Chapter 35 #2
And because he was Quentin, he flashed that ridiculous smile, the one that had absolutely no business being that charming this early in the morning. It tugged at her lips before she could stop it, and she barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“Trust is the hard part,” she said finally, the words coming out more like a sigh than an argument.
“I know,” he replied, voice losing its teasing edge. “Ask me why I don’t date.”
That made her frown. “Why?”
He took a slow breath. “The last time I let someone in, she took a photo of me while I was sleeping and she posted it online.”
Sadie stiffened.
“I didn’t even know until strangers started DM’ing me screenshots. The comments, the theories, all of it.” He gave a small shrug, but it didn’t hide much. “I was just a story to her. Something she could use for attention.”
“Quentin…” she whispered.
“It’s why I keep people at arm’s length,” he admitted. “It’s easier to act like none of it touched me than to admit it did. But the truth is... I didn’t know how to trust anyone after that. I still don’t. Not completely.”
He glanced at her again, holding her eyes with something close to hope. “But I’m trying.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah,” he said with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “But I guess it’s made me more careful. Maybe a little too careful.”
“You’re braver than me,” she said finally.
Quentin raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”
“Because you’re still trying,” she said with a faint smile. “You haven’t given up completely.”
He chuckled. “Well, maybe I just met someone worth trying for.”
Her heart stuttered, catching on those words like a hook. Her mouth parted, but nothing came out at first. There was a pull in her chest, a quiet ache that whispered don’t fall, don’t fall.
“We’ve got two more months on this shoot,” he said easily. “Why not see where it takes us?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she folded the corner of her napkin, then unfolded it, then smoothed it flat again, like maybe she could iron the static out of her thoughts.
Every logical part of her brain was waving red flags.
Quentin Ramos was the kind of man strangers slowed down for.
The kind of face that lived on magazine covers and in slow-motion fan edits set to moody indie music.
She built monsters out of latex and glue in windowless trailers. Her job was to disappear.
They weren’t just from different worlds. They weren’t even playing the same game.
But the truth was that she liked him. She liked the way he talked to her like she wasn’t something to impress. The way he actually listened. The stupid jokes. The sparks that lit up her skin anytime he touched her.
Yeah, the sex was amazing, but that wasn’t what had her heart doing backflips right now.
It was him. It was how he saw her. Like she was worth being seen.
Every instinct told her to shut it down, make a joke, change the subject, keep it light. That was safer. Safer than hoping for something real. But when she looked up, he was still there. Still waiting. Still choosing her, even when he didn’t have to.
“You’re actually serious?” she asked, voice soft. “You really want to try this?”
“I do,” he said, steady and sure, like the answer had never once been in question.
She hesitated, gaze dropping. “You realize I’m a lot, right? I’m loud. I’m messy.” Her voice wavered. “My ex used to say I was too much, like I was more problem than person.”
Quentin’s jaw ticked. “Okay, I will say this again: fuck your ex. I will personally kill him. Just give me an address and a description, sweetheart.”
That pulled a startled laugh from her, a breathless little thing, but he wasn’t done.
“You could show me every piece of yourself you’ve ever tried to hide, and I’d still want more,” he said quietly. “Too loud. Too emotional. Too complicated. I want all of it. There is no version of you that’s too much for me. Not one.”
Something in her shifted and softened. A smile tugged at her lips like it wasn’t sure it belonged there but it did. God help her, she was going to say yes.
“Okay,” she said, quiet but sure. “Let’s see where it goes.”
And just like that, his whole face lit up like the sun had come out for him and only him. She could almost hear the orchestra swell.
“That’s all I’m asking, Roja,” he said, voice light, that slow grin playing on his lips.
He paused. “My only ask is that it’s just me while we’re doing this. We won’t see other people.”
Sadie lifted a brow. “Well, yeah. That’s kind of the whole idea, isn’t it? I wasn’t planning on holding your hand and sneaking off to hook up with the grip guy behind craft services.”
Quentin snorted. “I’m serious, Sadie,” he said. “I can’t stand the idea of you with anyone else. It drives me out of my damn mind.”
There was no anger in his voice. There was no edge of demand in his voice, just something raw, something that reached inside her and gripped tight.
And somehow, it didn’t scare her the way it should have.
She understood. Because the thought of him with someone else, his hands or his mouth on another woman, that crooked smile meant for anyone but her, made her stomach twist into knots.
"That's a little intense, don't you think?" she asked, trying for playful. But her voice was quieter than she meant.
"I’m intense," he said, his mouth lifting at the corner, though the look in his eyes didn’t soften. "Especially when it comes to you."
“I wasn’t planning on seeing anyone else,” she whispered.
His breath left him in a quiet laugh, and then he reached for her hand, lifting it gently. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, the brush was lingering and electric in a way that made her chest ache.
“Good,” he whispered. “Because I don’t plan on sharing you.”
Sadie leaned back in her seat, heart pounding, nerves buzzing like static under her skin. Nothing about this made sense, and maybe that was the point. Maybe this was about the pull, the undeniable current drawing her closer, no matter how reckless it felt.