Chapter 22
Lana
I hated the attention.
I hated the way Madison and Kira watched me like I was a problem they had to work around.
More than anything, I hated the pressure inside my chest that made it hard to breathe normally.
And it was because of Callan. My heart seemed to explode every time I was near him, and I had a hard time understanding why.
Well, I had a suspicion, but I didn’t want to accept it.
There were too many reasons why I couldn’t allow myself to have feelings for him.
It would be too strange, for one. And it’s not what I wanted to gain from this.
My goal was to become more confident and step out of my comfort zone for once, and I had done that.
When Callan called cut, I stood right away.
I didn’t look at anyone. I didn’t want to see their reactions or their silent judgement.
The room was thick with heat, and sweat clung to their skin.
The girls’ hair stuck to their faces, and they all needed a moment to catch their breath.
Trey put the camera down, and Rocco stayed on his chair, looking more than pleased with what the three on the bed offered.
I moved fast. I pressed my notebook to my chest and walked out without saying anything.
I needed air and distance, and once I was out in the hall, I stopped to take a deep breath.
I leaned against the wall and rubbed the back of my hand over my forehead, unable to stop my knees from shaking.
Without having been in the scene, I was exhausted. Mentally more than physically.
My gaze flicked to Callan as he stepped into the hall, stopping a few feet away. He wasn’t naked anymore but wearing sweatpants and a shirt. He didn’t crowd or touch me. He just watched me long enough to understand I needed a moment. After a moment of silence, he asked quietly, “You good?”
“Yeah,” I assured him, sounding more breathless than I really was. I forced myself to look at him. “I just needed out of there.”
He nodded, studying me closely before his eyes dropped to my notebook. “Did you get everything? Need me to answer some more questions?”
My brows furrowed at his offer, and I looked at my notebook before shaking my head. “No, I think I have enough notes. Thank you.”
Our eyes met again.
“Of course.”
We stood there in silence again, just looking at each other until I cleared my throat. “I, uh…I’m going to start writing the essay now.”
“All right.”
“Yup,” I said with a tight smile, unsure how to end this conversation. “Okay, so—”
“You want to get dinner?”
“What?”
“Dinner. Later. I’m done shooting for today, and I’m hungry. Thought you might want to get dinner.”
That surprised me, because Callan had never asked me anything like this before.
Other than me becoming his fluffer and him allowing me to write about his set, there had never been anything we shared.
I watched him a little while longer to weigh how serious he was being.
He kept looking at me with that expectant stare.
“Uh, sure,” I finally replied. “Sounds good.”
“Good. I’m going to send everyone home, clean up in there, and then take a quick shower. Will you be ready in two hours?”
I nodded quickly. “Yes, sounds good.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeated, smiling tightly again. “See you later, then.”
He gave a quick nod, and I turned away to head upstairs without looking back, and with my heart hammering in my throat.
Two hours later, I met him downstairs in the living room.
He was dressed in wide-legged jeans and a white, long-sleeve shirt.
He looked casual, but then, that was his overall style.
I’d even go as far as to say that he looked handsome, but I didn’t want to go there. Not with my heart still acting strange.
I had chosen jeans too, and a baby tee that I once stole from Holland. With my jacket in hand and my purse hanging from my shoulder, I waited for him to notice me. When he did, he gave me a small nod of acknowledgement, letting his eyes fall to my outfit before lifting back to mine.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
He got up from the couch and motioned toward the door. “Let’s go.”
We walked outside, and I waited for him to unlock his car.
As he walked around to the driver’s seat, I took in the luxurious Aston Martin he had bought only a few months ago.
As exciting as it was to get in that car, I wasn’t so sure if taking it just to go have dinner was necessary.
He had two other cars that looked less expensive, but he hadn’t taken them out of the garage since he got this one.
The door opened before me, and Callan leaned over the middle console to look at me. “You coming?”
I snapped out of my thoughts and nodded, then lowered myself into the passenger seat. “Fancy,” I blurted out as I closed the door and buckled my seatbelt.
He chuckled as the car came to life. “You don’t sound nor look convinced.”
“I’m not,” I said honestly, looking over at him as he backed out of the driveway. “And I’m a little worried your car will get stolen in the city.”
“It won’t,” he assured me with a smug grin. “Most people will do is admire it and take pictures.”
“Right.” I let my eyes wander over the interior, amazed at how clean it was. “Please drive slowly.”
He glanced at me, his expression still amused when he said, “As much as I would love to race with this baby, I’m a responsible driver. I paid good money for this car, and I’m not going to recklessly risk totaling it.”
I studied him for a moment, nodding to agree with his mentality. “That’s very responsible.”
He gave a short nod, then moved his full attention to the front. “What are you in the mood for?”
It was an easy question, but it caught me off guard.
There had never really been many options for me when it came to food, because I usually just got the same things at the same places.
I also cooked a lot myself, or just had a sandwich, because it was easy and cheap.
But now, he had thrown me an open question I could answer in many different ways.
I thought about it for a moment, then said, “Maybe sushi?”
“All right. Where do you usually go for sushi?”
“The grocery store.”
Callan frowned, quickly glancing over at me. “The grocery store?”
“Yes. They make it fresh behind the sushi counter. It’s really good, actually.”
He didn’t look pleased with my answer, but he wasn’t going to argue. “So, you’ve never been to an actual sushi restaurant?”
“No. They’re expensive. Especially around here.”
“I’ll take you to Sobu’s,” he stated, looking determined. “You’ll like it. It’s family-owned, and they don’t try to impress anyone. They just make good sushi.”
I smiled faintly. “That sounds nice.”
“It is. They don’t pack the tables together, either. You get space and time, unlike in those high-end sushi places in which you only get to stay two hours before you have to give up the table for the next guests.”
I scrunched my nose. “Those are the worst places.”
“Agreed.”
We hit a red light and rolled to a stop.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his posture relaxed as if he hadn’t been physically active all afternoon.
As intrigued as I was, this wasn’t the right time to ask him how he was able to go so many hours without taking a break during sex.
It already looked exhausting, and the three of them went on for hours.
Instead of asking the question, I stayed quiet.
“Did you start writing the essay?” His voice cut through the silence.
I looked over at him and shook my head. “I’ve only transferred the questions and answers onto my laptop so far.”
“How many words does it need to be again?”
“Three thousand.”
“You’ll definitely manage to write that many words with all the info you got.”
“Oh, yes, for sure,” I said, looking up front again as he did the same when the light turned green. “I might have to exceed the expected word count.”
“I’m sure that’ll be fine.”
“Probably.”
We reached downtown after another five minutes. Callan turned into a narrow side street, then pulled into a small lot behind a beige brick building.
“This is it,” he said. “Sobu’s.”
He parked in a spot and shut the engine off, then looked over at me, waiting for some cue that I was ready to get out.
I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Let’s go in. I’m excited. And hungry.”
He nodded and stepped out. I followed him, shutting the door behind me before falling into step with him.
He guided us to the entrance, and I immediately noticed how calm the place was.
There was soft music playing in the background, and warm lighting filling the restaurant. I quickly felt comfortable and at ease.
A woman behind the counter looked up and nodded at him with familiarity but without excitement. “Good evening.”
“Hey, Emiko. How are you doing?”
“Good,” Emiko replied as she walked around the counter. She smiled, then looked at me with a pleased expression. “Who is this?”
I smiled at her. “I’m Lana. Nice to meet you.”
“She’s my ex-wife’s daughter,” Callan explained.
I tensed, hating the reality of it, but also accepting the simple truth. He didn’t have to lie to her or complicate things.
Emiko kept her eyes on me, noticing my reaction. She moved the conversation right along when she saw how uncomfortable Callan’s words made me and flicked her gaze to him. “Eating in or taking away?”
“We’ll be eating here.”
“Great.” Emiko waved her hand toward the tables. “Sit anywhere you like.”
I thanked her, then waited for Callan to move. I looked up at him when he didn’t.
“You pick,” he said, meeting my gaze.
I scanned the room, taking in the booths along one wall and a few tables in the center. I pointed to a booth near the window.
“That one?”
He nodded. “Good.”