Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
“ H ow’s your script coming along, Agent Provocateur?”
I wince, dragging bright pink nail polish down the side of my big toe. “Oh, shut up, Rose.”
She lets out a witchy little cackle before cursing. I bet she messed up her pedicure as well. “Hey, you begged me to stop calling you Weird Al!”
“Yeah,” I shoot back, “because you kept doing it in public and all the boomers would get their hopes up.”
“I loved that,” she says with a wistful sigh. “Those few seconds of confusion were the only ones that generation didn’t look at me with disappointment.”
I shake my head, moving on to the next nail. “My script is going…fine. I’m almost done with my outline, but I don’t know. It feels like the words aren’t coming to me.”
Rose purses her lips. “Like writer’s block?”
“Not exactly. I can write. I just don’t want to be writing…this.” Which is a shame, because the dramatic tragedy I’m penning is my best chance at winning a destination vacation this summer. Adoria didn’t like my pitches for the romcom, action-adventure, or the thriller before it.
“It’s okay, girlie,” Rose says in a soothing tone. “You’ve got time. No one expects you to pull out a polished manuscript in a week.”
I arch a brow. “Doesn’t your boss literally do that on a monthly basis?”
“Well, not everyone can be Reid Sterling,” Rose replies, flipping her hair. “Besides, his hot fiancé is his muse. Elie’s the only reason he’s currently working.”
I snort, returning Rose’s shit-eating grin. As much as her words are nice to hear, they don’t actually help me put pen to paper. Now, if Adoria wanted me to bring her a romantasy featuring mermaids and gallant byronic heroes, I’d pull a Reid Sterling and deliver her my magnum opus. But whimsy is not her thing. And I desperately need to write something my boss might actually enjoy.
“How’s the living situation going?”
I pause as my train of thought takes a massive detour. How is living with Taylor going?
Strange is one word for it. Or, surprising. But not…unpleasant.
I realize Taylor already found the words to describe our present situation. “He isn’t exactly what I thought.”
Rose nods solemnly. “You’ve seen him naked, haven’t you?”
My eyes bug out. “What? No! No one is seeing anyone naked—”
I don’t realize how loud my voice has grown until a knock at the door causes the words to die in my throat.
The knock rings out again, and on instinct, I call out, “Come in!”
Taylor slides the door open, poking his head inside. He’s in workout clothes again, his forehead glistening with sweat. He scans my room before glancing back at me. “You all right? I heard shouting.”
Rose chooses this moment to let out one of her ear-splitting squeals. I slam my laptop shut, sitting on it for good measure.
“Sorry, I was on the phone with my friend. Everything’s fine.”
“Oh.” He shifts on his feet, looking at a loss for words. “Good. That’s good, then.”
“Uh, did you need something?” I ask when he doesn’t try to leave.
Taylor blinks, and I think he’s going to push the door shut. But he swings it wider, stepping inside my room. I watch him look around, taking it all in. Taylor started after the Havens had their house remodeled. I have no idea if he’s ever seen this room, or even much of upstairs.
He studies my space with the same inscrutable expression he often gives me. Whether he’s impressed by the decor, or disturbed by the gaudiness, I can’t tell. And then he turns his attention to me. I’m already in pajamas—a little cotton babydoll I bought with Rose ages ago. Thankfully, the material isn’t particularly sheer, but Taylor’s gaze still burns where it lingers on my exposed thighs. His throat works as he drags his eyes to an innocuous spot somewhere behind my head.
Despite all the Havens’ planning, there aren’t many places to sit. I scoot off my computer with an awkward laugh, clearing a space beside me in case he wants to perch on the bed. I’m not surprised when Taylor leans against my desk, choosing the furthest possible piece of furniture from me.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you did for me,” he starts, shattering my comfortable silence.
I force out a sigh. “I thought we were past this. You don’t owe me—”
“I’m here to ask you for another favor.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I lean forward, attention piqued. “Oh?”
Taylor clears his throat. “Not knowing how to offer editorial feedback and script coverage has been setting me back. Victor hasn’t trusted me with his projects because I never proved myself. I’d like for that to change. I want to be good at my job. And that means knowing how to tell a story.”
I drum my fingers against my duvet. “I don’t know how much I can help you with script coverage. Adoria’s only given me a handful to work on myself.”
Taylor nods. “I know. That’s why I want you to teach me how to write.”
I’m not sure what I expected Taylor to say…but that isn’t it. My eyebrows are up in my hairline and I’m pretty sure my mouth is wide open when I meet his eyes. “You want me to teach you to write? ”
He ignores the skepticism in my voice. “Your notes were incredible. I read your coverage at least five times over. And not just that…your feedback is always better than mine. You understand how to bring words to life. And I…I still have no idea what I’m going to do for the Havens’ project.”
I drag a hand through my hair, pulling at my scalp. This makes absolutely zero sense. “You do realize we’re in a competition right?” I ask, eyes narrowing on my rival. “If I teach you how to be a better writer, your script could win over mine. I could lose my chance to go to Italy.”
Because let’s face it—the Havens prefer Taylor. He has charm that I don’t. Looks that I don’t. He’s the guy you bring when you want to impress a room full of investors. I’m the one who writes through the night, filling plot holes and redlining a script until it’s free of grammatical errors. If I give him the tools to do both…well, there’s no competition.
Taylor rubs his jaw, and I know he’s come to the same conclusion I have. We both know who the Havens would choose.
“So, what can I do?” he asks, slowly. “What would you need in order to help me with this?”
“I’d need you to bow out of Italy.” The words fall from my lips, fast and even. “You forfeit, and I’ll help you.”
I’m not kidding, and judging by the way Taylor’s face has paled, he knows it.
I reach for my computer, expecting him to stalk off. I’ll do him a favor and pretend he never asked. He can go back to hating the very air I breathe. Or something like that.
“I’ll do it.”
Taylor’s eyes are at half-mast, full of resignation. And something else, too. Something I’d hate to suspect is sincerity.
I let out a strangled laugh. “You wouldn’t.”
But he confirms it with a grim shake of his head. “I would.”
And I know it deep in my bones—he’s telling the truth.
I blow out a breath, trying to calm my skipping pulse. He’s saying I can go to Italy. I can spend the summer working alongside the Havens, where my words might actually mean something. I clap a hand over my mouth, trying not to hyperventilate. Everything I’ve wanted, everything I’ve worked so hard for, is suddenly in reach.
“Hold on.” Taylor’s voice cuts through my ecstasy. “We need some ground rules.”
Reluctantly, I slide my gaze back to his. Taylor is holding himself unnaturally still and I can tell it’s taking everything in him not to rescind the gift he’s offered me.
“If you teach me the wrong things on purpose, if you try to sabotage me, then you’re the one who has to withdraw.”
I roll my eyes, starting to scoff.
“No. I mean it, Montes. I’ll write down everything you teach me and send it to professionals for analysis if it comes down to it. We play fair or we don’t play at all.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “And how exactly are we supposed to trust the other to do as you say? How do I know you’ll actually turn down the trip? You could use me, and still decide to go.”
“We’ll just have to trust each other,” he says with a scowl. “If you have integrity, you’ll keep your word.”
“ I have integrity. Do you?”
We have reached a stalemate. I return Taylor’s glare, unwilling to back down. Sure, he’s been nicer to me these last few days than I ever thought was possible. But I trust the man as far as I can throw him. And the way he’s sizing me up suggests he feels the exact same way.
“Our word won’t do,” I decide. “We need something in writing.”
I can see the crescent shape Taylor’s tongue makes in his cheek. “What, like a contract?”
“Do I look like a lawyer? No.” I stand up, treading circles into the carpet as a plan takes shape in my head. “We’ll each write a letter saying we’re withdrawing from consideration from the Italy trip. If I complete my side of the bargain, I get to hand yours in. If I break the rules, you turn in mine.”
One side of Taylor’s lips lifts into an uneven smirk. “And if one of us goes rogue? Turns in the note before the deal is up?”
I step in close, crowding Taylor against the dresser in a move he’s only ever used against me. “Then the other can follow suit. It’s mutually ensured destruction.”
Are there flaws in my logic? Too many to count. But it’s the best plan I’ve got.
Taylor completes his grin, showing me all of his bleach-white teeth. “This is a stupid idea, Ayla.”
My pulse stutters like it always does when he says my name. He turns it into a different word entirely. One full of purpose, full of promise.
“Are you in?” I ask once I catch my breath.
“I’m in.” He sticks out his hand. “When do we start?”
I let my fingers slide through his, meeting him in a bruising shake. Brilliant idea or the worst one I’ve ever had, Taylor and I are in this now. There’s no turning back, no second-guessing what kind of consequences our twisted partnership might have, when I say:
“We start tomorrow morning.”