Chapter 17
seventeen
TWO MONTHS LATER
Pans clang in Logan’s kitchen as he cooks breakfast. I arrived back in Lakeside yesterday afternoon.
Didn’t think two months away would’ve been as hard as it was, but the whole time I was gone I couldn’t stop thinking about Lizzy.
Every thought, every dream, every damn moment she kept popping into my head.
The memory of her reaction to seeing me at Jax’s party has been haunting me, and I’ve been powerless to exorcise her from my mind ever since.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Logan says, sliding a plate piled high with bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast across the counter. “Made enough to feed half the fire department.”
“Thanks, man,” I nod, grabbing a fork. “Smells amazing.”
Grabbing his own plate, Logan sits down next to me and dives into his food as if he hasn’t eaten in days. It makes me grin into my cheesy scrambled eggs. Some things never change.
“So,” he says between bites, “I’ve got some good news.”
Mouth full of bacon, I look up, popping an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Remember how you said you needed a place to stay during filming?” He takes a swig of orange juice. “Well, I talked to Ryder.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. “Ryder? Is that the same guy who owns the tattoo shop?”
“Yup. He also owns the building where Skin my words hollow even to my own ears.
The look Logan is giving me tells me he’s not buying it. “Right. Is that why she bolted the second she saw you at the party? And why you moped around like a lovesick teenager afterward? Because nothing happened?”
“I didn’t mope,” I protest, though we both know it’s bullshit.
“Whatever you say.” He shrugs, shoveling a forkful of hash browns into his face. “Anyway, Ryder’s expecting us at noon to sign the paperwork and pick up the keys. Unless you’d rather stay in a shitty motel forty minutes outside of town?”
Fuck. He’s got me there. Despite my Hollywood status, the production company’s budget doesn’t include a fancy rental—not that there is one available anyway—and I definitely don’t want to be driving back and forth from some dive motel every day.
The shooting schedule is going to be grueling enough as it is.
“Fine,” I grumble, stabbing at my food with more force than necessary. “But if I run into her and she tries to murder me, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
Logan chuckles. “She’s not going to murder you. Maim, maybe. But not murder.”
“Thanks. I feel so much better now.”
My jerk of a best friend just laughs.
After breakfast, I help clean up, then head to the bathroom to take a shower.
As I stand under the hot spray, I try not to think about the fact that in a few hours, I’ll be signing a lease for an apartment directly above where Lizzy works.
Every day, I’ll have to walk past the shop, knowing she’s right there—so close, yet so far away.
Jesus. That’s about as cliché as it gets.
“You’ve really stepped in it this time,” I mutter as I towel off.
By the time we pull up outside Skin & Ink, my stomach is in knots.
The tattoo shop is housed in a two-story, renovated brick building with large windows across the front. Through the shops window I can see a few people moving around inside.
Jax is sitting on one of the leather couches in what looks like their waiting area, sketching, and a woman with shoulder-length purple hair is talking to a client at the front desk.
When my gaze shifts to another heavily tattooed man, Ryder looks up and jerks his chin at us in greeting through the glass.
The shop smells of antiseptic and ink, with faint traces of essential oils, while an indie rock song I don’t recognize thumps subtly through the mostly open space.
“Hey,” Ryder grins as he approaches, offering his hand. “Good to see you again.”
“You too,” I reply, taking in the impressive artwork covering the walls. The place is clean, professional, and surprisingly upscale for a small-town tattoo parlor. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” Pride flashes across his face. “Jax and I built it from nothing a little over ten years ago. Now we’re booked out a year in advance.”
Logan claps me on the shoulder. “Told you this place was legit.”
“Ready to check out the apartment?” Ryder reaches under the counter and pulls out a set of keys.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
He leads us through the shop to a door at the back that opens onto a small courtyard. A metal staircase zigzags up the side of the building to a landing with a sturdy-looking door.
“Private entrance,” Ryder explains as we climb the stairs. “No one will bother you here. You can come and go without having to walk through the shop. Though there is a private entrance in the shop as well. With your celebrity status, you’re welcome to use it if you ever feel the need.”
He unlocks the door and pushes it open, stepping aside to let us enter. As we head down a hallway, we pass another door, which I assume is probably another apartment.
When we reach a large door at the end of the hall, which is only about ten steps away from my potential new neighbor, Ryder unlocks it and heads inside.
The apartment is stunning—all exposed brick and massive windows, with high ceilings and original hardwood floors.
Industrial-style pendant lights hang over a kitchen island that separates the cooking area from the spacious living room with its shelves full of books and comfy-looking leather couch. A massive TV hangs on the far wall.
“Holy shit,” I murmur, taking it all in. “This is amazing.”
“Thanks,” Ryder grins. “Designed it myself.”
I walk over to one of the windows that overlooks Main Street. I can just make out the sparkling water of the lake in the distance. “Seriously, man. This is perfect.”
“Bathroom’s right through there,” he says, pointing to a door on the other side of the room. “Full shower and a soaker tub. Staked washer and dryer in the closet by the kitchen. Bedroom is this way.”
I follow him into the bedroom. A king-sized bed sits against a brick wall on top of a large area rug, with a closet along the wall on the other side of the room.
As I wander around, checking out the space, I can already picture myself living here. It’s exactly what I need—private but central, with enough space to spread out my notes and storyboards.
“What do you think?” Logan asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“I’ll take it,” I reply with a grin, turning to glance at Ryder. “How much?”
We discuss the terms—monthly rent, security deposit, utility arrangements. The price is more than fair, especially for a place this nice in a prime location.
“One more thing,” Ryder says as I’m signing the lease. “The walls are pretty thick, but sound can still carry. Just something to keep in mind.”
I nod. “Not a problem. I’m pretty quiet.”
“Cool,” he says, handing me a set of keys. “But it’s your neighbor I’m a little worried about. They like to play their music loud sometimes. Let me know if it gets to be too much and I’ll take care of it.”
He exchanges a weird look with Logan. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it.” Just as he reaches the front door, he stops and looks back. “A bunch of us are meeting at The Brew tonight. You guys are welcome to join us.”
Logan grins. “Sounds great. See you later, Rye.”
Ryder nods and heads out, closing the door behind him.
I move back over to the window, taking in the view. “This is great,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at my best friend. “Thanks for setting this up.”
“No problem.” He drops onto the leather couch, stretching his arms across the back. “So... how’s the ‘image cleanup’ coming along? Find anyone yet?”
I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s not. Hank’s been blowing up my phone daily asking if I’ve found someone.”
“I take it you haven’t?”
“Nope.” I start pacing the hardwood floor. “Studio execs are serious about this. They want me to be seen around town with someone. A local girl, preferably.”
Logan snorts. “Good luck with that.”
“Actually...” I hesitate, then decide to just rip off the Band-Aid. “I was thinking maybe I could ask Lizzy.”
A deafening silence follows before Logan bursts into laughter, nearly falling off the couch.
“You... Are you serious?” he gasps between fits of laughter, wiping tears from his eyes.
“What the hell is so funny about that?” I demand, my neck flushing in mortification.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he wheezes. “Maybe the fact that my sister can barely stand to be in the same room as you? Or that she literally ran away the last time she saw you?”
“It wouldn’t be real,” I argue, sinking onto a barstool. “Just for show. A few public appearances, some pictures for social media. That’s it.”
“Dude.” Finally composed, Logan straightens. “No offense, but you’ve got a better chance of winning an Oscar for a movie you haven’t even made yet than getting Lizzy to agree to fake-date you.”
“Come on, it’s not that far-fetched.”
“Trust me, it is.” He shakes his head, still grinning. “Besides, there’s something you should know.”
“What?”
“Lizzy lives next door. In the loft across the hall.”
I freeze. “What do you mean, next door?”
“I mean,” Logan says slowly, “that my sister’s apartment door is literally the one we walked by to get here.”
My stomach drops. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“Nope,” he quips, looking way too amused for my liking. “Ryder renovated the top floor into two lofts. Lizzy’s been living there for almost three years.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this before I signed the lease?” I stand up, pacing again. “Fuck’s sake, Logan.”
“Look. I told you I want you two to make up. Actually, I need you to patch things up. You were thick as thieves when we were kids.”
Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and gives me a pointed stare. “Maybe this whole ‘convince Lizzy to be your fake girlfriend’ thing isn’t such a bad idea after all. You know. Use it to your advantage.” He shrugs. “I can help.”
My heart leaps in shock. “You’d do that?”
“Sure.”
“In high school you warned me away from her. Now you want to help me convince her to be my fake girlfriend?”
“Yeah, well, we’re not teenagers anymore. Besides, I’ve spent years navigating between the both of you avoiding each other at whatever the cost. It’s exhausting. But if things go sideways and she gets hurt, I’ll kick your ass.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “So you’ll help me convince your sister—who, according to you, can barely stand to be in the same room as me—to pretend to be my girlfriend?”
“I didn’t say it would be easy,” he chuckles, pulling out his phone and checking the time. “But yeah, I’ll help. Plus, I’ve been thinking... maybe there’s more to the story than what either of you have been letting on.”
My heart skips. “What did she say?”
“That you were each other’s first kiss when you were kids. And how you two kissed at prom.” He gives me a pointed look. “But something tells me there’s a lot more to it.”
Guilt slams into me, but I manage to keep my expression neutral.
“You know...” He rises from the couch. “I’ve always felt like there was something she wasn’t telling me. She was sad when you left after graduation. Quiet. Kept more to herself that summer before she left for college. I regret not telling her you were leaving, by the way.”
I swallow hard, avoiding his gaze as I pace the room. “I’m sorry I asked you to do that.”
“Can’t change the past.” He narrows his gaze. “You sure you don’t have anything to tell me?”
Hoping to evade the question, I say, “She’s probably just upset about me ghosting her a second time.”
“Maybe.” His tone tells me he’s not convinced. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. My shift starts in a couple of hours, and I need to stop by the gym first. Your rental car is getting dropped off soon, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, still trying to process everything that’s gone down over the last few minutes. Lizzy lives next door. My Sunshine girl is going to be right across the hall from me.
But she’s not mine. Not anymore.
Logan grabs his keys from the counter. “I’ll text you later. Maybe we can stop by The Brew tonight.”
After he leaves, I stand in the middle of the apartment in a daze. What are the odds this is where I’d end up? It’s like the universe is playing some sick cosmic joke.
I unpack my bags, hang my clothes in the closet and set up my laptop on the kitchen island. The whole time, I’m hyper-aware of the fact that Lizzy could be just a few feet away right now. Is she home? Is she at work? Does she know I’m moving in?
After I’m settled, I get a notification that my rental car has arrived. I grab my camera and notebook. Might as well use the day to scout more locations while I have the time. The crew arrives tomorrow, and things will get hectic fast.
Just as I’m about to head out, I hear a door open and close outside.
My heart stops.
Is that her?
Curiosity getting the better of me, I cross the room in three quick strides, and yank open the front door.