6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
—THE LUCKY ONE BY TAYLOR SWIFT
“What do you wear on a fake date?” my sister asks through my phone.
“Normal clothes, Liv. It’s just the relationship that’s fake, not anything else.” I swipe some blush onto my face before I braid my hair, throwing one of my favorite light brown bows on the end. This relationship is mostly for the media buzz it’ll create and, according to Connie, I always have to look camera-ready when I leave the house.
So today, I opted for a simple sweater dress since it’s still a bit chilly out. Spring is slowly moving into Pennsylvania, and pairing my cream-colored dress with my favorite brown boots is making me feel more confident already.
I’ve always thought that a good outfit and a few swipes of lip gloss make me more confident, and my theory is always proven correct. I feel less jittery already.
“Are you sure this is the best idea?”
“Liv, I know you’re worried, but don't be. I’ll be fine. Vince will be with me the whole time, and our managers called the paparazzi, so there will only be people there they want there.”
“Bree, I’ll always worry, but I just want to make sure you feel okay about this choice. ”
It wasn't really a choice. “I’ll be fine. I have to go, or I’m going to be late. I love you. Tell Tristan I say hey.”
“I will. I love you too.” I hang up, and just as I zip my boots, Vince knocks on my door.
He’s wearing his usual all-black attire, and when he sees me, his eyes do a once over of my outfit before stopping on the bow at the end of my hair. I grab my purse before throwing my lip gloss, wallet, sunglasses, and phone in it, and when I meet his eyes again, he’s looking straight at me.
“Are you ready to go?” His voice doesn't match his expression. It’s like he’s straining his voice to speak, but his face is still as hard and tight as it normally is. Is he okay?
“Yeah, I’m ready.” As I say that, my palms start to sweat, and I suddenly feel like my outfit is horrendous. “Do I look okay? I’m basically announcing a relationship to the world, and I feel like I don't look camera-ready.”
“If I was him, I’d never take my eyes off you.” His voice is still doing that weird thing. “Why do you have to do this again?”
“It was Connie’s idea. She’s trying to get the media off my…situation and onto something better. A lot of couples in Hollywood do this, so it’s nothing new. She would rather have good press on me, and it was a mutually beneficial agreement. Alex proves to the public that he can settle down, and I get to stop seeing everyone only talk about Ralph rather than the good I’ve been doing.”
“Ah.”
We stand and stare at each other for a few more seconds before I remember we have somewhere to be. My heels click down the stairs, where I find another guy standing there waiting for us. “Emerson, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nods at me, and I hold my hand out to introduce myself.
“Bree Hart. ”
I feel Vince come up behind me before I see him. “Emerson is joining us today. Connie told me how much paparazzi she called, and he’s one of my best. He’ll drive, and I’ll sit in the back with you and escort you into the coffee shop. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds perfect, boss,” I joke with him, and as we head for the car, I start to second guess whatever the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
As the car slows to a stop outside the quaint shop, I take a deep breath. It’s just a cup of coffee, Bree. You can do this.
“Emerson is staying in the car the entire time, and I’ll get you inside. Stay behind me and wait for my hand to let you know it’s safe to get out of the car.”
“Got it.” And then he slides out, and I already see flashes of cameras going off. I throw my sunglasses on, wanting the bright lights to go away already.
I was never at this level before Alex, and now, I’m afraid that this whole fake relationship will change that forever. I used to be a girl who sat in her room and ranted about the books she loved, but now, it all feels different. I never could’ve imagined that this is what my life would turn into—camera flashes anytime I leave the house, my mail having to be sorted in case of any dangerous things, and guys threatening to do things to me without my consent.
I have the things I’ve always wanted—financial stability, people who care about my thoughts, a life of talking about the books I love—but it’s not at all what I imagined it would be.
Vince’s hand reaching back into the car breaks my spiral, and I put my hand in his as I get out of the car. That small amount of contact brings awareness to all my senses. Goosebumps travel over my skin, and I don’t know why. Focus on what you’re here for, Bree. It’s probably from my nerves. I’m hoping they’ll settle, but I doubt it.
“Step back. You’ll get your pictures, don't worry.” Vince tells them as I follow him forward, my head down the entire time as they throw questions at me.
“Bree, did Alex fly all the way to Pennsylvania for you?”
“Bree, are you and Alex an item?”
“Is this a first date, Bree?”
“Care to comment on the rumors that Ralph was wrongfully accused?”
My steps falter as that last statement hits me in the face. Wrongfully accused . I pause before the door of the coffee shop, my head starting to leave my body before I feel a hand against my arm.
“Bree?” Vince asks me, eyes full of concern. “Let’s get you inside.”
I nod at him, regaining my composure as I put my fakest smile back on and act like that statement didn't rattle me as much as it did.
Good God, some days, I just wish it would all stop.
As I sit down across from Alex—in a window seat—I paste on my fakest smile and pretend like I’m happy to see him. “Hi.”
He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles, the flashes still going crazy. I notice we’re the only two people in the coffee shop, and I see a few of his bodyguards posted around as well. Vince has taken up his spot in the far corner, where he’s able to see every entrance point. “Hi, baby.”
“Did you rent out this whole place just for me?” God, I don't even recognize my own voice. This might be my version of a customer service voice. I sound like my sister at her old job.
“I did. I also got you your favorite drink.” He slides the cup over to me, and I take a sip, letting the caffeine calm me down and erase my headache. “Boy, they really are going crazy out there, aren't they?”
“Well, you’re you, and wasn't that the point of this? Cleaning up your playboy image, Mr. Adams?”
“Exactly right, Miss Hart, but I thought for sure you’d back out before this. I guess I underestimated you.”
“That you did. I do what I’m told, and I do it well.” God, I hate this already. Is this what real-life dating is like? If it is, I’m happy to know I’m not missing much. This is as close as I’ll ever get to going on a date with someone, so I better make it count. “So, what does one talk about on a date?”
“Oh, honey, I have no clue. I’m not much of a dater per se. I much prefer my partners to be horizontal and silent during our time together.”
Ew. “What a charmer you are.” Part of me is confused as to his attitude. I did some digging on Alex after our initial meeting, and he had a long-term girlfriend. Granted, it was very on again and off again, but all the pictures I saw of them together, he looked at Lily like she was the only person in the world. I could tell he was in love with her—maybe he still is. They only broke up about a year ago, and I wonder what happened.
If I had that once-in-a-lifetime type of love, I’d do anything to keep it. Unless Alex fucked up pretty badly. I can only speculate since I don't believe all the rumors, but I wonder why he agreed to this if he could still love her.
Though he might not, since he’s been fucking most of Hollywood’s up-and-coming actors and actresses since the big split.
“So, you’re really into books. I wasn't aware that so many people were hardcore readers.”
I nod. “I do love escapism. I’ve read around thirty books so far this year, and—”
He cuts me off. “I don't think I’ve read a book since the second grade.”
Not this. Anytime someone finds out what I do, that phrase is the most common one said back to me. It drives me insane because what am I supposed to say to that? Congratulations and here's a medal for being illiterate? “Everyone has their own hobbies, I guess.”
He takes a sip of his drink before he continues the conversation, and I try my best to pay attention, but it’s hard when all Alex does is talk about himself. He’s not even that interesting of a guy, and I wonder how his fake charm works on so many people. That’s the one thing I love about being an influencer: I think people can tell I’m genuinely just a girl and her books, nothing more, nothing less.
A sharp noise startles me, and all of a sudden, I can feel my skin start to crawl.
He’s in the house. His steel-toed boots are thumping up the stairs. He’s pausing in front of the closet door. He’s dragging me out by my ankles, and I’m about to scream, but he puts a gun to my throat that I thought was a knife, and—
“Excuse me,” I say as I get up from the table as elegantly as I can before beelining it for the bathroom.
I manage to get in, but my legs feel like jelly as I collapse to the cold tile floor, all the memories of that night rushing through my mind like a tsunami.
I’m not safe.
I’ll never be safe.
I’m going to die.
He’s going to shoot me, and I’m going to die.