Anyone But the Superstar (Anyone But You #3)

Chapter 14

14

LIZ

‘Places, everyone.’ Ron, the director, claps his hands, the sound echoing in the massive building, as he sits behind the camera focused on Felix, who looks handsome as ever in a plaid button-down, jeans and boots.

Felix’s character, Holden, is a cowboy who falls in love with an astronaut. And while I’ve seen him dressed as a cowboy to go produce shopping, something about the way the wardrobe team has cut the line of his shirt and molded the denim to the curve of his ass has me appreciating Texas in a way I never did before.

If Thomas were here, he’d poach the wardrobe team for Moore’s tailoring department.

‘Where’s Amanda?’ David asks, looking around for Felix’s co-star.

With the pre-approved time to film at NASA so tight, Ron’s been leaning on my professor to help with more of the pre-production work than just storyboarding.

One of the crew members points to a side door. ‘I saw her go that way.’

Ron’s expression flattens. There’s only so much time before NASA kicks the Hollywood interlopers out. There’s no time for retakes, let alone running over the film’s schedule.

Today’s scene, filmed poolside in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, where NASA trains its astronauts in what is as close to micro-gravity as you can get on Earth – water.

And a lot of it.

The NBL has one of the world’s largest indoor pools that contains full-scale mock-ups of the International Space Station and visiting vehicles like SpaceX Dragon and the European Space Agency ATV.

And with that comes the heavy scent of chlorine saturating the humid air.

Mike’s already wrinkled face contorts with multiple sneezes. On the fourth, he bats at his own face with his paw as if attempting to expel the heavy, chorine-saturated air out of his nose.

Today is my last day as a storyboarder and the film’s quickest turnaround time on any given NASA location. Usually, after I hand in a storyboard, there’s a day or two where Ron can review the locations via my artwork before arriving on set to film. Time to plan lighting, camera angles and actor marks. But with the added insurance needed to film near such a large amount of water and the astronauts’ tight training schedule, there’s only one day to get it all done.

Mike sneezes again and I fight the urge to pick him up and cuddle him. The less attention I bring my way, the better.

‘Um…’ Amanda’s manager stares at the door the crew member pointed to, fidgeting when his client fails to appear. ‘I’ll go get her.’

With a heavy sigh, Ron slides off his seat and walks toward Felix. ‘Let’s take this time to go over the scene. ’

Felix nods, looking more apt student than devil-may-care leading man.

It’s annoyingly attractive.

‘In this scene, you’re being pushed to overcome your fears.’ Ron pauses, staring at Felix but as if seeing him as his character. ‘Fear that’s become a crutch after losing your father in a car accident.’ He lowers both hands onto Felix’s shoulders. ‘And now that fear is keeping you from what you really want. What you need .’

A plethora of expressions flicker over Felix’s face in rapid succession as if he’s trying on and shedding various emotions, determining which ones fit his motivation.

It’s entrancing.

‘Jennifer is going to push you,’ Ron continues, speaking of Amanda’s character. ‘And you’ll want to fight it. But you love her. And love is what allows you to be fearless.’

A few crew members sigh.

While I hold back on sighing, I do find myself nodding. Without love, I’m pretty sure Chase would still be playing the spare to the heir card by speed dating and refusing to live up to his potential while my other brother Thomas would still be a workaholic with a soul as empty as my bank account after Stanley Moore got done with it.

But then again, love is also why my mother married Stanley Winston Moore. A decision I’m sure she regrets.

I guess that means that while love can make stupid people do smart things, it can also make smart people do really stupid things.

Things like accepting my professor’s invitation to stay and watch filming when I could be home, alone, and free to draw whatever my little heart and imagination desires .

Not that Felix and I are in love. Or even a relationship. A friend ship, maybe. But definitely not love.

I shake my head as if to emphasize that fact, accidentally scribbling over my latest drawing. Curiosity. Yes. I’m simply curious over all the hubbub I’ve heard about Felix’s acting skills.

That’s all. That why I’m here.

‘You know electronics are forbidden on set, right?’ Coral Halter Top, aka Sylvie, who I also remember from the press junket, taps her foot in front of me. But instead of a coral halter top, today she’s wearing a white tube top sans bra, noticeable thanks to the puckered circles visible through the spandex.

‘It’s studio approved. I’m a storyboarder.’ I tilt the tablet toward my chest, not wanting her to see the obvious not-work-related drawing of Mike lovingly riding a rocket into space to hunt for mice-eating moon cheese.

‘Huh.’ She crosses her arms, a half-smirk on her glossy lips. ‘That’s right, you’re the intern .’ She says intern like it’s an insult.

‘Yep.’ My cheeks feel tight as I smile. ‘That’s me. Intern.’

She shakes her head, the rhinestone clip in her hair catching the overhead lights.

Mike lunges, but my hold on his leash keeps him from jumping.

Boobs jostling as she takes a step back, Sylvie points at Mike. ‘What’s that ?’ As usual, Mike’s presence startles the unsuspecting.

‘Oh, this?’ I slide my tablet in my bag then pick Mike up. ‘This is an emotional support sphinx.’

Mike’s eyes never leave the woman’s hair.

Giving me full-on Mean Girls vibes, Sylvie curls her lip. ‘Ew.’ She recoils further when Mike stretches a paw toward her. ‘Keep that rat away from me.’

Feeling very much like a protective older sibling, I step toward her. I may be able to call him all sorts of names, but that’s because I love him. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some big-boobed, try-hard slander my brother’s cunt. ‘He’s not a rat.’

Her eyes widen in surprise. I guess she isn’t used to a lot of back-talk. Bullies never are. I learned that in boarding school.

‘And if you don’t want his attention, hide your hair clip.’ I smile when both her hands shoot to her head. ‘He loves clawing shiny things.’

With one last glare, she spins on her heel and hustles back to the crew.

The large amount of satisfaction I feel when she pockets her hair clip is sad.

Mike meows his disappointment.

‘Let’s just get a crew member to step in for Amanda.’ Ron, apparently done waiting for his leading lady, draws my attention back to the crew as he points between the jib crane and the edge of the pool.

‘Yes.’ David nods, his expression focused. ‘Good idea.’

As if rewarding me for my loyalty, Mike rubs his nose against mine and purrs.

I nuzzle him back. ‘I love you too, buddy.’ He’s been especially affectionate since he caused my indecent exposure in front of Felix’s mother.

And Felix and I have been especially awkward in front of each other since then as well.

I undo the scribble on my tablet, and, using the shape tool, change Mike’s pupils to hearts.

‘I’ll do it!’ Sylvie nearly pops her top thrusting her arm in the air. ‘I volunteer.’

‘Sorry.’ David shakes his head. ‘We can’t use a crew member.’

Nearly all of Sylvie deflates.

‘It might cause problems with the union,’ David adds .

Ron pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Then who the hell?—’

‘I got this.’ David scans the crowd, pausing when he catches sight of me. ‘Anne!’

Fuck a duck.

Hands together, as if in prayer, David points them toward me and smiles. ‘May I borrow you for a moment?’

Reluctance threads its way through me as I force a thin smile and lower Mike to the concrete floor. ‘Sure.’

‘Great.’ If David notes the reluctance in my voice, he doesn’t show it.

Felix, standing behind David, covers his mouth with one hand, his shaking shoulders telling me he did not miss my lack of enthusiasm.

‘Anne isn’t a studio worker, she’s my intern,’ David explains to Ron.

Sylvie doesn’t look as superior as she had before at the mention of my title.

Under her glare, I drag my feet as David gestures me forward.

The crew parts like the Red Sea allowing Moses Mike and me through, their murmurs of shock and awe causing Mike to make the most of his catwalk.

As I move past the crew, Ron glances at me and shrugs. ‘Fine.’ Then he goes back to looking over his clipboard. I’m not sure if he doesn’t notice Mike or just doesn’t care.

Circling on his leash, Mikey faces me, holding up his tail and giving Ron the perfect view of his hairless asshole. Thankfully, Ron doesn’t look.

I bite my lip, coughing to cover a laugh when my eyes catch sight of Felix, his lips twisting to the side. Our shared amusement over Mike’s antics strangely making me feel less nervous about all the unwanted attention.

Placing my work bag on the ground, I pretend not to notice Sylvie eviscerating me with her eyes as I tie the end of Mike’s leash to the leg of a crane that’s bolted into the ground. Satisfied I’ve properly thwarted Mikey’s genius-level Houdini skills, I scratch him between the ears. ‘Be a good boy, okay?’

Thus far, Mike has defied the odds by not causing a federal incident while at NASA. A miracle that might have to do with the tight leash and baby carrier always keeping him restricted. Or, and probably the most likely, his good behavior stems from a constant stream of treats.

I pat his side, noticeably thicker since Chase left him with me.

‘This way.’ David waves me over once more, hurrying me along.

For added insurance, I give Mikey another treat before standing.

‘Now then, Anne,’ David says once I reach him and Felix by the crane, ‘we just need to block out the scene, make sure the angles are good before we start filming.’ David holds up the storyboard I created, the details from the script coming back to me as I look it over.

Oh crap.

I cut my eyes to Felix, who, from the smirk on his face, knows exactly what the two characters are supposed to do in this scene.

‘Stand.’ Ron gestures to a blue taped X on the ground.

Like a soldier obeying orders, I do, my Birkenstocks dragging across the textured poolside concrete.

‘In this scene, the two leads are talking,’ Ron explains. ‘Then Jennifer, Amanda’s character, walks over to Holden, Felix’s character.’ Ron looks at me, and whatever expression I’m making has him adding, ‘You’re standing in for Amanda’s character.’

Felix’s eyes glitter like the pool water under the fluorescent lights .

‘Got it.’ I nod, looking anywhere but at the man standing on the other blue X a few feet in front of me.

To Felix, I’m probably getting my just deserts. I’ve spent the past few days since flashing his mother avoiding him as much as possible. Kind of hard to do when you live together, but I’ve given it my best shot.

And now here we are, publicly thrust together, about to be closer than we have since that night at the bar.

Because what Ron didn’t say, but Felix and I know, is that this scene doesn’t end with Julia walking to Holden.

It ends when they kiss.

Felix

My mother’s prayers must’ve been answered.

‘All right people, places!’ Ron shouts, waving people back behind the floor lines the crew taped up earlier.

Because I’m sure she’s spent the last few days since meeting Anne praying to whomever the saint of matchmaking is for them to intervene between Anne and me. She said so in no uncertain terms before she hung up the other night.

And while all week Anne’s done her best to limit her interactions with me, and thus thwart my mother’s not-so-secret plans, it seems today the patron saints finally pulled through.

Not that I want them to.

I pull at my collar, tight in the humid room.

It’s just that Anne’s awkward, near-silent treatment is getting a little old.

I mean, she sends me thank you notes whenever I call the chauffeur service and leave the car for her to take to work whenever our schedules don’t align. And she still sketches when I cook and eats with me when I’m home, though that hasn’t been often since filming started.

But it’s obvious that she’s still embarrassed from dropping her towel in front of my mother, even though I told her she didn’t need to be. However, it probably hadn’t helped that I was laughing at the time.

Anne’s eyes narrow and I realize I’m chuckling even now as I remember her peach-shaped ass peeking out from under the bottom of her bath towel as she crawled across the living area and down the hall.

But at least she’s looking at me.

‘Walk when you hear “action”,’ Ron instructs.

If possible, Anne stiffens further, and a flash of sympathy hits me. She really doesn’t like being center stage.

‘Action.’

She doesn’t even get halfway across the ten feet between us when Ron shouts, ‘Cut,’ stopping her robotic movements.

Before Ron can yell further, David slides an arm around her shoulders, corralling her back to the starting point. He whispers something in her ear that has her looking sharply at him. But then she nods, kicks off her sandals and turns on her mark to face me.

‘She’s got it now,’ David tells Ron.

Ron’s expression remains skeptical, but he motions the crew to be quiet.

And in the few seconds it takes for the crew to focus all their attention on Anne, and before Ron even yells ‘action’, something happens.

Anne rolls her shoulders back, lifts onto her toes as if wearing heels, and cocks her hip to the side. She appears taller, confident, and quite frankly, every inch the leading lady .

‘Action.’

It’s my turn to stiffen – everywhere – as Anne saunters, not walks, toward me, hips swaying, ponytail swinging, stopping a mere breath away.

She grabs the front of my shirt with both hands twisting into the fabric, tugging me closer until my chest presses against hers, until her breath caresses my lips.

‘Hey, cowboy.’ Her husky whisper echoes in the large space, the line spoken with a sultry sexiness that nearly makes me forget my reply.

‘Hey there, space cadet.’ My voice lower than it needs to be for filming.

But just when Ron is about to yell cut, to go over the stand-in spacing to ensure the camera angles are set for filming, Anne presses her lips to mine.

I should stop her. Tell her what she doesn’t seem to know. That blocking is just for going through the motions, not acting out the entire scene.

I don’t. Instead, I do just what romance novelist Audrey Cole thinks any hot-blooded cowboy would do with a spitfire astronaut in their arms – I kiss her back.

But it isn’t a Hollywood kiss, and this isn’t an astronaut in my arms. It’s Anne, the woman who didn’t hesitate to knee me in the nuts but took the time to ensure I’m not triggered by her brother’s ugly-ass cat. Anne, who can’t cook but who went out of her way to disguise me so I’d be safe selecting my own fresh produce. Anne, who could not be less impressed by my celebrity but who nearly imploded from embarrassment when she accidentally exposed herself my mother.

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her flush against me, her arms releasing their hold on my shirt to slide up into my hair. And when I lap my tongue against hers, her nails drag against my scalp.

Someone yells cut. Someone else whistles. Another person catcalls.

Neither one of us pulls back, our breath melding together along with our lips.

I’m not thinking about the crew, my public image, or how being so lost to reason will only stir the shitstorm surrounding my life. I’m thinking about Anne and how good she feels in my arms. How I never want to stop kissing her. Having her. Being with her.

In fact, I’m not sure we ever would’ve stopped kissing.

If it wasn’t for the blood-curdling scream.