Chapter 3
EASTON
T he bright lights were harsh against my face, and the sticky layer of makeup didn’t help. I was supposed to be gazing into my costar’s eyes like she was the love of my life, but my jaw was clenched so tight I could feel a headache forming.
“Take twenty-eight, people. And action,” Paul, our director, called out.
Take twenty-eight. That meant we’d done this exact same scene twenty-seven other times. Twenty-seven other lip-locks. Twenty-seven other failed attempts to capture something that wasn’t there and never would be.
I leaned forward, brushing a hand against her cheek like I’d practiced in the mirror a hundred times, and our lips met.
Don’t flinch , I coached myself as her overeager mouth moved against mine like she was trying to devour me in front of the whole movie set. Her lip gloss tasted like synthetic cherries, and the whole thing felt about as romantic as kissing a corpse.
Not that I knew firsthand what that felt like.
But this had to be close. Somewhere between embalmed and disinterested.
I forced myself to hold the moment, camera-ready and stone- faced, but all I could think about was the last time a kiss had meant something.
Really meant something.
Natalie.
Her name slammed into me like a sucker punch.
She’d tasted like mint and mischief, like strawberry lip balm and too many memories.
Kissing her had never been rehearsed. It had never needed staging.
It was messy and real and electric in a way that couldn’t be manufactured under studio lights.
With her, I never had to fake it. Never had to pretend I was in love.
Because I was.
“Cut!” Paul bellowed, his voice ricocheting across the set. “What the fuck is going on? Easton, you’re supposed to look like you want to kiss her, not like you’re being forced to at gunpoint. What the fuck is going on with your face?”
The crew chuckled, but I didn’t crack a smile as I pulled back from Vanessa, who was blinking up at me like she’d actually felt something. Which was awkward. She was a rising star whose name was plastered all over the tabloids…and she happened to be annoying as fuck.
“I’m acting,” I said dryly.
“Well, stop,” Paul snapped. “Try pretending you like her, not that she’s your dental hygienist. Reset for take twenty-nine.”
I stepped back, swallowing down a sigh as the makeup artist swarmed me again with powder and blotting papers, dabbing the sweat from my temples like it was a crime scene.
This was the part that I hated most about this job—and what I was the worst at.
Paul rubbed his temples. “We need this scene done today, Easton. It’s one little scene. And then you’re done. And we’re all off for Christmas. Please, get your fucking head in the game.”
I was pretty sure that please came out more like a threat, thank you very little…but I couldn’t really blame him. This had to be torturous to watch .
“You know what, let’s take a break for fucking lunch,” Paul announced, muttering to himself as he walked away.
Vanessa gave me a sly little smile and leaned in close. “Maybe we could practice,” she murmured, low enough that the boom mic wouldn’t pick it up, “in my trailer.” Her voice was dripping with suggestion as her hand brushed against my chest.
I forced a polite smile, the kind that said not in a million years . “No thanks,” I said quickly as I stepped out of her reach.
Fuck, that came out aggressive. That was going to make the rest of the day a real treat.
Her face froze in a mixture of irritation and disbelief. I imagined she wasn’t rejected very often, but there had to be a first time for everything, right? Judging by the way she was suddenly snarling and baring her teeth like a rabid wolf—she didn’t agree with that assessment.
“I’ve gotta make a few calls,” I said soothingly, trying to sound charming since I did have to get through at least the rest of the day with her.
“Sure,” she snipped, spinning on her heels and walking off set to her trailer, her hair whipping behind her like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial directed by Satan.
I rubbed a hand down my face and let out a slow exhale…before immediately realizing I now had a sticky layer of makeup smeared on my palm. Great. Now I look like a sweaty raccoon. Could this film be over already?
Reaching my trailer, I shut the door behind me and flopped back onto the small couch.
Kissing scenes. Sex scenes. Anything romantic was the bane of my existence. The only way I’d managed to get through any of them was by thinking about her .
Which was the exact opposite of what I wanted to be doing.
Natalie.
Natalie Fucking Bennett. The girl who’d been living rent-free in my head since the moment I’d seen her face in middle school .
Her honey-blonde hair. The soft way her lips used to part against mine. The little gasp she made when I tucked a hand under her chin and kissed her like the world had gone quiet around us.
Her laugh that had always felt like summer.
What the fuck did that even mean? Was I writing poetry now?
I groaned and leaned back, letting my head thump against the wall. Almost two fucking years without a word, and she was still the first thing I thought of when someone said, love scene or love , or anything remotely resembling soulmates and the person you were obsessed with.
Fortunately, that silence—our exile—felt like it was finally coming to an end. The distance. The wondering. The ache of not knowing if she ever thought of me, too. I was finally going to have the chance to look her in the eye and say all the things I hadn’t been allowed to say.
Maybe then, I could finally get my sanity back.
Grabbing my phone off the tiny foldout table, I unlocked it to check for the text I was waiting for. I’d been sneaking glances at my phone all day like a maniac. And there it was.
Holy fuck.
Right at the top. A text from Levi, my best friend from high school, whose wedding I was supposed to be in. The wedding that, if all went to plan, was going to fix my life and change everything.
Levi: She’s in.
A slow grin spread across my face, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, it felt real. The first real smile I’d worn since…well, since she’d walked away.
She’s in.
This day had just turned around.
Because I was going to the wedding .
Because Natalie was going to be there.
Because, for the first time in almost two years, I had a shot at getting back what I’d lost.
This time, I wasn’t giving her space to run. I wasn’t letting her talk herself out of us, out of what we had.
This time, I was going all in.
I’d already lost her once. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.
Not when I’d waited this long. Not when every part of me still wanted her.
This time…I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
NATALIE
The bar was loud, packed, and exactly where I would normally want to be…if I wasn’t currently spiraling over my sister’s wedding and the fact that I had to leave for it tomorrow. The kind of spiraling that made tequila seem like a viable medical solution.
But I could never say no to Casey, Riley, and Ophelia—they were my ladies—so here I was.
“Are you excited for Paige’s wedding?” Casey asked, looping her arm through mine as we shoved our way through a wall of people who all smelled like beer, bad decisions, and too much cologne.
The knot in my stomach tightened just thinking about it. The wedding. Him .
“At least get me drunk first before you go digging into my deepest, darkest secrets,” I drawled.
She snorted. “I’m pretty sure you spilled one of your darkest secrets last month over two margaritas and a plate of cheese fries.”
“See, that doesn’t count,” I said, raising a finger. “That was a very emotionally vulnerable week. Also, the cheese fries were aggressively salty.”
“You told me you accidentally sexted your pastor thanks to autocorrect.”
“I meant to say feeling blessed, not feeling breast . It was an honest mistake!”
Casey smirked. “I’m not sure that I expected you to label your sister’s wedding as a platform for your dark secrets, but I’m intrigued now.”
I scoffed, because evidently the cheese fries hadn’t been enough to throw her off the scent.
Before she could dig any deeper into my wretched past, we reached the back of the bar, where our group had staked out a couple of booths like pirates laying claim to treasure.
Parker, Jace, Riley, Matty, and Ophelia were already there, laughing and shouting over the music like they were hosting a frat party on karaoke night.
“I was about to come find you!” Parker purred, reaching out to take Casey’s hand and pulling her into the booth.
“As if you weren’t watching me the entire time,” Casey said, sounding amused as she slid in beside him.
Parker looked entirely unbothered by the callout, and I didn’t doubt the statement at all. Parker Davis was obsessed with my bestie. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. He’d literally seen her in class last year, and that was it. He was all in.
Every time I was around them, I felt this weird longing in my chest.
Because I wanted that.
I’d had that once.
And then I’d thrown it all away.
“Sit down,” Riley urged, and I slid into the booth next to her, accepting the red-colored concoction she immediately pushed into my hand.
“Drink,” Riley commanded with a grin. “You look like you need it. ”
“Bless you, bartender goddess of my heart,” I said and downed half the glass in one go.
The burn was instant. But effective. The weight in my chest lightened by just a fraction.
By the time I finished my second drink, I was actually starting to feel better. Or at least drunk enough not to care about my problems and the slow-motion car crash that was my emotional life.
“Okay, I’ve got one,” Jace announced, lifting his beer in the air like he was about to give a toast.
“No,” Matty said, shaking his head.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Jace asked, mimicking Matty’s voice with an unholy amount of sass.
“I’m saying we’re having a great night, let’s not ruin it.”