Chapter 24 Lex
Lex
I drag Stevie over to the bathrooms, peeking inside to make sure it’s clear, then hauling her in with me and locking the door behind us. I take a moment to inhale three calming breaths before spinning around to face her. “What. The. Fuck.”
The calming exercise failed.
She glares at me and folds her arms. “What the fuck, me ? What the fuck, you .”
“No. These are your fucks. All the fucks belong to you.” I scrub both hands through my hair. “What was that? Do you realize what you just did?”
“I did what you brought me here for.”
“That is wildly untrue.”
“You literally asked me point-blank in the limo if I could sway our audience into believing that I was ‘hopelessly smitten with you.’” She has the audacity to whip out the air quotes. “Well, surprise, Lex. I did.”
“That was not the plan. Not even close. That was so far from the plan, the plan is now lost on a deserted island somewhere in the middle of the Bermuda fucking Triangle.”
“Maybe I improvised a little.” Stevie shrugs, feigning indifference, but the bright red flush on her cheeks tells me she’s equally reeling. “Honestly, you should be thanking me for making this whole thing a lot more convincing.”
“Thanking you.” I scoff a bitter laugh. “Right. Where are my manners?”
“Nobody was going to buy that we were dating. You can barely touch me without dry heaving.”
“I’ve been trying to be respectful, given the fact that you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I violently dislike you.”
“Thanks for clarifying. But you just put us in a whole different spotlight, and now we have to deal with the fallout. There’s no coming back from this.”
“It’s not a big deal—”
“It is a big deal!” I stalk forward, inches from her face.
She freezes, eyes dipping away from me, arms tightening at her chest. “It is a big deal. You announced to the universe that we’re in love.
You implied you were going to move here.
Was that your brilliant plan, Nicks? Are you moving in with me?
I have a spare bedroom. Hell, I have three. ”
“Of course I’m not moving in with you. I was on the spot and got carried away after your mother implied I was a talentless idiot.
” Moisture pools in her eyes. “You brought me here for publicity, to brainwash the public into thinking we were dating. If you had a different plan in mind, you should have filled me in.”
“I told you the plan. It wasn’t that.” Christ. This is a fucking mess. “I told you to let me lead.”
“Because you thought I was incapable.”
“Clearly!”
Her face falls. A tear slips.
I attempt the breathing exercises again, closing my eyes and counting to one. “I’m just trying to make sense of why the hell you would do that.”
Stevie’s jaw clenches as she tries to keep the emotion at bay. “And I’m trying to make sense of why you would disappear for four years after I put my ass on the line for you.”
“I did that for—”
For you, Stevie. I did it for you.
The words almost slip out. I almost confess that she’s the reason I walked away, the reason my life spiraled and every bit of magic drained from my veins.
“For your career,” she finishes for me. “I know.”
No.
I never wanted this.
I only wanted peace.
“It wasn’t for my career.” I shake my head and step away. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”
“Right. I guess I’ll just go ask my therapist.” She deflates.
A weary sigh leaves me, and I gaze down at the smoky gray porcelain tiles. “We need to fix this.”
“I’m sure your people can make a statement.” She follows my hollow stare, tone defeated. “Just say I embellished things. I’ll take the fall.”
My head pops back up. “No. You’re not doing that again.”
Fuck.
That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.
She lied her way into a DUI charge trying to protect me.
The consequences were severe—a hefty fine and a possible prison sentence of up to a year.
It would have ruined her life. I could have told the truth, admitted I was the one behind the wheel.
But it was her car, her word against mine, and neither of us were in the vehicle when the cops arrived.
And then there was my father’s wrath, always looming, waiting for me to slip. I was powerless, barely eighteen, and desperate.
So I did the only thing I could—I begged my parents to make it go away. I promised them my freedom, my future, if Dad would pull whatever strings he had and scrub that DUI off her record. I needed him to do it.
And he did.
But how can I tell her that without sounding like a martyr or a whiny, ungrateful asshole?
I’m one of Hollywood’s biggest stars now, an A-list celebrity.
From her point of view, I’ve got it all—the fame, the fortune—while she was left behind, forgotten.
There’s no way I can explain how empty I feel.
How lost. She’d probably laugh in my face or slap me and tell me to grow the fuck up. I wouldn’t blame her.
Stevie finds my eyes, softness mingling with years’ worth of resentment and pain. She sees the parallels just like I do. “Why shouldn’t I do it again? It worked out well for you the last time I took the fall.”
I hear it in her voice.
She despises me, thinks I stole her dreams out from under her.
I have all she’s ever wanted, but she doesn’t know that her dreams would have been even further out of reach if I hadn’t sacrificed everything to protect her future.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I swivel around, my coattails fluttering behind me. “They’ll tear you apart.”
“So? They’re going to anyway. It was a done deal the moment you wrote me into your show and my name got out.”
A frown furls between my eyes, and I turn to face her.
“It was just a TV show, Nicks. Writers pull from real-life shit all the time.” It’s true I used pieces of the truth and spun the rest to make a good story, but it was therapy for me.
An outlet. It was all I had. “But this? That interview?” I point to the door.
“That was real. Now we need to face the music.”
She huffs. “Music.”
“Yes. You just painted a narrative, and now we need to see it through.”
“See it through how?”
My eyebrows lift to my hairline as I stare at her, waiting for her to connect the dots.
Her head jerks back. “I’m not staying in LA to live out this fake fairy tale with you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That’s exactly what I’m getting at.”
“Wow. No. Absolutely not.”
“What did you think was going to happen?”
“I…I don’t know.” Her complexion goes ashen. “I figured you’d handle it.”
“The only other way of handling it is saying you lied. You’ll be crucified by the media. That’s not an option.”
“I was just trying to help!” she shoots back, eyes flaring with true fear. “You flew me in to parade me around as your new girlfriend. I sold it. I held up my end of the deal, and now the deal is done.”
Someone knocks on the door.
“Fuck.” I curse under my breath, trying to figure out a way to handle this. “Come on. We need to go.”
I take her by the hand and unlock the door, apologizing to one of my costars waiting on the other side as we shuffle by.
Stevie slaps on a fake smile the moment we’re in the limelight again, and I curl an arm around her waist, making eyes with a flustered Rudy as we make our way to one of the tables.
He covertly slides two fingers under his chin.
Damage control, coming in hot.
As the night wears on, we do a few more interviews, keeping to the script Stevie so boldly improvised.
We dig ourselves deeper, minute by minute.
When the cameras are on us, when people are watching, my hands are all over her.
I play with her hair, kiss her cheek, drag the tip of my nose down the soft, porcelain arch of her throat, inhaling her scent, feeling her pulse point flicker and pound as we fall into character and sell the story.
And when there’s a distraction, a break in the attention, I pull away, my hands slipping into my pockets as if they’ve suddenly forgotten their place. Stevie’s smile falters, just for a moment, before she catches herself, putting on that dazzling grin again.
But it’s like a light switch, flipping on and off—on when we’re performing, off when we’re alone in the brief seconds between flashing cameras and badgering stares.
I see it in her eyes, the uncertainty, the swirl of doubt that wasn’t there before.
She’s questioning everything: her choices, her courage, and probably me.
All while I’m questioning how the hell we’re going to keep this charade up without it blowing up in our faces.
Because every touch, every staged whisper, every stolen glance is burying us deeper in this fabricated romance.
And the deeper we go, the more I remember those few burdenless months in the Chicago suburbs.
Passing out beneath her walnut tree, the autumn breeze mingling with the sound of her voice, lulling me to peace.
Piano chords and twinkling stars. Long talks on her roof, her heart bared and mine raw.
The scent of hay and well-loved vegetable gardens, so wholesome and pure.
A feeling.
A soul-settling feeling I haven’t been able to replicate, not here, not in this blackhearted city, draped in false light and disguised as dreams.
The feeling of being alive.
Fear inches its way inside me the longer we mingle, the longer we stand side by side, shoulders glued together, her hand in mine.
Fear that there might come a time when I forget where the acting stops and the truth begins.