Anyone But the Superstar (Anyone But You #3)

Chapter 4

4

LIZ

My gut is churning.

And it’s not the three – okay, five – mini muffins I’ve consumed since waiting for the VIPs to arrive.

‘He’s coming!’ Halter Top low-volume squeals, causing all the women, and some of the men, to straighten up, a few of them running a hand through their hair.

I’m aware of everything around me, but it’s foggy, as if it’s not happening a few feet from where I’m standing, my eyes glued to my phone.

Earlier, I excused myself from the group to do the research Tall Guy mentioned. And now, after Googling the cast of Countdown , I can’t take my eyes off the image of the male lead.

I reread the caption beneath the photo:

Felix Jones at the premiere of Shanghai’s Salvation .

I never saw Shanghai’s Salvation or any of the other movies listed under the actor’s filmography.

And yet the combination of short brown hair, parted on the side and quaffed with the perfect amount of product, up-tilted lips and deep brown eyes, which are bracketed with the ideal amount of smile lines, seems eerily familiar.

‘Do you think he’s as hot in real life and he is in his movies?’ a crew member asks.

Another nudges the person beside them with their elbow. ‘Remember when he was on The Ellen Show and he gave everyone in the audience an Xbox to commemorate his movie being turned into a game?’

‘I wonder if the bulge behind his Calvins is as large as the billboard on Times Square makes it out to be, or if it’s just photoshop?’ someone ponders.

The crew’s gossip, once it registers, eases the pinch in my chest.

Of course I’ve seen Felix Jones’ eyes and lips before. I may not have watched any of his movies, but he is a celebrity. He’s been on TV talk shows and commercials, and thanks to one of the gossip-savvy crew, I know his underwear billboard is hung in the middle of my home city.

Laughing at myself, I lower my phone. My past personal drama must’ve made me more anxious than I thought. During my year of self-discovering, I’m realizing I might be less carefree like my brother Chase and more paranoid like my other brother Thomas.

The door opens across the way and the crew goes quiet.

I lift up on my toes to get a glimpse of the incoming celebrities, but the gathered crowd, confined to the area not marked in red tape, is too large to see more than the tops of their heads as they enter.

The crew exclaims as one, each person having an opinion on the group entering the building.

‘I knew he’d be just as hot as in the movies. ’

‘Whoa, Amanda looks amazing. I hear she does some sort of dance to keep in shape.’

‘Do you think Felix wears lifts? I didn’t think he’d be so tall.’

‘Do you think the rumors are true, do you think the woman is dating?—’

‘All right, all right, settle down everyone,’ a man’s voice yells, quieting down the crew. ‘For those who don’t know, I’m Ron Allen, the director of Countdown . And the two next to me are its stars.’

There’s a subtle shift in everyone’s stance, as if making room for people to step forward.

‘Hi, everyone, I’m Amanda Willis.’ A woman’s voice rings out in the cavernous building like a Broadway performer.

I put the face that came up in my Google search to it.

‘I’m very much looking forward to working with everyone.’

I’m about to pocket my phone when Felix Jones speaks. ‘And I’m Felix Jones.’

While a collective female sigh echoes, my hand tightens around my phone.

It can’t be.

‘And, like Amanda, I’m very happy to be here and to begin working with you.’

Doing the same as I did for Amanda, I conjure up the picture of Felix Jones from my phone. But instead of a perfectly quaffed and tuxedoed movie star, my imagination distorts until the man has a baseball cap and an unruly beard.

No. Not possible.

Using the hand not holding my phone in a screen-cracking grip, I brace myself on the side of the full-scale International Space Station mock-up and climb onto one of the large speaker boxes the crew set up earlier for the press junket. Red tape be damned .

Carefully, I circle-shuffle in my Birkenstocks until I’m looking over the crowd.

Em’s there. The overhead lights reflect off her jeweled barrette, making her easily discernible despite her height. Next to her is Ron, a man of medium height that I recognize from a photo in my professor’s office back in New York. Amanda Willis is next and then?—

Tall Guy shifts in the crowd, blocking my view.

Fucking Tall Guy.

‘I know you might want to get autographs or ask questions,’ Ron says, the second part of his comment laced with meaning as his eyes move through the crowd, ‘but remember, this is not the time. We’re professionals here to do a job.’

Halter Top visibly deflates.

‘I’m known to run a tight ship on my film sets, but I will be even more strict on this one.’ Ron raises his arms, gesturing to our surroundings. ‘This is NASA. A federal agency.’ He nods at Em. ‘They were nice enough to allow us here to capture the real, everyday life of the men and women of NASA and I, for one, don’t want to fuck that up.’ He smiles at the last, his expression easing some of the building tension. ‘So, besides today—’ he gestures at the journalists ‘—there will be no personal cellphones, laptops, cameras or tablets allowed during filming.’ He waits for the collective groan to fade. ‘Anyone caught not adhering to this rule will be dismissed on the spot.’

A woman steps next to Ron and goes over some of the same guidelines that Em went over earlier and adds in housing details that I wish were relevant to me. I’m about to hop off the speaker when Ron speaks up again.

‘Now that that’s over, I want to thank you all – crew and otherwise – for being here today.’ Ron nods, his eyes a lot less scary when he’s not threatening people. ‘It’s going to be a great time and an even better movie.’

Amanda raises a hand and adds her own, ‘I’m so happy and thankful you all are here.’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Felix Jones, still hidden behind Tall Guy, speaks, his voice sending a chill of recognition down my spine. ‘Or as my mam?e says, obrigado .’

I fight the sudden need to vomit masticated muffins all over NASA’s billion-dollar training equipment less than a foot away.

While I can rationalize the familiarity of his face on my phone, and even the sense of déjà vu at his voice, I can’t ignore the foreign language.

Not when it sounds exactly like the whispered naughty talk that had my toes curling and my vagina clenching before everything in my mouth went numb.

Ignoring the threat of muffin retribution, I tap my thumbs over my phone, clicking the link for the actor’s personal bio. Of Portuguese descent glares at me from the white screen.

I suddenly have trouble breathing and swallowing. As if I’m suffering phantom numbness from my recent condom trauma.

Which makes sense as, when the crowd parts, and I finally get a look at the Oscar-nominated, two-time Golden Globe winner and People’s Choice’s most charming smile winner three years in a row, I don’t see Felix Jones, male lead actor of Countdown .

I see a freshly shaven douche bag named Johnny.