Jace
Istand abruptly as I glance over at my manager whose wide-eyed expression mirrors mine. The introvert in me is screaming at the thought of being stuck in a cabin with someone I hardly know, and frankly speaking, don’t like very much.
At least based on everything I’ve heard about him. We have nothing in common and he seems like the type of guy to rub his win in my face.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. We’re both method actors.” I turn to Lennox, giving him a reassuring nod with a knowing look to agree with me. “We’ll have no problem getting into character once we get on set.”
Instead he smiles, giving me that same flirty look he gave Pierre’s assistant and says, “I think the cabin is a brilliant idea.”
Well, he’s no fucking help at all.
I pin a glare at him before peering up to the ceiling, sucking in a deep breath.
I need this. I want this. And if I’m going to do roles outside of what people expect, I need to do things I’ve never done before.
Words escape me, so I just nod and agree with both of them.
“Fantastic.” Pierre claps his hands. “The cabin is nice. You will like it.”
That’s hardly my concern.
“I’ll have a car pick you up in two hours.” I give Pierre a curt nod as I hold out my hand; it feels distant and cold but I don’t know what else to do. He gives it a quick shake, before doing the same to Lennox, then leaves the room.
“See you in a couple of hours,” Lennox says with a wink. His posh accent contrasts sharply against his tattooed skin and leather jacket.
My eyes are glued to him as he swaggers out of the office with the utmost confidence and I flush with embarrassment. I think that’s what I’m feeling.
“What the hell was that, Jace?” Gordon asks, stepping up next to me as I lean against the back of Pierre’s desk.
“I don’t know. I shut down. Pierre made me nervous and him”—I flip my hand in the direction of the door—“h–he…flustered me.”
“Okaaay. You do know you have multiple intimate scenes with that man, right?”
God, don’t remind me.
I slide my palms down my face. “I’m a professional actor. I’ve been doing this my whole life. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Acting, yes. But something like this…no,” he says, patting me over my shoulder, giving me the bit of grace I need. “You normally isolate yourself for a couple days to get ready for a role, this won’t be much different.”
I can’t help the incredulous huff that passes as I side-eye him. “This is totally different.”
“I know,” he chuckles, “but you totally set yourself up for this. You were sooo awkward.”
Yeah, it was pretty bad.
I completely malfunctioned when Lennox slid his hand in mine.
It was like he became a reality that I’ve been avoiding.
His quick popularity, and dare I say, the jealousy of him winning last year hit me as I stood next to him.
Yet, the stark differences between the two of us blended together easily with one touch.
The way his thumb stroked my skin. I rub my hand over the area he touched. Was it intentional? He was probably doing that to get under my skin. And it worked.
I’m not going to feel bullied by him.
Fuck this.
This is a job and I’m a goddamn professional. I can easily act like I like him.
“We’re picking up Mr. Rome, then we’ll head directly to the cabin, unless you need to stop anywhere on the way, Mr. Wilder?” the driver asks as he peers through the rear-view mirror of the limo that Pierre sent.
“No, I’m good. Thank you for asking.” He nods at my reply, then turns his gaze back on the road.
I’m ready for this. I’ve psyched myself up for the fact that I’ll be spending a week with Lennox, which is fine; I need to run lines and practice anyway.
Might as well do it together. I know this has to be just as nerve-wracking for him as it is for me and he probably feels like he needs this more than I do.
I have no idea why the media decided to start comparing us. Maybe because we’re so vastly different. It wasn’t until those nominations were announced that anyone really cared. But since then it’s been tit-for-tat between the two of us even though we had never even met.
The vehicle comes to a stop and I peer out the side window to look at the all-glass skyrise we’re parked in front of.
There’s a man at the front with an earpiece, opening the door for someone walking in.
He looks more like a bodyguard than a doorman.
This building probably needs that with some of the celebrities that I’ve heard live here.
It’s in the heart of downtown Hollywood, close to the studios but overwhelmingly opposite to my mansion in the Hollywood Hills. It feels so exposed.
Just then, the doorman pulls open the door and Lennox glides out of the building. His walk is smooth and confident. He’s wearing a baseball cap sporting an LA logo and his sunglasses rest at the bridge of his nose, fully covering any expression.
He’s wearing the same thing as earlier. A plain white T-shirt with that damn leather jacket.
His jeans are marred with a few intentional tears in the knee caps and it all adds to the ease of his demeanor.
He glances to the corner of the curb, waves with a smile at the paparazzi, then our driver opens the car door.
I scootch over to make room for him just as he ducks through, diving into the car quickly.
A move perfected by most seasoned celebrities.
He slides the glasses off his face, those deep green eyes that look more like emeralds skim my body then meet my gaze.
I see why everyone talks about his eyes. They’re breathtaking.
Swallowing thickly, I tip my chin with a silent hello.
“Hi,” he says with a lopsided grin, and I’m jealous of the ease of his body language.
Our driver gets into the vehicle and introduces himself as Raymond.
“Nice to meet you, Ray. How long is the drive to the cabin?” Lennox asks.
“About two hours, sir.”
He sucks air through his teeth with a partial grimace. “Well, good thing I brought these.” He pulls out what looks like a deck of cards, plopping it down in between us.
I tilt my neck to the side to read the words on the outside of the small box and squint as I glance back up to him.
“You want to play Would You Rather?”
One shoulder lifts up in a shrug. “Why not? What else are we going to do?”
He rolls his shoulders back, sliding his leather jacket off his arms then tosses it on the seat that runs up the side of the limo. Bending his knee, he turns to face me as he drapes his arm over the back of the seat.
“You go first,” he says as he tosses the small box of cards in my lap.
His white T-shirt brings out a lighter tone to his eyes, or maybe it’s his genuine smile and playful squint.
“Sure,” I finally reply, a little irritated that he wants to play a silly question game instead of run lines or do something productive that will help us focus on the movie or script.
It seems to be right in line with his Social Share videos. A class clown that doesn’t take anything seriously. His only goal is to misbehave on purpose or goof around to make others laugh.
I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with. I keep my distance with people; I’ve had to since I was a kid growing up in the spotlight, not knowing who really wanted to be my friend or use me for my fame.
I’ve experienced it more often than I’d care to admit, and as a result, I naturally cut myself off before I can get close with anyone.
I’m friendly with my co-stars and crew. I get along with everyone on a surface level and I’ve even been known to be nice to the paparazzi.
Hell, I’m nice to everyone so the media eats up my all-American look and demeanor.
Little does anyone know how lonely I really am.
Not with the golden boy smile and mask of happiness I wear whenever a camera is pointed at me.
Pulling out the first card, I can’t help but snort before reading it out loud.
“Would you rather have hiccups for the rest of your life or sneeze nonstop for an hour every time you ate?”
“Oh man, I love food.” He puffs out his cheeks as he lets out a thoughtful breath. “Hiccups. I’ll take the hiccups.”
I shake my head. “Both are terrible,” I reply as I toss the card into a newly made discard pile.
“Yeah, that’s the point though and you have to answer.” Lennox wiggles his eyebrows as he picks up the next card. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or 100 duck-sized horses?”
A rare, hearty laugh bellows out from me before he says, “Can you imagine how terrifying a horse-sized duck would be? No, thank you. I’ll take the 100 duck-sized horses.” He answers his own question but still looks over at me, waiting for my answer.
“I’d take on the one giant duck, a swarm of 100 mini horses would freak me out.”
“Are you out of your bloody mind, mate? Ducks fly, you know. That giant feathered creature could start flapping it’s wings and take off, picking you up with his massive beak like a fucking pterodactyl, and then just drop you from a thousand feet in the air like you were a puny little ant.”
I throw my head back and laugh again at his description but shrug. “I still think my chances are better.”
He’s still shaking his head as I peer up to look at him. We’re both still smiling as our eyes connect and I realize how instantly at ease he made me feel. I’m not sure that’s ever happened so quickly in my entire life.
My guard is back up as my smile fades. He must sense it because he quickly tosses the question in the discard pile, then leans forward, brushing his arm against mine as he reaches for the glasses on the shelf behind me.
He uses two fingers to grip onto the rim of the cups, then leans even closer using his other hand to grab the whisky decanter. A mix of cedar and spice wafts around me and I’m not used to a masculine scent being so close; it’s surprisingly alluring and my curiosity shocks me.
I lean back, creating space for him, avoiding his gaze.
His eyes trail my body as he leans back, handing me one of the two glasses.
Glancing at my watch—a Rolex gifted by Rolex themselves, I ask, “Isn’t it a little early for hard liquor?”
“Who knows if there’s any alcohol at the cabin. Besides, we have a week. Might as well relax and take advantage. We can do…” he pauses, his voice lowering a notch, “whatever we want, right?”
The ease in which he pulls an agreeable, slow nod from me, surprises me. Especially when I never get to do just anything I want.
He pours the amber liquid in my glass, then repeats the same for himself. It sloshes as he clinks our glasses together, then he tips his chin at the large stack of questions. “Your turn.”