Chapter 31 – Willa
THIRTY-ONE
WILLA
Dinner is a misery.
Chris orders for himself before ordering for me, and he gets me a salad I absolutely hate.
I end up pushing it around the entire meal while he devours a plate of steak and potatoes that look fantastic.
I contemplate asking the kitchen to make me what he has, but after just forty minutes with this man, I’m already desperate for this date to end.
He spends the entire time smiling, showing off alarmingly white veneers, and talking about himself.
His accomplishments, his projects, his notable movies.
With each one, he asks me if I’ve seen it, and if I say no, he gives me a rundown of the entire plot.
Unfortunately, I learned early not to lie; if I say I’ve seen it, he asks me for my favorite scene, which, obviously, is difficult.
Having been in this industry for most of my life, I’m very used to self-absorbed celebrities who only want to talk about themselves, but this situation definitely takes the cake.
As the night goes on, I find myself desperately hoping this is simply his nerves showing.
He was kind and charming at the meeting this morning, so I thought it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.
For a bit, I even thought that maybe, when it ended, I’d have another friend in the industry, as had happened a few times before.
Instead, I find myself wondering just how the hell I’m going to manage six entire months of this.
When the server comes to ask us about dessert, Chris answers before I can.
“Have to watch your waistline, am I right?” he asks with a grin.
When I smile back, I can taste blood from biting my tongue so hard, but I figure that enduring his douchebaggery is better than staying here longer than absolutely necessary.
After I pay the bill (yes, I pay the bill), Chris leads me into the entryway, where we wait for Gabe to give the all-clear before we leave.
I’m almost home free, just needing to take a small walk around the pond in the nearby park, giving paparazzi a chance to take shots of our magical first date before I can go home, curl up in some sweats, and call Leo.
“One thing,” I say quietly, looking around to make sure there are no listening ears around. “Before we head outside.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his attention to his wrist, adjusting his cufflink. I force myself not to make a face at his inability to even pretend he cares about what I have to say.
“No kissing tonight.” His head snaps up, finally giving me attention, and his brow furrows.
“Excuse me?”
“No kissing,” I start, then take in a deep breath.
“Not for the first date. I’d like to spread it out.
” I know rationally I’ll have to kiss him at some point, have to give the cameras and the media what they want, but the idea of doing it so soon after leaving Leo makes my stomach turn.
I’m relieved when, after a moment of hesitation, Chris nods.
“Okay, that’s fine,” he says with a smile, and I return it with a genuine one for the first time all night. My phone buzzes with a text from Gabe, and I look up at Chris.
“Thank you for understanding,” I say.
“Of course. Now let’s go stun the cameras, shall we?” he asks, giving me his elbow. I take it and smile again as he leads us out of the restaurant, the camera’s flashing and paparazzi calling our names.
We walk along the pond, lit by the moonlight, and chat some more.
He asks me a few questions about myself, and I find myself almost enjoying the evening.
I decide he must have just been nervous earlier in the dimly lit romantic restaurant, feeling the all too familiar pressure of the strange situation.
As we walk and chat, I realize Jackie did a great job, as always: from the outside looking in, this is a romantic first date.
A far-off thought in my mind recalls an interview where someone asked what my dream date would be, and I said a moonlit walk along the water after a great dinner, and I know that this date is intentional.
The problem is, this isn’t my dream date, not anymore.
These days, my dream date is a day of housework, then being too tired to make dinner, ordering a dozen different chicken nuggets from different fast-food restaurants, eating them in the trunk of my car, and then fucking in the shower.
Or going to a cheesy town fair, riding the Ferris wheel, and winning a silly prize.
It’s going to a local dive bar with all our friends, and just…being.
“Paparazzi to the left,” Chris murmurs, his voice low, breaking into my thoughts.
His hand drops mine and slides along my waist. “Let’s get one more shot, and then we can head to your car.
” I look over and nod, seeing the paparazzi standing near my car.
Gabe is also there, watching like a hawk.
Relief washes over me, knowing the night is almost over.
It’s way more exhausting keeping my act up than I remember.
We agreed this morning that leaving in my car and dropping Chris off at his place would make the most sense and avoid a media-fueled romantic goodbye.
We make our way toward the paparazzi and Gabe, smiling and chatting when I see them: not paparazzi, but a couple of sweet-looking girls, grinning wide and barely containing their excitement.
“This way,” Chris says in a low voice, moving toward the car and the cameras, but I veer to the side.
My name grows louder from the cameras, but I do my best to block it out, smiling at the young girls.
Even though my nerves are on edge and I’m desperate to get some quiet and decompress, I can’t walk past these girls, clearly waiting to see and talk to me.
They’re the reason I’m even where I am, after all, the fans.
Not to mention, the paparazzi always love to capture a fan interaction, so really, it’s two birds with one stone.
“Hey, there,” I saw, turning towards them. One is probably nine, the other eleven, and they have the widest, giddiest smiles spread across their faces.
“Ohmigod,” the older one squeals. Her mother, behind her, has a phone at the ready, recording the interaction with a hesitant grin.
“Mom! She said hi!” the younger one says, looking over her shoulder. Her mother laughs, shakes her head, then looks to me.
“We were out for dinner nearby and walking past when we saw the crowd. They overheard someone mention you might be nearby, so I told them we could wait, but not to expect you to have the time to say hi.”
I nod, understanding, then turn to them. “I always have time for my fans.”
“My sister is your biggest fan,” the younger girl says, clearly the more talkative of the two. “And I’m your second.”
“Is that right?” I ask, and the older one, eyes still wide with shock, nods. I try not to laugh at the adorable look. “What’s your name?”
“Ruby,” she whispers. “Ruby Finch.”
I nod, then turn to her younger sister.
“And I’m Harper,” she says, not even waiting for me to ask, and I let a little laugh out.
“Harper! I have a friend named Harper. She makes dresses,” I say.
“No way!” the girl says, eyes wide, and I nod, then open my mouth to say something more, but I’m stopped by my date.
“We have to go, Willa,” Chris says, putting a hand to my waist. I look up at him with a smile that hides my irritation.
“We’re not in a rush,” I say, trying to keep my voice soft and neutral before turning back to the girls.
“I wish I had something for you to sign,” Ruby says in a still awed whisper. I bite my lip, knowing I don’t have anything in my car, but wanting to surprise these two with something.
“Well, I can fix that,” I say with a grin, digging into my small bag for my phone. Then I open a new note and hand it to the girls’ mom. “Would you be okay with giving me an address to send something to?”
“No way,” the older one says in an awed whisper.
“MOM!” the younger yells, jumping up and down. “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!” Their mom laughs, then nods and takes the phone. I don’t miss how her eyes go wide and watery as she types in the information.
This.
This is my favorite part of my job, behind performing. Being a part of tiny, magical moments like this.
“Can we take a picture?” the older one asks softly, and I nod.
“Of course!” I say, as if that was never even a question, then squat between the two girls and smile at their mom’s phone.
“Okay, now I really do gotta get going, but it was so great to meet you two! Can I give you girls a hug?” They nod enthusiastically, and I watch to make sure their mom nods as well before bending to give each girl a tight hug.
When I back off, Chris is standing beside me, jaw tight, and his hand moves to my elbow, pulling me toward him.
It takes everything in me not to snap at him.
“Are you two together?” Ruby asks, clearly the curious one of the two.
“Ruby!” her mom chides. I laugh, then open my mouth to answer in my normal, vague way, but get interrupted.
“We sure are,” Chris says with a dazzling smile, pulling me into his side. I stumble a bit, and my hand lands on his chest to catch myself. As I do, I notice that the paparazzi have gotten closer, clearly seeing an opportunity.
“Kiss!” one calls, and I roll my eyes, jokingly shaking my head in the negative. But before I can step away toward the car, Chris moves, pulling me in closer, my hand still on his chest as he drops his face to mine.
My entire body stills.
I try not to give in to the urge to push him away and do it hard, instead forcing myself to do what I’ve always been good at: acting.
I let Chris kiss me, a soft, delicate touch of lips, almost sweet and considerate. It’s the kind of kiss that, at a different time, when we hadn’t just agreed not to do this tonight, I would have been fine with.
But it’s not that.
So instead, fury bubbles in my veins, and with the crowd watching, cheering, and awing, I’m fighting everything in me not to flip out on him.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity but is probably closer to a few seconds, Chris pulls back, giving me a wide, satisfied grin. I force myself to reflect on it, reminding myself that I am supposed to be into this, before turning back to the two little girls.
“Okay, well, it was nice meeting you girls,” I say through a tight jaw.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” They squeal and say goodbyes, and their mother mouths a heartfelt thank you, before Chris and I stiffly make our way to my car.
Gabe opens the door, and I slide in, taking deep breaths to center myself.
“What was that?” I snap as Chris closes the door behind himself. He took an extra minute, waving at the additional fans who began to gather—my fans, I should add—before coming in, and it’s only given me more time to stew on my anger.
“What was what?” He has a shit-eating grin on his lips, the cocky boyish look I’m sure gets him everything and anything he’s ever wanted and out of trouble more than a couple times over his career.
Unfortunately for him, I am immune to it.
“That kiss?” I say, voice cracking in the small vehicle. “What the fuck was that kiss?”
“Playing it up for the cameras.” My jaw tightens, and I’ve never in my life wanted to hit someone, but right now, my fingers itch to slap that annoying smile off his face.
“I said I didn’t want to kiss tonight, for the cameras or otherwise,” I remind him, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“I did what I had to do to give the people what they wanted. In that moment, what you wanted didn’t matter.”
Horror rolls through me at his words.
“Excuse me?”
He shrugs as if this entire exchange isn’t unhinged.
“You’re like me: you’ll do what needs to be done for the press.”
I force myself to take in deep breaths, and as I do, I remind myself why I’m here.
The marketing plan that Jackie has put a lot of work into.
The contract’s already in place.
He could out all of my previous fake relationships if this falls apart.
Leo’s career very well could hinge on this, what with Jefferson just looking for a reason to fire him.
And just as Leo would never do anything to get between me and my career, I have to make sure I do the same for him. I can’t let my own discomfort, the same discomfort I’ve tackled time and time again over the years, be the reason Leo loses everything he’s built.
“Never do that again. Ever. If I explicity say no kissing, no touching, anything, you will respect my wishes.” Despite my focus being solely on the obnoxious man before me, from the corner of my eye, Gabe stiffens as if he’s understanding what is happening.
I know if I wanted him to, he would step in, but I’ve got this handled.
“Oh, come on, it was a good kiss,” he says, trying to make light of it and giving me what I assume is meant to be a swoony look.
“I am not an idiot you need to seduce, Chris. I am your colleague, that is all. We have a purely business partnership, but if you want to continue this, you absolutely have to respect my wishes,” I say, my voice firm.
“You do not kiss me when I specifically told you not to.
That violates my consent, my safety, and my personal space. “
“Jackie told me I was to kiss you if given the opportunity,” he says.
“Then fucking kiss Jackie. I am not Jackie. And while we’re at it, you do not rush me when I am interacting with fans.
Ever.” A moment passes, and we stare at one another, and the look on his face changes in an instant, the charm turning off instantly.
It makes a shiver run down my spine, and not the good kind Leo gives me.
“What are you going to do?” he says. “You’re as locked into this as I am.”
And whether I like it or not, he’s not completely wrong. For the first time in a long time, I feel trapped, and he must recognize it, because his lips tip up, that cruel smile growing more confident.
And in that moment, I know the next six months are going to be longer than I ever expected.