Fucking nuts. That’s how I sound.
I quickly take the shirt off and throw it back on the floor, putting on a white tank instead. It’s better when I get dressedin my dressing room, and most of my outfit changes stay there anyway.
My phone makes a noise again and then it buzzes. I look down and my breaths stutter.
Unknown:Hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from someone else’s phone when they set it down and weren’t paying attention. That’s a little psychopathic, I know, but let’s just blame my recent behavior on the next set I’m about to film.
My hands tighten around my phone, and another message alert has me jumping.
Unknown:Okay, I saw how that sounded just now, so how about we pretend this never happened and I see you at the crafty with your favorite pastries?
Maybe what he said should have unsettled me in some way, but all I can do is smile from the inside out. It is a bit odd for me to hook up with someone before giving them my number. I never really thought of doing it before. My phone is mostly used for work and doom scrolling, or the occasional audio book. I’ve never had much of a social life outside all this. Not until him.
We’ve gone running together, shared breakfast and dinner. We went swimming in his pool and got each other off. He was beautiful when he came too, his eyes glowing as if he was coming to life for the first time, and all I could think when I saw him was, “I did that. That was from me.”
I look down at the phone again, starting to write a message and then delete it, not wanting to come off too eager. I’ll play it cool. I won’t respond, and I’ll pretend I didn’t see it because of how busy I am and it got buried in all the messages from my other suitors.
I shove my phone in my pocket, slip on my slides, and exit the trailer. Hayden is outside talking to one of the assistants, and everyone who talks to him is always so fucking flirty. Her hand keeps finding his shoulder, but he doesn’t lean into her,distancing himself when she comes close. He doesn’t do that with me. My heart kicks and I tighten my fists at my sides, forcing myself to walk past them while pretending not to notice him there.
I stand in front of the crafty, lifting a plate and slapping it against my hand, trying not to look behind me to see if he’s following me. The pop tarts are on the table like he said they would be, with a different design on top than usual. I study them closer and the crust looks flakier too, and not one single pop tart is the same size as another. My neck tickles at the back as I struggle to stay still.
Did he see me? Was he too wrapped up in his conversation with her to notice me walking by? My stomach plummets. I can’t stop the irrational thoughts from coming, and if anything, they start to spiral out of control. Has he asked her to join him at his house for dinner? Has she been in his pool? Has she been in his bed?
I’m about to turn around and head to my dressing room, but my feet halt when a hand lands next to mine. I look up to the left of me and Hayden’s smile has my breath sticking to the back of my throat.
“You found the breakfast I made you.”
My chest flutters. “You . . . you made these?”
“Yeah. Go ahead and try them. Let me know if they pass the Sterling test.”
My mouth wrinkles in the corners and I set two on my plate, not caring who’s watching for once. The most important person is looking, while also liking everything he sees. It’s hard to care about anyone else’s approval when I have his.
“Go on,” he encourages, and I don’t realize I already have one in my hand until it’s pressed to my lips.
It’s sweet with the first bite, and I sink my teeth into the center, humming around it as the soft pastry easily slides on mytongue. It’s delicious. Better than the ones from the bakery. And what heightens the experience is having such a good audience.
He’s so enamored by me. His eyes are filled with wonder, and they’re glued in place, as if he doesn’t want to miss a minute of his favorite show.
“Good?”
“Yeah.” I eat some more and he licks his lips, the corners lifting. His eyes are filled with hunger, needing me to enjoy more of what he brought me. Needing him to see the truth behind my sounds, of how much I’m really enjoying it, I say, “It’s probably the best thing I’ve eaten.”
“I like feeding you.”
I smile, licking at my fingers, and reach for the second pop tart. “I like eating, so that works out.”
He chuckles, face elated. “Does that mean you’ll agree to have dinner with me again?”
“At your house?” Not sure I can get away with going that far out again.
“No. The hotel I’m at has two restaurants and room services.”
I set the pop tart back down, my breaths shaky. “I don’t know. Are other people who are working on the movie staying there?”
“No. I made sure before booking my room. They’re mostly staying at the Holiday Inn across the way. Where I’m at is a little further down.”
“Maybe.”