Chapter 12
Beckham
My chest is tight, and there’s a buzzing on my skin I can’t seem to get rid of. It’s like I can physically feel the stares and whispers of the people on set.
They think they’re being subtle.
They’re not.
I’ve developed a pretty good radar for this kind of thing.
Nowadays, eyes and whispers always seem to follow me, even if I’m hiding in a dark, shadowy corner like I am now.
Honestly, the looks and comments feel more intense when I’m trying to hide. Maybe because they feel less invasive when I’m under the spotlight. Because at least then I consent to being seen.
My mind is reeling after that kiss with Eli.
I wonder what Andi is saying to him.
Not knowing is making the churning in my gut worse.
“Ah, there you are,” Stephan, the creepy photographer, says, materializing next to me. His nose twitches and his lips turn down in something that looks awfully close to a grimace.
Is it my scent? Shit, it’s pretty strong right now. I need to calm down.
I jolt a little before directing my attention to him. Andi’s manager, Stuart, stands beside him.
I don’t think I’ve ever been as acutely aware of the fact that I’m shirtless as I am now. Their gazes feel... strange. Almost proprietary.
How does Andi do this sort of thing regularly?
“Hi,” I say to fill the awkward silence, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Hi,” Stephan says with a tight smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I understand that you’re new to the industry. You’ve had quite the meteoric rise, young man, but those sorts of tantrums aren’t something you want to build a reputation for.”
Stuart’s hands are clasped in front of him as he nods gravely. They’re so serious, it almost feels like they’re formally reprimanding me. Like they’re my bosses, writing me up for constantly being tardy.
“Oh, sorry about that,” I say with a shake of my head.
Maybe they’re right. I shouldn’t have just gotten up like that, especially because I just left Andi sprawled out on the floor.
My chin drops to my chest when I remember the look of betrayal in her expression. I was torn between two people who needed me, and I can’t help but feel like I chose wrong.
This whole situation is my fault.
“I know having someone like Andromeda around can make that sort of behavior seem reasonable, you know how omegas can be, but I have higher hopes for you.”
Stephan’s words make my head jerk up to meet his gaze.
Did I hear him wrong?
Andi didn’t do anything wrong. Why is he bringing her up like that? I was the one to fuck up the shoot.
Also, what the hell does he mean by you know how omegas can be. I’m a goddamn omega too.
“Ex—excuse me?” I stutter, shaking my head in disbelief.
“Andromeda has always been... strong-headed,” Stuart says, inserting himself into the conversation with a shake of his head. “It’s unfortunate. We all just want what’s best for her.”
My bullshit meter starts to go off.
This isn’t right.
Andi is awesome. They’re making it seem like she’s a bitch that’s hard to work with. Nothing I’ve seen from her has given me that sort of indication. The most attitude she showed was when they made her strip in front of a room full of people.
And even then, she still did it.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I say, pushing back.
Stuart takes my arm, pulling me away from the photographer, who watches our interaction with hawkish eyes. I wrench my arm out of his hold, which is surprisingly tight.
“What the hell? Don’t touch me!” I hiss.
“That’s an excellent act,” Stuart says, his voice pitched so low only I can hear him. “But you can tone it down a little. No one will believe that you, of all people, are that into Andromeda.”
I seriously feel like I’m in an alternate universe. What the hell are these people talking about?
It’s like they’re living in a completely different reality. A reality where Andi is the exact opposite of who Andi’s shown herself to be.
Even when she was humiliated in front of the entire set, I was the one to storm off and ruin the shoot, not her.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I bite back.
Stuart’s beady eyes narrow on me, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. How the hell does Andi put up with this guy?
He opens his mouth, probably to say something ridiculous again, but I’m saved by a much softer hand on my arm.
Chamomile.
Soft and soothing, even past the de-scenter they sprayed us with.
“Andi,” I sigh, turning to her and flashing her a relieved smile.
“Hey,” she says, tugging me away, far gentler than her manager did.
“I was talking to him,” Stuart calls.
“Yeah, well, not anymore!” she says, not even bothering to give him or the photographer a second glance.
Maybe this is why they seem to have it out for her.
But still, I can’t help but break out into a relieved smile as she guides me down another hallway, away from the main set.
I’m struck speechless, smiling at her like a dumbass. The only saving grace I have is that her eyes are locked forward to whatever final destination she wants to take me to.
“Thank you for saving me,” I murmur, relief washing over me now that there are fewer eyes on me.
“You shouldn’t be alone with him,” Andi says before pushing open the door to the dressing room with her hip. “Hi, could we have the room, please?”
Her expression softens when she’s talking to the beta stylists. She even offers them a small smile. This is why I didn’t understand Stuart and the creepy photographer when they kept shitting on Andi.
She’s a good person.
They made her seem like she was ridiculously difficult to deal with.
The moment the door clicks shut behind the two stylists and Andi turns to look at me, my heart falls through the floor.
“I—I’m so sorry about earlier. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.” I rub my clammy hands on my jeans. “I feel so bad, I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have—”
Wow, I’m really freaking out right now.
This is when I hate my designation. I feel so fucking out of control of my own emotions. It’s like all my higher brain functions are being overwritten by this twisted version of myself. A version of myself that’s needy and fucking pathetic.
My burnt caramel scent turns bitter with emotion. I can practically taste it at the back of my throat. I don’t know how Andi is able to control her perfume so well.
“Hey,” she murmurs softly, reaching for my hand and giving it a tight squeeze. “Breathe.”
I’m struck by how similar this moment is to the one I shared with Eli earlier.
It’s nice being comforted. Don’t get me wrong, I love being the one to offer comfort, but there’s something so calming and steady about Andi’s presence.
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head and taking an unsteady breath.
“It’s okay,” she murmurs, squeezing my hand again. “Nothing to apologize for.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, closing the distance between us. We’re so close that if either of us breathes too hard, our chests will touch.
It reminds me of the feel of her tits pressed up against me earlier. God, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.
If her scent hadn’t been bitter and twisted in the moment and stressed about what Eli would think, I don’t know how I would’ve been able to prevent a boner.
“Tell me, have you ever taken any of the classes at any of the Omega Centers? The OCN offers free classes—well, not that you’d need free classes since your career has gone crazy.” She shakes her head, an adorable noise of flustered frustration leaving her lips. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”
“No, I got what you meant.” I reach up with my free hand, massaging some of the tension out of my neck.
“I haven’t. I was a late bloomer, so I didn’t take them in high school or anything, and I didn’t go into pre-awakening.
So it was kinda just like, one day I was a beta, the next an omega. And then after that...”
“Your life blew up,” she says, nodding in understanding. “Your social calendar must’ve been packed, especially after you signed with your label.”
“Yeah, it’s been a lot,” I say, letting out a soft huff of laughter.
“Well, I think it’d be useful to try going. They’ve got some classes on emotional regulation, which should help you with your scent and stuff like that. Seems like the de-scenters they use aren’t as effective on you.”
“Really?” I ask, lifting up my arm and sniffing myself.
She lets out a small wince before shrugging.
“Yeah, and that’s okay. A lot of omegas don’t go a day touching any de-scenter, especially if they bond early.”
“But they’ve taken these... classes.”
“Mhmmm,” she hums, giving my hand one final squeeze before dropping it and grabbing a mist bottle of de-scenter on the table.
I feel the loss of her touch immediately. It takes all the willpower I have not to reach for her and bury my face in her neck to soak in her soothing chamomile scent.
“Here, I think you should use this,” she murmurs softly, handing me the bottle. “This set... I don’t think it’s the safest place to be telegraphing all of your emotions.”
“I don’t think it’s the safest place, period,” I huff, taking the mist bottle and spraying myself liberally with it.
“You’d be right about that. I’m sorry this has to be your introduction to this world.”
“I’m sorry you have to go through this kinda stuff all the time. It’s like it’s not even phasing you.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s phasing me,” she says, staring off into the distance, her expression profoundly... sad. It breaks my heart.
“You’re doing a fantastic job holding yourself together. I’d probably be... crying or freaking out or something, if I were in your shoes.” I wince, tucking my hands nervously into my back pockets. “Shit, that wasn’t a very manly thing to say.”
“Who gives a shit about what’s manly and not manly?” she says, waving away my apology. “This kind of life... being constantly watched and scrutinized. It’s not normal. It’s okay to have feelings about it.”
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a deep exhale.
“Want a hug? Sometimes—”
Before she even has a chance to finish her sentence, I’m pulling her into my arms. I’m not particularly tall. Around average height, for a guy, maybe. I haven’t met a lot of male omegas to compare.
But compared to Andi? I can still rest my chin on the top of her head.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice tight.
She tentatively wraps her arms around my waist, her fingers splaying across the bare skin of my back.
“Of course. Everyone needs a good hug now and then.”
We stand there, holding each other for a long time. I don’t know whether it’s because the calming effect of being around her stretches time or because we genuinely both needed a long hug, but I’m not complaining either way.
“We should go,” she murmurs. “Wouldn’t want to hold up the shoot anymore.”
“Okay,” I nod, glancing at myself in the mirror and making sure everything looks like it’s in place. When I determine that I’m far more put together than I feel, the two of us step out of the dressing room.
I instantly clock one of the people working on the set who has their phone camera held up, snapping photos or a video of the two of us leaving the dressing room.
Andi just glances back at me, her hair flicking over her shoulder in a wave of expertly done barrel curls. Her smile completely transforms her face.
And she’s smiling at me.
“Don’t worry,” she murmurs.
Her smile is infectious. I know it’d be a terrible thing to say to her, but I truly do wish I had the opportunity to see her smile more.
“Okay,” I say, reaching out and lacing our hands together.
She offers me a subtle squeeze before leading us back to the main set.
The moment Leo catches sight of us, he’s headed in our direction.
“Do you guys want to stop the shoot?” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on Andi.
Oh, well, that’s certainly interesting.
“Yes,” I nod.
“What?” Andi asks, her head darting between Leo and I.
“I’m not going to finish the shoot if that photographer is going to be the one directing things. We can make it clear I’m the one who has the issue,” I say, meeting Leo’s sharp gaze.
The last thing I want is for people to blame Andi when everyone seems to have it out for her anyway.
“We can’t just stop a shoot like this early,” Andi says, shaking her head. “Contracts have been signed! This company is expecting more than just prints for posters or magazine spreads. Their campaign includes video, and we haven’t even touched that yet!”
“Well, who else do we have to direct things if not the photographer?” Leo murmurs, his voice low.
“I mean, I could do it?” Andi says, her voice coming out far less authoritative than her previous statements about the expectations for this campaign.
“Really? You’d do that?” Leo asks, his brows drawing up in surprise.
Her mouth opens and closes, the surprise written clear as day across her expression. Almost like she’s confused why Leo asked if she would do it and not could she really do it.
“I can—I can try?” she says, running a nervous hand through her hair.
My eyes catch on the motion. It betrays just how big this is to her. She hasn’t touched her hair since the stylist sprayed it with what must’ve been half a can of hairspray to keep the curls intact.
“Let’s do it,” I chime in, reaching out and grasping her shoulders, gently digging my thumbs into the tense muscle and massaging.
She stiffens at first before melting into my touch, a soft sound of pleasure slipping past her lips.
Fuck.
Wow.
I like that.
Maybe too much.
“Hmmm,” she hums, her eyes fluttering shut. “You guys aren’t even going to ask me if I know what I’m doing?”
“Well, you’ve been on plenty of these sets before, so you’re the most equipped out of all of us to figure this out.”
“I know a thing or two about film and videography,” she whispers, her eyes still closed. “Don’t tell my mom.”
“Consider my lips sealed,” I murmur into her ear, taking the opportunity to lean down so close her hair tickles my nose.
“It’s not like this shoot could get any worse than it already is,” Leo comments. “I’ll go get Eli on board. Let’s have him deal with the photographer and that pesky manager of yours.”
“Okay,” Andi nods, her eyes fluttering open.
The lazy smile she flashes up at me steals my breath away.
I should find more excuses to massage her. She does have an awful lot of tension in her shoulders. It’ll need continuous work to get rid of. I’d just be helping her out. With absolutely one-hundred percent pure, altruistic intentions.