Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
CLOVER
As we pull back into Los Angeles city limits, the weightlessness of the few days is slowly being crushed down by reality. I’m excited to see Smokey, and I’m excited to get back to filming, but there’s something oppressive about coming home.
Maybe it’s the public watching us much more closely out here, or the paparazzi lurking around every corner, waiting to take their shot.
Maybe it’s knowing I’m going home to a roommate I dislike.
And fine, maybe there’s the slightest possibility that going home means the end of whatever this is with Roman since we’re no longer in Napa. It’s a tough pill to swallow.
Because despite my better judgment and common sense, I’ve really enjoyed this time.
The few moments where Roman was tender and kind?
I’m worried that now that I know he has that side to him, it’s going to be hard to remember this is all for show.
Now that I know he has this side to him, I’m worried I may want it.
Most of the drive has been us listening to music together, or talking about our favorite movies.
He asked me about the posters hanging in my room, and we launched into a conversation about the original monster films from the thirties, forties and fifties.
But the closer we get to the city, the quieter we’ve become.
A notification flashes across the entertainment console — a message from Jill.
“Read message,” Roman instructs.
“Message from: Jill. Well, well, well. Don’t you two look loved up–”
Roman’s hand darts out to the screen to hit the skip button with a speed I’ve never seen the likes of before. He clears his throat.
“Is the turn for your place this light or the next one?”
“Next.” I bite down on a smile like the world’s biggest dork.
That smile comes crashing down when we round the corner to my place and see a swarm of photographers waiting at the front entrance to the building. There must be about a dozen or so, all poised and waiting to shout questions and take an incessant amount of pictures.
A pit forms in my stomach as I stare out at them.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” Roman growls.
My mind races. “Would Janine give them... my address?” It feels like such a violation.
“She’s not the brightest, but she’s been in the industry long enough to know never to do something that stupid.” His eyes are murderous.
The pit in my stomach deepens as I look up toward the window of my apartment.
“Roman...” I squeak out. I’m reluctant to say it, but something in my gut tells me I know exactly who leaked my address.
It’s someone who knows it like the back of their own hand.
My mind flashes back to a few days ago and the scratch on Maren’s arm.
Smokey had seemed agitated that day when I came home, and my perfume bottle was on the floor.
.. and I know she reads TroisToi. I’ve seen the tab open on her computer. “It might be Maren,” I whisper.
Not knowing what else to do, I reach for the back seat where my bag is. Before I get it, Roman’s hand darts out to grip mine.
“You’re not bringing that inside,” he says.
“But I need my things, I can’t stay at my place without my–”
“You won’t be staying at your place. Not if she’s there.” His eyes are narrowed, and he grips my hand a little tighter than he means to.
Sneaking in through the entrance near the dumpsters, I can feel Roman’s anger. It rolls off him in waves as we ride the elevator. When we get to the apartment door, he takes the keys from me and flings the door open. Maren’s sitting on the couch, filing her nails.
“Grab your things, I’ll meet you in your room.” He stares down at Maren, and suddenly I almost feel sorry for her.
I open my door to find Smokey looking tired and dejected at the end of my bed. She immediately perks up when she notices me enter the room.
“Smokes,” I coo as she meanders over to me for some affection. As I pet her, I hear raised voices coming from the living room.