Chapter 16 Chloe’s ‘90s Hits, Now Playing #2
While my cheeks are still aching from smiling, my expression has fallen into something more serious, and I feel my brows knit together as I work to reset the lav mic, fiddling with distracted fingers for far too long.
I gather enough courage to steal a glance up at him and find that he has a look of genuine curiosity on his face as our eyes meet.
Nolan’s hand, still dusty with flour, brushes mine, and he gently tugs my fingers away from his collar, concern etched between his brows.
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, brushing a curl away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. One hand rests gently at the nape of my neck, his other on my shoulder.
Never in my life have I been wooed like this. Actually—come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever truly been wooed before.
Did this man just step out of a ’90s rom-com?
So, obviously I lean forward, inching myself closer to his body, to the warmth and solidness of his broad chest. Because who wouldn’t, in this scenario?
“Nothing’s wrong,” I reply breathlessly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Then how come you’re more interested in fixing that mic than you are in kissing me?” His voice is rough as he tries to keep it steady, and I get the sense he’s holding back. My pulse hammers in my ears.
“Well, aren’t you presumptuous?” is all I can manage, as the nervous energy buzzing through my body makes the routine exchange of thoughts into words a challenge.
“That I am.” The smile on his face is wicked, and the corner of my mouth curls up at his response. “But it’s all I’ve thought about ever since you screamed at that poor Italian forklift driver.”
“If you’ve wanted to kiss me for that long, why haven’t you done something about it?”
And for a moment, I think that he’s going to. Tension crackles between us, as if lightning is about to strike the very spot where we stand.
But before Nolan can reply, a coy feminine voice from behind me shatters the silence, and my stomach drops like a fucking anchor.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Molly.
I whirl around to see her leaning against a stainless-steel counter, her short black dress hiked up higher than I’d like to see, and a pair of red heels dangling from her fingertips. A male PA stands beside her, looking miserable and holding a plate of food.
“You aren’t supposed to be out of your room,” I say, my tone hostile.
I eye the PA and decide now is an appropriate scenario for me to pull rank.
Mostly because it’s my job…but also because I want to get back to what I had been doing before this disaster in heels walked in.
“Thomas—it’s Thomas, right? Why is this contestant out of her room? ”
“Uh, the ship doctor said to get her fed. She drank too much after the elimination ceremony.”
“So, she’s got her plate of food. What are you still doing here?” I look expectantly between the two of them, fully aware of my tone. Molly has hopped up on the counter, a haughty look on her face as she eyes Nolan up and down.
I want to claw her eyes out.
“Glen also told me to find someone to film her bringing her food back to the room. I guess Duncan plans to intercept her, and Glen wants to get it on tape.”
“Well, I don’t have my camera on me,” I lie, subtly trying to block out the giant tripod and Sony XDCAM standing like a damn monument behind me—and not an easy one to miss. “I mean, I do, but I’m busy filming other stuff.”
“Oh, yeah? What stuff?” Molly asks. She slurs her words just enough for me to know she’s been drinking, but I don’t miss the challenge in them.
“It’s none of your goddamn business,” I hiss. Nolan gently touches the small of my back, and I try to rein in my rage. “Anyway, I’m just a B-cam. I don’t do contestants unless I’m given permission. So, you’ll have to talk to Glen or Demi. Where is your producer, anyway, Molly?”
“Oh my God, Chloe, get a grip. How should I know? She doesn’t even give a shit about me.”
I snort. She’s half-right.
Demi cares about what happens to Molly, but only because it’s tied to her own reputation and performance. That’s it. She doesn’t care about Molly’s feelings, and it’s becoming clearer by the day that Demi doesn’t just dislike Molly; she loathes her.
Not that I blame her.
“Chloe, can you just—” Thomas pipes up haltingly, his eyes pleading. “Please, can you just help me?”
I’m so angry I could scream. I desperately want to get back to what Nolan and I were doing—or, about to do—but the despondent look Thomas gives me hits me square in my stupid bleeding heart.
It’s the same look Sora had on her face when she was floundering in the hotel lobby.
And the same look I’ve seen on the faces of countless other PAs and camera assistants this week.
It’s the look of total desperation.
I sigh defeatedly. “Alright, Thomas. Let me pack up here.”
“Are you serious? Oh, thank you, Chloe! I really didn’t want to wake up one of the guys.”
“Mhmm. I’ll meet you in the hall in a few.”
Pure relief washes over his face, and he shoos Molly toward the door as she shoots him an icy glare.
“Don’t touch me, Tristan.”
“It’s Thomas. Chloe literally just said my name!” he hisses under his breath.
Before Thomas can get her out the door, though, Molly turns on her heel—stumbling slightly—and points one perfectly manicured finger my way.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re fucking ship staff.” Molly’s harsh words hit me like daggers, and an ache blooms in my chest. “I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules, last I checked.”
Her venom retreats just as quickly as it appeared and a too-sweet smile spreads wickedly across Molly’s face. She blows Nolan an exaggerated kiss.
“Nighty-night!”
Molly whirls around, this time with better balance, and stalks from the room, her floral perfume still clinging to the air even after she’s gone.
My stomach sinks. I hadn’t been worried about this thing with Nolan and I before tonight. But now that Molly knows? I’m dead in the water, unless I can convince her to keep tight-lipped.
She had been wrong about one thing, though: There aren’t any actual rules against Love and Gemstone crew members fraternizing…but only because there isn’t exactly a rule book.
It’s more like an unwritten rule of the industry, that giving anyone senior to you a reason to think you’re distracted is not ideal if you want to maintain a good reputation.
I’d have to figure out a solution to this little problem sooner rather than later, especially given how angry Molly looked when she spat the words at me.
“I’m really sorry about that,” I apologize, turning back to Nolan. His warm eyes find mine, and he’s got one brow arched, his mouth twisted in an amused smirk.
“What?”
“That was…something.”
“That was Molly,” I explain with a deep sigh. “She’s a long story.”
“Okay. But tell me another day—it’s getting late.”
A slight twinge of disappointment gnaws at me, knowing that the heated tension that had been there before is probably gone for now.
“I gotta say, though…you’re cute when you’re frustrated, you know that?” Nolan adds, as he unclips the lav mic on his jacket and pulls the wire out from his shirt. He hands it to me casually, as if he didn’t just call my attempt at appearing assertive and stern…cute.
“Are you sure cute is the term you’re looking for?” I grumble.
“What term would you use?”
“Maybe fearsome, or unnerving?”
“Nah.”
“Aggressive? Mean?”
He cocks his head thoughtfully. “Maybe a little mean? Mostly just rude. But in, like, a cute way.”
The wicked smile Nolan gives me as we bicker playfully makes my skin prickle, and I can’t help but wonder how things might have unfolded if Molly hadn’t shown up.
It occurs to me that we’re both thinking the same thing, because he’s suddenly inching closer until his legs firmly cage mine.
The cool steel of the prep counter nudging into my lower back is a stark contrast to the warmth of his body pressing against mine.
My pulse is thrumming loud in my ears again, and as I tilt my chin up to look at him, I know now—for sure—that he’s going to kiss me.
I know it from the way his gaze darkens and dips to my mouth. How his hands skate along my skin to rest gently on my hips.
He pulls me in closer until we’re perfectly flush, and my mind goes still and quiet. Nolan leans his head in close, the warmth of his breath fanning across my cheek as he whispers next to my ear, “Can I kiss you now?”
His words reverberate in my chest, lighting up every nerve like fireflies dancing in twilight, and I shiver.
Suddenly, because I have quite possibly the worst luck in the world, the muffled sound of plates crashing in the hallway alerts us to what I can only assume is yet another deliberate interruption from Molly. Our bodies startle apart.
I grasp the counter shakily, and Nolan swears, looking between the door to the hallway and me, clearly acknowledging what he wants now, but also how much worse things could get out there with Molly and her PA left unsupervised.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he lets out a disgruntled huff.
“I should probably go deal with that, shouldn’t I?” he says. There’s a conflicted look on his face, like he’s torn between what he should do and what he desperately wants to do.
“It’s a little bit like leaving a reactive dog in an enclosed space. She might just keep wrecking things,” I say with a cringe, just as another plate smashes to the ground in the hall.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Nolan heaves a deep sigh, looking genuinely dismayed and more than a little annoyed. He gives me a quick squeeze of my hand and then stalks off, shouting something about how they better not have smashed the good plates.
For someone who I thought was the epitome of sunshine, this is a new side to Nolan.
And to be honest? I don’t hate it.
While I’m equally as frustrated about the interruption as it seems he is, I’m also slightly amused by his newfound exasperation. Before tonight, I had clocked Nolan as, well—sort of like a chocolate croissant. Sweet. Comforting. Indulgent.
But maybe there’s more spice to him than I thought.