4. Side-Eyed
FOUR
side-eyed
“What’s your ETD, bro?” Jacob asks through a mouthful of cereal.
“My what?” I laugh.I wonder if the guy can talk without food in his mouth, or if it’s some kind of requirement.
“Estimated time of departure, bonehead.” Jacob doesn’t laugh. He’s too busy inhaling his Lucky Charms.
“The driver should be here in five to ten. So anytime now.” I’m still packing my gear into my duffel bag. Char wasn’t sure which scene we’d start with, so she told me to be prepared.
“Damn, you’re moving up in the world. A driver taking you to the set? Damn.” Jacob shakes his head and shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Imma want details. You know that, right? I need to live vicariously through your tongue.” He sticks his own tongue out at me for emphasis. Disgusting.
“Dude, put that nastiness away. You’ve still got food on it. And I’m not telling you anything, so don’t even bother. Just because I’m the unwilling recipient of your hookup stories doesn’t mean I’m going to reciprocate.” I cringe at my wording, because I realize I’ll have to make up the hookup part of whatever story Brianna and I use to explain our relationship .
This feels wrong on so many levels. If she weren’t so damn afraid of this stalker, I wouldn’t be putting myself in this position. But she is, so I am.
“What? Come on! I’ve got nothing but this. Let me live!” His hands fly up in his dramatic plea.
I’ve got to say, Jacob’s acting is getting better. He could probably score a soap opera or something.
“You just hooked up with that girl from your audition last week. That’s not nothing, my friend.”
“True. And she was hot. But she isn’t America’s diva sweetheart, and I didn’t star in her music video.”
“I’m not starring in it.”
“You ain’t an extra.” He tilts his head. “So I’ll expect a detailed description of all physical interactions.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. Two words: nondisclosure agreement. If I tell you ...”
“Right, you gotta kill me.” Jacob shakes his head again and turns back to his bowl of soggy mush.
“No, idiot. I’ll have my ass sued. I’ll never get another job, and you’ll have to support me. I will literally be blackballed in Hollywood.”
For real. I spent nearly two hours going over the contract with Char, asking questions before I’d sign the dang thing. Signed it. Done deal. Brianna went off someplace else while Char and I sat in an office on the tenth floor, but almost the second we emerged, she appeared, nonchalantly asking how things went. She even smiled at me.
Well, almost.
“Yeah, whatever. Not that I’ve ever had to sign a nondisclosure agreement, but anyway. You da man.” He brushes me off with one hand and shovels more cereal in with the other.
Not even a minute later, my phone buzzes with a text. I pull it up to check the message.
Char
pulling up now.
“Gotta go. Do some dishes today,” I call out as I start to leave.
“No effing way, man,” Jacob calls back. “I keep work at work, douchebag.”
Being a busboy has ruined him in so many ways ...
I leave the apartment wondering when I should tell him I’m moving out and into Brianna’s estate. Since I can’t give him any details about the actual deal, I’m going to have to lie. Lying to the general population is one thing. I’m okay with that. They don’t need to know about Brianna’s personal life just because she’s famous. But lying to my friends, my family ... that’s harder to wrap my head around.
Char insisted the more people who know what’s up between us, the greater the danger of it all blowing up in our faces. According to her, it’s strictly between me, Char, and Brianna. That’s it.
Char is awfully bossy for an assistant.
Just as I make it to the sidewalk, a black SUV with tinted windows pulls up. Jeez. If they wanted less public speculation, they should have gone with a less obvious mode of transport. Every dang famous person in Hollywood uses the same freaking car.
Maybe they figure there’s safety in numbers. Maybe it’s some kind of Where’s Waldo? conspiracy: you can’t find the one you’re looking for when they all look the same. I’ll probably be getting a crash course in this kind of thing soon enough. I picture Char standing next to a whiteboard, making charts and graphs and looking all crazed as she demands I follow her orders.
After storing my bag in the back of the SUV, I open the back passenger door and climb in. As soon as I close it and look to my right, I see Brianna in her tortoiseshell glasses staring back at me. Hard. Without the shaded lenses or the book to cover her face, I’m able to really see her; look right into her eyes.
My lungs jump up into my mouth immediately, and I can barely take a breath. I actually have to swallow the air to get it down.
Let me say this: Brianna in a bikini is hot. Brianna with her hair and makeup done is brutally hot. Brianna every day of the week in every magazine out there is hot. But Brianna in a plain white T-shirt and red sweatpants, no makeup on, with huge rimmed glasses and her hair in a messy ponytail ... There is no comparison. Everyone else sees Brianna when she’s perfect, but I get to see her when she’s real.
So damn beautiful.
As Char once again clears her throat to get my attention, I realize I’ve been blatantly checking Brianna out. I turn my head away, looking right at Char, not wanting to be any more obvious than I’ve already been. I try to focus on whatever she’s saying, but then the most important detail sinks in, causing my lungs to invade my mouth.
Brianna was checking me out too.
Is she still checking me out?
I’ve never wanted to side-eye a girl more in my life. Ever.
“We’ve got today’s shoot all planned. Here’s the schedule.” Char reaches back to hand the papers to both of us. “You’ll each be on separate sets this morning, then you’ll do your scene together this afternoon. If everything goes smoothly, the first day should wrap by ten.”
“At night?” My head snaps up. “That’s almost fifteen hours!”
“If we’re lucky.” Char doesn’t miss a beat. “Zack will be on the obstacle course, Brianna in the barracks, then we’ll reunite the couple in the yard for the finish.”
“Where the hell are we going?” I start to tell myself not to push back the way I am, but then I remember Char is Brianna’s assistant .
This time it’s Char who gives the side-eye, aimed right at me. “Military training base at Camp Pendleton.”
I sit back in my seat, looking down, and decide not to ask any more questions. Maybe I really don’t want to know.
The rifle kicks back as I pull the trigger.
I’ve hit the target perfectly each time, even with all the gear and the helmet on. The camera angle has been changed at least fifty times to get every possible view of me in full fatigues, shooting at a paper target one hundred yards away.
“Cut!” the director calls out, hopefully for the last time this scene.
I stand up and make sure the safety is locked in place. Even though I have plenty of experience with firearms, I hate them. I need this one away from me.
Various crew members start to gather props and gear, cleaning the set. That’s the only sign I need to know it’s time to get out of the firing range.
I look around for Char, or for someone with information about where I need to go next. Instead I see Brianna standing ten feet away, next to the prop trailer. I’m close enough to recognize that look in her eyes again.
I don’t hesitate to walk over to where she stands. The nerves I feel around her seem to vanish whenever she drops her guard like this and lets her fear surface. I stop worrying about myself and how out of place I’ve felt all day and focus only on her. It pisses me off that no one else seems to notice the look in her eye. I will say, she does a good job of masking it around everyone. But her eyes tell the truth.
The entire drive to the base where we’re filming she was calm and quiet. But the moment I opened the door to get out and turned back to give her a hand, I saw the fear return at full force. She was petrified. Her hand shook in mine. I grabbed it a little tighter, causing her to look up into my eyes. I didn’t say anything, but she knew what I was asking, with my raised brows and tight lips.
Are you okay?
Her eyes closed, and I watched as she took a deep breath. The second she opened those eyes again her mask was in place. The diva was back, a tiny smirk plastered on her lips. She dropped my hand and swayed her hips, sauntering off to her makeup trailer. But I wasn’t fooled by her act.
Especially after seeing that flash of fear once again.
“Done with your scene?” I ask as I lean against the trailer next to her. With her body at an angle, our height difference becomes more prominent. Her head barely hits my shoulder. I find myself letting my legs slide out a little, leaning more of my weight on the wall so I can get a better look at her.
“Yeah. It was pretty smooth, I guess. I just had to lip-synch while writing a letter.” Her eyelids flutter while she speaks.
Why does she seem suddenly shy?
“Hmm, cool.” I nod. “I guess mine was smooth too, although I had to do more than write a letter.” I shake my head. All morning they had me crawling under netting and climbing over walls at the obstacle course. Then I had to shoot that dang rifle repeatedly. My hand is still vibrating from the kickback.
Brianna finally looks up at me, straight on. “You’re pretty impressive, by the way. I know nothing about guns, but it looks like you’re an expert.”
I hold her stare, shifting my jaw.
According to Jacob, I have no game. I stumble when I talk to women—especially women I’m attracted to. Jacob insists I’ll be a bachelor forever, because there’s no way I’ll score a girl with my level of awkward silence.
Of course, there’s a reason for the awkward silence on my part. Total nerves and zero confidence. That’s what years of being told you’re a loser will do. If it weren’t for karate, I’d probably still believe it .
Yet my lack of confidence and awkward silences have almost ceased to exist with Brianna, to my surprise. The obvious fear in her eyes takes my nerves away; forces me to be confidentforher. But now she’s looking at me with her own confidence, not fear, my nerves take over once again, and I don’t know what to say next.
Unfortunately for me, my tongue doesn’t get the “shut the hell up, you’re a nervous idiot again” memo.
“That Char is super bossy, don’t you think? I mean, for an assistant. She’s not real into giving details, is she?” I chuckle. “Is she on something? I mean, other than sunshine and rainbows.” Word vomit. Which has never happened to me before.
The second I start talking, I know it’s a bad idea. The look on Brianna’s face is the nail in the coffin. My comment bothers her—a lot.
“No, she’s not on anything. She’s the last person left that I trust. She’s more than my assistant now. She manages everything. Keeps my life running. I’ve known her since I was ten. She’s always been my best friend.”
This is why I don’t go for speaking roles. I should stick to awkward silences instead to avoid situations like this. I can tell Brianna is upset by what I said. Which makes things way more awkward than zero words would have.
“Oh. Yeah, I can understand that. I bet most people just want something from you.”
Stop talking, Zack.
Brianna shrugs. “Basically.”
I have a feeling she just put me into that category—the “people who want something from Brianna” category. And I feel terrible about it, because I don’t want anything from her.
I’m her professional boyfriend now, so I need to do the boyfriend thing and apologize for my stupid words.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I know I’m an awkward idiot, so I’ll just shut up now.”
My mouth is my enemy .
She says nothing for a beat, but then she takes a deep breath and turns slightly in my direction. “No, you aren’t,” she says, now looking at me again. “I don’t date idiots ... anymore.” She winks and gives me what I now think of as her signature half-smile. It’s the only kind I’ve seen her give.
I really want to turn that into a full-blown grin one of these days.
Our eyes lock on one another, and I feel it again—that feeling I had when I jumped into the car this morning. The connection between us that shouldn’t be there but is.
I have an overwhelming urge to touch her hair—no longer in a messy ponytail but curled and styled. Her outfit for the shoot is casual: denim shorts and a simple graphic T-shirt. I’m standing next to her in military fatigues.
Neither one of us break the stare. Neither one of us move an inch.
Until Char speaks.
Then we both jump.
“Okay! The schedule is moving along smoothly, thank goodness. You guys can head to the craft tent and eat while we set up at the yard. We’re waiting for magic hour to film the jeep scene, then we’ll finish off with close-ups.”
“Magic hour?” I ask.
“When the lighting is perfect,” Char clarifies. “The sun dips and casts the perfect glow. You can’t find a filter that good.”
“Can I ask a question?” I direct my words to Char, but I guess either one of them can tell me.
“Yeah. What’s up?” Char responds.
“Why the army thing? The song isn’t about war or soldiers.” The whole thing makes no sense.
Char steps closer to both of us. I can tell by the look on her face I’ve asked a more serious question than I realize.
“Remember what our end goal is? Paint you as the boyfriend.”
I nod, so Char continues.
“We have a secondary goal with this video—to paint you as a badass. Just enough to deter anyone who might want to try anything with Brianna. Military is the best way to showcase your weapons skills. Anything else would be too controversial.”
“And I’m guessing you’re going to do the same with my black belt. That’s why you had me bring my gear.”
“Correct. That will be later in the week, actually.” Char looks down at her clipboard. “Thursday. Clear your schedule, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns and heads in the other direction.
“I’m looking forward to Thursday now,” Brianna says quietly at my side.
I look over at her to find her once again gazing at me, and I smile. “Me too.”