18. Ashton #2
“Have you ever thought you’re the one who makes the role successful? It’s not about how good the role is, but how well you play it? Even if you don’t get an ideal character or script, you’ll still stand out. Just like you did on Malibu Shores .”
“Yeah, for my shirtless torso.”
Heat crawls across my face. “That too.” A smile tips my lips. “But I’m saying, you .” I tap his chest with my finger. “Even if you’re not the lead in a film, they’ll come to watch you. I certainly will.”
“Really?” His voice is quiet.
“Yes. Really. Griffin, it’s not about what character you play.
It’s who you are as a person. That’s what truly matters.
Your fans love you, not for your roles, but because you’re you .
Anyone who knows you personally will attest to this.
” My hand rests near his on the couch cushion, my fingers aching to reach for his.
His hand inches forward, a whispering touch on mine. “Thank you for that.”
I lick my lips. “You’re welcome.”
He drops his arm from the couch and exhales a heavy sigh. “I know my dad wants what’s best for me. But sometimes it feels like he’s using me to fulfill his own dream career.”
“I get that.”
His words cut straight to my core and peel away layers I’ve long since buried.
Mom grew up dirt poor. She did virtually anything to gain wealth—including marrying a man almost twice her age.
After he died, she used his remaining funds to gain fame and to secure a reality TV show, using her children as pawns.
“What about you, any siblings?”
I adjust my position. The pain in my ankle has decreased slightly, but it still pulsates with a throbbing heat. “Yeah, a sister.”
“Older or younger?”
“Older.”
“I would have loved a sibling growing up. Maybe it would have made acting—all the traveling, the private tutoring—less lonely.” He begins shutting the to-go boxes one by one.
“I guess that’s why Luke is like my brother.
We didn’t see each other all the time, but he was the closest thing I had to it. ”
“That’s nice.”
He stacks the boxes on top of one another, carries them into the kitchen, and places them in the fridge. “What’s your sister like? Were you two close growing up?”
I think about us as kids…before everything went sideways. Before my mom’s success and her reality TV show. Before I truly became an outcast in my own family. We were friends. Playmates. For hours we’d play in the backyard, digging in our pretend garden and creating fairy houses.
“We were close in our younger years, but not so much as teens. We had different interests.” Hers was to make my mom happy, and mine was not. It makes her recent transformation all that much more surprising.
He returns from the fridge, holding an ice pack aloft. “You’re probably due for another round of this. Is this the same sister you didn’t want me to meet at the shelter? You know, the one you shoved me in a closet for?”
I bite my lower lip. “Yeah, again, sorry about that.”
He perches on the edge of the couch, holding my gaze. “I would’ve minded less if you had joined me.” He smirks.
I swat his chest. “Whatever.”
Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend.
“Care to explain more about that day?”
“It’s complicated.”
He looks at his empty forearm. “Looks like I have the time for it.”
“You don’t need to know about all my family drama tonight.”
He raises his eyebrows, and blinks, indicating his interest.
“Ugh. Okay. Fine.” Here goes nothing… “I was on a reality TV show called Being the Blakes for over five years.” I grab a throw pillow and cover my face.
I can’t believe I just told him one of the biggest secrets I’ve kept from nearly everyone—even Marissa.
“Wait. What?” His tone is soft, slightly baffled. He’s quiet for a minute. “Hold on, you’re one of the Blakes?”
I mumble through the pillow, “Uh huh.”
He gently pries the pillow from my face. “As in, you’re a daughter of the Edward Blake, the business mogul and millionaire?”
“Yes, but I’m not a millionaire. My mom is. Maybe my sister. I don’t know.” I trail off, thinking how many more discussions I need to have with my sister.
“I’m confused.”
I hug the pillow. “My mom inherited my father’s money. Not us. At least, not me. I left my family just before turning eighteen and emancipated myself, changed my last name, and got a new life.”
He slumps back slightly.
“Ow!” I jolt, adjusting my leg before he accidentally leans on it further.
“I’m so sorry. I forgot I was even holding this. Here, may I?” He gestures to my ankle.
“Sure.” I try to keep my face neutral, pretending the intimacy of his contact doesn’t affect me. It’s purely clinical.
He lifts my leg, slow and gentle, and wraps the ice pack around my ankle. His tenderness makes me want to cry.
He watches my expression, judging for any pain. “How’s that? Better?”
“Mm-hmm. Thanks.”
“Is that why you’re afraid of paparazzi? The tabloids? You don’t want to be recognized?”
I nod.
“And why you were hesitant to start a social media account?”
“Yes.”
He tilts his head. “I’m sorry. I never meant to push you.”
I rest my hand on his on the couch. “You didn’t. I want to do this. You’re right. I need to do more if I’m ever going to get this rescue off the ground. It’s time to stop hiding. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” My voice wobbles, and I remove my hand from his.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. You’re an impressive woman with a special talent. The world deserves to see it.” His voice is gentle, his eyes soft.
My cheeks heat. “Thank you.” I tell myself not to read into the compliment too much, considering I just met his girlfriend. This is strictly a professional relationship.
He holds my gaze for a moment, blinking a few times before smacking his thighs and standing. “How about a movie?”
“I’m pretty sure if I watch a movie, I’ll fall asleep on your couch.”
He smiles. “That’s fine by me.”
“What about taking me to a hotel?”
He looks pointedly at my ankle. “I think it’s fair to say you’re not in the best condition to get around a hotel on your own.”
I bite my lip, unwilling to agree with him but knowing he’s probably right.
“I think you should stay here.”
“Stay…as in, stay …here?”
He chuckles, his blue eyes twinkling even in the dim light from the kitchen. “Yes. Stay. For tonight...or however long you need, until you can get a new place to live. But for now, we can see how you feel in the morning. If the pain is still bad, I’ll take you to the doctor and get it x-rayed.”
I refuse to consider his offer of staying here for more than one night. One is all I need. I’ll get my bearings tomorrow and formulate a game plan. Even still, I don’t know how to repay…how to react to his kindness. “I could never repay you for this. It’s too much.”
“Add it to my tab.” He winks. “Besides, this is what friends are for.”
I look away. I haven’t had a friend in a long time. Not really. Even my friends in my teens were never truly my friends…people only got close to me for the added benefit of being seen on my family’s reality TV show.
My voice is quiet, timid. “If you’re sure it’s not too much of an imposition?”
“Nah. It’s not a problem.”
To him, it probably isn’t a big deal. He has the space, the time, the resources. And besides, we’re just friends.
Right?