Chapter 42 Verity
FORTY-TWO
Verity
“Shit.”
I search under the bed, through all my bags, and even between the couch cushions, but my phone is nowhere to be found.
All the above-the-line cast have been assigned quaint cottages along the Santa Barbara shore.
Everyone else is staying at the hotel. I’ve turned this place upside down searching for my phone, but I’m beginning to accept that I left it somewhere.
“Ugh.” I sift through the contents of my purse one last time, even though I know it hasn’t magically appeared in the two minutes since I last checked. “Am I gonna have to put on clothes and go outside?”
I glance down at my thin camisole and cutoff jeans, just an inch below butt-cheek level.
It’s my favorite thing to write in, and it worked its magic tonight.
I’m finally making some headway on this pitch, but now I have to break the flow to go find my cell.
I’m working myself up to put my outside clothes back on when there’s a soft tap at the door.
One of the last text messages I read was from Monk.
He was working with Neevah and Trey, and said he probably wouldn’t come through tonight.
It would be late and we’d risk being found out.
Even knowing that, I check the keyhole, my heart pounding in anticipation, only to deflate when I see who’s here.
“Chris, hey.” I open the door wider. “What’s up at… I don’t have my phone, but it’s got to be past midnight?”
“Sorry. Yeah, it’s late.” His eyes drop to my chest, sliding over my collarbone and neck until he makes it back to my face. “Um, but I saw your light on, and I figured you’d want this.”
He extends my phone and I grab it, laughing with relief.
“I saw it on set when we were cleaning up for the day,” he says.
“I’m forever leaving this phone somewhere. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I reach up to give him a quick hug, but when we start pulling apart, his arms tighten around me and he doesn’t let go.
Before I can even formulate a thought, he’s kissing me, his tongue pushing past my lips and into my mouth.
For a few seconds, I’m frozen, shocked by his audacity, but I struggle in his grip, humming a protest against the mouth crushing mine.
He bites my lip, which I think is supposed to be sexy, but it hurts like a motherfucker.
“Ow.” I jerk away and punch his chest. “Chris, what the hell?”
“I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met,” he says, his eyes glazed over. “That was incredible.”
“Not for me.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and glare at him. “Chris, why’d you kiss me?”
“Well, we’ve been dancing around this thing between us since shooting began.” He rakes his eyes up and down my body. “When I saw you dressed in that and you hugged me, I thought—”
“You thought wrong. Chris, we haven’t been dancing around anything. At least I haven’t been. Besides, I’m seeing someone.”
The words leave my mouth before I have time to consider them. Monk and I agreed we weren’t exclusive, and maybe I tell myself Chris will take the rejection better if he thinks there’s someone else. I have to admit, at least to myself, that I want there to be someone else.
I want there to be Monk.
“I’m so sorry.” His face flushes a deep red and, though I know we aren’t that far apart in age, he seems really young. My heart goes out to him, even though my sore lip is holding a grudge. “I-I… oh, God, did I force myself on you?”
“No.” I grimace. “I mean, I didn’t want to kiss you, but I think you just misread the situation. It’s… it’s fine, but you should probably go now.”
“Okay, yeah.” He turns to leave, but sends an anxious look over his shoulder. “Are you sure you—”
“Yup. See you tomorrow.” I close the door and lean against it. My bottom lip throbs and I run my tongue over it to soothe the soreness. “That little stinker bit me.”
I chuckle and turn my phone over and see an unread text.
Monk: Now Canon has pulled me into one of his late-night huddles. See you tomorrow.
It’s probably for the best. I need to write.
“May as well keep going,” I mutter, locking the door and settling in at my laptop for a few more hours.