightly.
“Do you feel sick or dizzy?” she asked, checking my eyes with a small light.
“No.”
“Okay, I’m going to take some blood just in case,” she explained, pulling out a needle.
Ollie gave me a thumbs up and went to answer his phone. I noticed six more people come into the room. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. But shouldn’t I be used to that by now?
***
“Okay, open your eyes.”
“Woah,” I said, adjusting to the lash extensions and my whole new look. Everything about me looked sexy, from the red lips to my smoky eyes. They had added just a little more volume and waves to my hair, too.
“What do you think? I added a little pink to the smoky eye because it’s Blair’s signature in the book.”
“You’re a fan too?” I asked, taking a paper towel to wipe some of the lipstick off my teeth.
She smiled. “Isn’t everyone?”
I was starting to realize that.
“So this is your first outfit.” T wardrobe stylist lifted up a short fitted white dress and pink heels.
I stood up only to step into the dress, and the stylist slid it up my body. The second she zipped it up, I was thankful I hadn’t eaten that ham sandwich for lunch. The dress hugged every inch of me. After I stepped into the heels, she held the door open for me.
In the hall, the photographer was already set up. Noah pretended to put his key card in the slot, his face turned back partially for the photo.
“Amelia’s on set,” someone called out as I was led just to Noah’s left. For a split second, his eyes focused on me just as there was another bright flash.
“Step on the black X, Amelia,” the photographer said, changing the lenses. I took a step over the wires, Noah moving aside to allow me to get in front of him in the doorway.
“You can still walk away, you know,” Noah whispered behind me, and I mentally flipped him off.
“Amelia, I want seduction. Noah, unzip the back of her dress.”
Closing my eyes, I tried to think of something, anything that turned me on. However, the moment Noah’s hands grabbed me, I didn’t have to think. It had been so long since any guy touched me like this.
“You still have the northern star on your back,” he whispered, his hand touching the bare skin of my back.
The northern star he was talking about referred to the set of freckles I had on my back. He always said it looked like the northern star.
“Don’t push it,” I whispered, turning to glare at him.
“I like it! Hold that face!” the photographer said, forcing us to stare into each other’s eyes for another second. Noah reached up and placed a hand on my cheek, his thumb grazing over my lips. “Genius.”
Neither of us spoke, and the longer I stayed next to him like this, the faster my heart felt like it was beating.
“Alright, Amelia, in the bedroom. Sit on the edge of the bed. Noah, stay at the door.”
I took my chance to escape with pleasure. Walking into the hotel room, I pretended to take off my earrings and then my heels for the photo.
“Great. I want to get the bed shots in room 4390, and we’ll wrap up for today.” The photographer stood up, already walking down the hall.
“Bed shots?” I asked when my makeup team came back to fix my lipstick. Another stylist was already fully unzipping the dress at my back and draping a robe over my shoulders. I wasn’t expecting it so soon.
They looked at me, confused. “Yeah. The photo shoot takes place in bed. You only need your strapless bra and underwear.”
Biting my lip, I nodded. Standing up, I followed them down the hall toward a set of brown double doors. I saw that there were at least twenty people in the room when they opened the door for me. But the first person I saw was Noah, in dark blue boxer shorts, a woman finishing the fake Roman numeral tattoo she added to his side. Another woman glossed up his abs.
“Amelia, I want you on your back.” The photographer pointed toward the bed, then faced the men working the lights.
Taking off the robe, I crawled into the center of the bed, under the covers. Noah stood at the very end of the bed, in front of me, his abs perfectly sculpted and lean. The tattoos they added– Blair’s name on his chest, the crown next to his waist, Roman numerals down his side—were so foreign to me. The last time we were this close, he was not so…defined.
“Okay, test shots. Noah, hover above her,” the photographer directed.
He nodded, and like a lion coming in for the kill, he crawled up the bed until he was right on top of me. The only thing between us was the sheets. I could smell him again. He always smelled like fresh vanilla, so calm and sweet.
