Never Say Never (18 page)

Mr. Weebly steps closer, his cologne too strong. I’m sitting and he’s standing above me, trying to eyeball my breasts. I’m wearing a button-up shirt today, and I pull the collar closer together.

“I assume I’m to thank for this,” he says with a smile. “I set you two up.”

Ew. I mentally recoil. There is no way I want to associate Mr. Weebly with my relationship—or lack thereof—with Aiden. “Uh, yeah. I guess. Thanks?”

“And why don’t I know about the horses?”

I shake my head. “You never asked?”

He laughs like that’s actually funny. “I want you to write an article about this…this nurse mare foal thing.”

I straighten up. “Really?”

He nods. “Get a picture of Aiden with that baby horse. It’s at your house, I’m assuming.”

“She is, but I don’t know about the picture,” I say, my hope dying inside already. “Don’t we have to talk to his agent and get permission and other legal stuff like that?”

Mr. Weebly raises an eyebrow. “Officially, yes, but you two seem close enough to get something personal.” He winks. “If not, I’m sure you can find a way to convince him. Get the picture, and you can write the article.”

He walks away, and I’m left more than a little horrified. Did my boss really ask me to use Aiden? And if Aiden doesn’t want his picture in our little paper then I’m supposed to sleep with him to get him to say yes? My skin crawls.

I wait until Mr. Weebly is in his office to sneak my phone from my purse and text Lori, telling her what just happened. I sigh and put my phone back down, then turn back to the computer. Photo or not, I’m writing this article.

Chapter 15

A weekend of no sleep, drinking, and popping pain pills leaves me looking and feeling like shit. So much so that I get sent back to my hotel early Monday afternoon. Everyone thinks I have some sort of bug, and it’s all well wishes and fake feel-better bullshit no one really means. Besides the director. He’s pissed I look like crap, even after an hour in makeup.

I don’t mean to pass out and sleep the day away. I don’t mean to take a nasty combination of pills and alcohol that render me sick and shivering on the bathroom floor. And I certainly don’t mean to not call Haley back.

When I can finally drag myself into bed, it’s half past eleven, and I don’t want to wake her up in case she’s sleeping. I miss her, and I want to hear her voice. I look at her picture then lay down. I’ve done nothing but lay down all day, yet I’m exhausted. And I still have to go over my lines for tomorrow.

After a few minutes, I get up and channel my character. I read over the love scene to the mirror, perfecting my facial expressions. It’s easy to do this time around. I just imagine saying those sweet things to Haley.

I keep myself in character as I go to sleep that night. The character, Blake, finally fucks his love interest, and the scene ends with them cuddling together. It’s sweet and lame and something that’s not my style. Yet I find myself feeling a longing to act out that scene in real life.

I deliver my lines perfectly. I am Blake. I feel what he feels, want what he wants. I actually get a compliment from the director, and he’s famous for not handing them out. I’m feeling good, and I call Haley when we break for lunch.

“Hello?” she says softly.

“Hey,” I say back.

“Aiden,” she breathes my name and my heart stops. I close my eyes and smile. “How are you?”

“Pretty damn good. You?”

“Okay.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I know,” she says. “But I am. I will be, at least. How’s filming?”

“It’s been a good day.” I smile, proud of my performance. With the lack of retakes, we might finish everything slated for today early. “How’s work for you?”

She lets out a snort. “I’ll tell you about it when I’m not here. Well, if you want to talk to me again.”

The self-doubt in her voice hurts. “I would like to…if you want me to.”

“I do. And thank you, Aiden.”

I smile, having nearly forgot about the groceries. “It’s the least I can do, and I really didn’t do anything. I just told Claire to have food delivered to you house,” I admit. “And I’m glad you got some sleep.”

“I dreamed about you,” she whispers. I can hear other people talking around her and remember she’s at work.

“A sex dream, right?” I say with a smirk.

“If it was, I wouldn’t tell you,” she says, and I can tell she’s smiling.

“Then I know it was one. Was I good in this dream? I gotta know so I can live up to your expectations.”

“There you go, being presumptuous again,” she laughs.

“Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” She was a fan before we met. Has she thought about fucking me before? Becoming a sex icon is weird. Don’t get me wrong, I love it at times. But it’s fucking weird to know that women all over the world fantasize about me solely based on my looks and the little bit of personality they see during interviews, and it’s all fake anyway.

“I have very high standards,” she jokes. “Dream or no dream.”

“I always please, multiple times. And I have dreamed about it. More than once.”

“You did not just say that!” she exclaims, and I smile as I imagine the look on her face. “You are a little cocky, ya know.”

“There’s nothing little about my cock.”

She just laughs. “We’ll see about that. Oh my God, no, no—I didn’t mean—oh shit,” she stammers, and I laugh even harder. “Friday,” she says. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t care,” I say honestly. “I’m still not sure what to do around here.”

“There’s plenty to do by you, in Billings. Here…we have a movie theatre that closes at nine, two diners, one pizza place, and a couple fast food chains. Oh, and a bar, of course.”

“How do you live?”

She just laughs. “You get used to it, and online shopping is a life saver.”

“How’s Aurelia?” I ask before I have to go.

“She’s doing pretty well, actually. I think she’s lonely, and I feel bad because I’m gone all day and don’t feel comfortable letting her out when I’m not there. Not yet at least.”

“If you could do horse stuff full time, would you?”

“God, yes,” she says right away. “That’s what my mom did. But it’s not that easy. Rescues are expensive, and I have vet bills to pay, so I’m stuck here. I refuse to believe it’s forever though.”

“I don’t believe it either.” I make a mental note to have Claire look into the expenses of horse rescues. Speaking of Claire, she’s motioning to me. “I have to get back to work,” I tell her. “I’ll call you again. You still have to tell me why you’re having a bad day.”

“It’s not so bad anymore,” she says softly. “And I’d like that. Bye, Aiden.”

The rest of the day crawls by. So do Wednesday, and Thursday, and even Friday. I’m not needed on set Friday, so I take a cocktail of Norcos, Ambien, and a shot of Scotch and pass out early Thursday night, after talking to Haley.

We’ve talked every day over the phone; I call her whenever I have spare time on set. It’s easy talking to her, and if a few minutes pass where nothing is said between us, it isn’t awkward. I’m not a fan of talking on the phone at all. Half the time when my own sister calls I decline it and just listen to her messages. I shouldn’t do that, I know. She still lives in London so I never see her, but fuck, I hate talking on the phone. With Haley, it’s different. Everything with her is.

Tonight, I’m taking her to dinner in Billings. She mentioned on the phone that she wasn’t sure what to wear, so I had Claire pick something out and send it to her house. Haley has no idea a designer dress will be waiting for her when she gets off work. A car is picking her up and we are meeting here, at the hotel.

I get out of the shower and get dressed, then sit at the foot of the bed, flipping through channels as I impatiently wait for Haley to arrive. I can’t handle the dark thoughts that swirl in my mind. I try to shut them out, but images of Haley dying in a car crash on the way to the hotel flash through my brain.

Then I think about what it would feel like to be in a crash. I see it all play out in slow motion, everything from knowing you’re going to die a moment before it happens. How long after impact would I suffer before I actually die? I feel the windshield break into a million tiny pieces and tear open the skin on my face. The airbag pushes the glass into my flesh even more. The car would flip and roll, and I’d be jostled into unconsciousness.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I mutter to myself and stand up, opening the top drawer of the dresser. I pull out a pill bottle and break a Tramadol in half. I take it with water, wanting to be coherent when Haley arrives. Coherent but calm.

She calls me when she gets into the hotel lobby. I stand, take a look at myself, then leave the room. My bodyguard, Frank, tags along to keep fans from taking unwanted pictures or getting too close. As much as I love my fans, I just want a nice night out with Haley.

I hardly recognize her when I leave the elevator and step into the lobby. She’s standing with her back to me, hair curled and pinned up to her head. The dress I bought her is midnight blue and tight in all the right places, giving her a perfect hourglass figure. She put on a black sweater that doesn’t quite go with the dress, and it pains me to remember the hint of scars I saw on her shoulder.

“Haley,” I say, and she turns around, smiling. The dress is low cut, and her breasts are pushed up. I can’t help but stare for a second—or a few seconds—before moving my gaze to her face. “You look beautiful.” I extend my hand for hers.

“Thanks,” she says as she links our fingers. “It’s thanks to you, though. This dress is beautiful on its own.”

I step in close and kiss her. It’s just as intoxicating as before, and I want to take her upstairs and into my hotel room, slowly removing her clothes and kissing every inch of her until she begs me to fuck her.

“You look nice too,” she says, arms wrapping around me. I move closer, my hips brushing against hers. I’m getting turned on from being so close, and she can feel my cock harden. Her eyes narrow, and she kisses me again.

Frank clears his throat. Right. I’m in the middle of the hotel lobby. People are watching, probably snapping pictures. I reluctantly step back and take Haley’s hand. “Are you hungry?” I ask her.

“I’m starving,” she says. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

I smile and realize it’s the first time I’ve had a date tell me she wants to eat. “I did eat after lunch, but I’m still hungry,” I tell her. “I’m always hungry.”

I hold her hand as we walk out of the hotel, and Frank opens the door to a black sedan for us. I get in first, sliding over. Haley gets in next to me and looks around.

“This is so weird,” she says.

“Being in a car?”

“Being treated like I’m important.”

I smile. “I think you’re important.”

“Well, you’re one of the few. But thanks.”

I nudge her arm. “You’re important to your horses.”