Steal(Seaside Pictures Book 3)(26)

And all she’d done was force me to do a duet so we could both sleep.

I grinned the entire way to set, and made a mental note to apologize.





I PANICKED

Anyone would panic after that scene.

In bed together.

Comfortable.

Sexy.

Hot.

Sweating.

I gripped the front of my baseball cap and tugged it harder onto my head as the Uber pulled up to set.

Had someone said “Hey Ang you look a bit hot, need something?” I would probably ask for a cold slap to the face. This wasn’t… real. He was helping me because he had no choice.

There was a nothing there.

There never would be again.

No matter how treacherous my legs were as they wrapped around his body like they belonged together — like we still fit.

But Will had changed.

Everything about him was different, from the way he carried himself to the way his language had shifted from this playboy to some psycho adult who should have five kids and a mortgage.

Tremors wracked my body, maybe I was getting sick, maybe it was him. It wasn’t the type of physical response that happens after trying to get clean. A sick metallic taste filled my mouth.

I needed a minute.

One damn minute.

To gain my composure.

To forget about his touch.

And the way he used to look at me.

But the problem with the way I had loved Will, with such abandonment, with such desperation, with such stupidity — my body always remembered what it felt like to have that loved returned.

When he was my only safe place. When I had nothing but empty fame, money, and friendships that led down dark roads.

I’d followed him.

And clung to him.

And he’d been every damn thing.

I don’t think he expected that last song to hit like it did — worldwide phenomenon was what it was.

And suddenly Will was everywhere but by my side.

And I was on set.

The band went on hiatus while Will dealt with even more fame, while he sent his own bandmates to cheer me up when I’d call him in tears.

“Ang!” Jaymeson’s voice pierced through my muddled thoughts, through the memories. Through the other voices that always said that there was a really quick way to fix the hurt in my body, the ache in my bones.

No.

I physically shook my head and took another step, my tennis shoes sunk into the sand as I trounced toward the British accent currently yelling for me to hurry the hell up, toward the same kind makeup artist from the previous day’s work.

“Am I late?” I blinked under my baseball cap in confusion, while Jay’s eyes narrowed in on me, scrutinizing from head to toe. Suddenly, I wished I would have at least tried to do something with myself, I probably looked homeless with my sneakers, boyfriend jeans, and old Yankees shirt. At least my eyes weren’t swollen, right?

Instead, he took a step back, tapped his chin, nodded twice, and said, “Keep it.”

I was way too tired and stressed out for crazy directors. “Keep what, exactly? Help me out, Jay, it’s just after five and I forgot to get coffee.”

He thrust his Starbucks cup in my hand and turned on his heel. “Don’t touch her Gem, she looks perfect for the scene.”

I gaped after him. “Wait, no, Jay, my face—”

He waved without looking back.

The coffee cup was singeing off my fingertips.

What the hell just happened?

I gave Gem a help me look.

She simply winked and went back into the trailer while one of the assistant PAs shoved a few sheets into my hand. “A few changes, nothing much.”

I glanced down.

A few changes, my ass.

There was an entire new scene, new lines, all starring—

I gulped.

No, no, that couldn’t be right.

That wasn’t how the story went.

I’d read the script months ago and it never had a scene where the villain, also known as me, Amy, myself, whatever, breaks down and has a heart to heart then almost jumps into the ocean and drowns herself only to rescue herself at the last minute.

Rescue herself?

How does a person even do that?

The damn chills were back, wracking my body. I quickly took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. Damn it, Jaymeson! Did he really not believe in sugar or creamer? Would probably commit a crime just to snatch one of Zane’s marshmallows.

“He’s been here since last night,” Lincoln’s voice came from my right, scaring the absolute shit out of me. He steadied me on my feet, bracing my shoulders with his hands before looking into my eyes. “You look different.”

I growled, “It’s called no filter jackass.”

“Huh?”

“Makeup isn’t on my face.” I said slowly.

“Whoa!” He held up his hands, flashing me one of his stupid movie star smiles that I’m sure worked one everyone but his sister. “I didn’t say bad different, did I?”