Fall: A Seaside Novel (The Seaside Series) (12 page)

The credits rolled.

Jaymeson stared at the TV for a few seconds before turning toward me. “That was some scary shit.”

“Really?” I tilted my head. “I wouldn’t know. I was having way too much fun watching Mr. Crazy.”

He grinned. “Great, my nickname’s Mr. Crazy now?”

I gave him a solemn nod.

He reached for some more popcorn and leaned back into the couch. “I can’t help it. I always talk when I watch movies. It’s a curse.”

“I love it,” I said without thinking.

The look he gave me made me blush, his eyes dilated slightly as a smile spread across his gorgeous face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin against them. “I can tell you get really into movies. It’s cool that you can make movies and still watch them like you don’t know they’re fake.”

He chuckled. “I may know they’re fake, but I still hate scary movies. I was asked to do one last year and backed out at the last minute.”

“Pansy.”

“Shut it.” He threw a pillow at me. I ducked. “It was a movie about being possessed. Not really my cup of tea, love.”

I nodded. “What about now? What’s your next project?”

He hesitated then looked away. “I’m up for a part in that new book series getting made into a movie.”

“Have I read it?”

He snorted, “Probably.”

“Which one is it?”

“The Innocent Love Series.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, you can laugh, I know it’s not a typical part for me to want.” He fidgeted with his hands and popped his knuckles, like he was nervous or something.

“Hey.” I threw the pillow softly back. “You’re an actor, you can do it, right?”

“Right.” He cleared his throat.

“Is that why you’re here?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“Jaymeson?”

“Vacation.” He licked his lips. “Away from the Hollywood scene, and then hopefully they give me the movie.”

“So, you’ll be here for a few weeks and then leave?”

“That’s the plan.” His voice cracked.

“Well,” I said, putting the popcorn bowl onto the table. “I hope you get it. I think it would be really good for you to do something other than action movies.”

His head snapped up. “You do?”

“Of course.” I folded my arms around my knees. “Girls will love it, and if you can pull of the main character angst then you’ll be even more famous than you are now.” I tried to keep my voice light. The night had been so fun that I hadn’t thought about the fact that he’d be leaving soon. I would be alone again.

But I still had Smith.

And Jamie.

“Maybe.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t really care about the fame though, honest. I just want to do something different. I don’t want to be the type of guy that does a ton of huge blockbuster hits but can never get out of that type casting, you know?”

“You won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you’re Jamie Jaymeson,” I teased. “You can do anything, right?”

His face lit up, he reached across the couch and grabbed my hand. “Thanks, Pris. Sorry to be so depressing.”

I squeezed his hand back. “No problem.”

A loud crash sounded outside the condo.

I shrieked, Jaymeson cursed about the condo being haunted.

“What was that?” I whispered.

“Ghosts,” he answered seriously. “Punishing us for watching Harrison Ford.”

“Be serious!” I released his hand with a jerk and got up to my feet.

He pulled me back down to the couch. “No, let me check it out.”

“What are you going to do? Swear at the ghost?”

“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the sliding glass door. Carefully, he slid it open and poked his head outside. “Hmm, I don’t see anything that would—” He slammed the doors shut, locked them, and pulled the blinds.

“Ghosts?” I offered.

“Worse.” He gave a shudder. “Huge storm. The water’s going crazy out there and one of the neighbors’ potted plants fell off the ledge and took a swim in the Pacific.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I hate storms,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Just like scary movies?” I yawned.

“Yeah.” Jaymeson smiled tightly. “It’s late. I guess I should be going since we have all those crazy boxes to pack tomorrow.”

He walked slowly to the door then turned. “Breakfast?”

“Are you asking if I’m eating breakfast or are you offering to cook me breakfast?”

Jaymeson shoved his hands into his front pockets, at times he seemed so unsure, like I was going to snap at him or something. “I was kind of offering.”

“Then, yes.” I smiled. “Breakfast.” I ignored the pitter-patter of my heart at his bright hopeful smile. I was not falling for him. Not at all. He was a player. He was a freaking movie star, and last time I fell for that smile I ended up rejected and totally humiliated.

“Great.” His accent was always more pronounced at night as if he was too exhausted to remember to say his words differently, I kind of loved it. I loved how he said his R’s. I loved how his mouth formed around words differently than mine did.

I needed to stop staring at his mouth. That much was clear.

“Night, Pris.” He opened the door and left.

With a sigh I got off the couch and cleaned up, putting the bowl into the dishwasher and wiping the counter tops. I needed to get some food if I was going to be staying there for the next week or so.

I checked my phone.

Two missed calls.

Both from my dad.

He was probably freaking out, but my parents and I had always had one of those relationships. We loved each other, but we were distant. Not in a bad way, just in a way that they knew I was an adult and they trusted me.

I sent him a quick text.

Me:
I’m fine, will call in the morning, kinda sleepy. All is well
—
btw does the house still have insurance? What do you need me to do while you guys are with
Dani?

He texted back right away.

Papa Bear:
Okay sweetie, Stella told us you were okay, just wanted to hear your voice. Stay safe at the rock star’s house and try not to break anything. Kidding. We’ll discuss the insurance later. I’m…
I’m hoping everything will be fine. It always is, right?

Me:
Right…

Papa Bear:
Are you scared?

Me:
?

Papa Bear:
Being alone.
Want me to send someone over? I hate that you’re by yourself.
You always cried when it was too dark.

Laughing, I texted him back.

Me:
I’ll just keep my phone close, if I panic I’ll call you and you can chase the darkness away.

Papa Bear:
I’ll always chase the darkness away.

Me:
I know.

Papa Bear:
It will be fine. Always is. Get some rest. Love you,
sweetie.

Dad, optimistic to a fault. That’s why everyone loved him. If it was raining, he’d say to be thankful we weren’t in a drought. If it was snowing, he’d say be thankful that the cold weather is killing all the spiders.

I turned off the lights to the living room and was about ready to go into the bedroom — the one Jaymeson had convinced me to sleep in — when I heard a knock on the door.

Other than Jaymeson, who even knew I was there?

I looked through the peephole to see a drenched Jaymeson waiting for me on the other side.

With a jolt I pulled the door open and jerked him inside. “You’re going to get sick standing in the rain. What’s wrong?”

He crossed his arms over his muscled chest. My mouth went dry. His shirt clung to him like a second skin, I didn’t mean to, but I started checking him out. Who wouldn’t? His body was tightly muscled, as if he hadn’t eaten a cookie a day in his life. Every ridge of his impressive stomach was thickly corded. I hadn’t realized how cut he was. I mean, I always thought it was movie magic.

Magic? Yes. The movies? No.

“I, erm…” He rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m scared shitless.”

“Of the rain?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And the movie, and the thunder.”

“Have you always been afraid of storms?”

“What, are you a profiler?” he snapped, an angry tone to his voice.

“Whoa!” I held up my hands. “I was just curious — stop attacking me.”

“Sorry,” he grumbled, bits of water rolling off his chiseled face and onto the floor.

“You can stay here.”

“Really?” A smile returned to his face.

“Guest room, and I’m locking my door so don’t get any ideas.”

“We’re friends,” he said simply. “I can control myself around friends.”

Well, at least one of us could. I hated that his comment made me sting. Even though I was the idiot that put us in that zone in the first place, I still wanted him to want me… as ridiculous as that sounded.

“Cool.” I pointed back to my room. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Alright.” He started walking in the opposite direction whispering, “Goodnight, love.”

“Night.”

Chapter Nineteen

Jaymeson

I stared up at the ceiling and swore. No way did that girl see me as a man right now, especially considering I’d been too scared to go back to my own lonely house.

The movie hadn’t freaked me out as much as the storm.

I freaking hated storms.

They reminded me of my childhood, of being alone while my dad was filming. They’d left me with a housekeeper, but she was so old and cranky that she offered no help whatsoever.

I’d missed Nanna so much that night — it felt like someone had stabbed me over and over again.

One night during a storm, a tree branch crashed into my bedroom window.

The housekeeper didn’t even come.

Neither did my dad. I even called him. He told me to tell the housekeeper and go back to sleep.

But her bedroom door had been locked, so I‘d lain under my bed, with rain pouring through the window, hugging the toy truck my dad had given me when I was really little, and praying that the storm would end.

That was the day I had realized nobody would come for me — that in the end it was me against the world and that was it. Girls always joke about wanting to be rescued, needing saving, but what about guys? What about little boys who grow up parentless? Sure I had money, but money’s a cold bitch at night when you’re scared of your own shadow.

I hated what that money did to my parents, to their relationship. It made me sick inside whenever I thought about it. Maybe that was why I pushed people away — eventually they would leave me just like my dad did, just like my housekeeper. I mean, she was freaking paid to love me and she still didn’t care.

I punched the pillow with my hand and grabbed my cell. Pris hadn’t messaged Jamie Hudson that night, I wondered if I should be worried. I mean, technically she was with him because I was him, but still.

Wow, tangled web.

Me:
Hope you are having a goodnight.

She responded right away.

Priscilla S:
Kinda freaked after watching a scary movie, but yeah, I’m good.

Me:
Please tell me that tool who took you on a date wasn’t watching the movie with you.

Priscilla S:
Um, no…
not him.

I smirked, wondering if she would ‘fess up.

Me:
So you were alone?

Priscilla S:
Not really.

Me:
?

Priscilla S:
Jaymeson was here.

That was it. No explanation, nothing, just Jaymeson was here. Like I didn’t freaking matter.

Me:
Jamie Jaymeson? Him? The one you refuse to discuss with me? How is the movie star?

Priscilla S:
He’s good…
we had fun. Well,
until the scary movie got too scary for both of us.

Me:
Why’s he in Seaside?

Priscilla S:
Vacation.

Me:
Are you okay hanging out with him? I mean,
I don’t know what went down, but last time we talked about him you,
seemed pretty upset…

Priscilla S:
He apologized. That’s enough for me.

Me:
Really? Seriously? He apologized and boom, he’s forgiven?

Priscilla S:
Nobody’s perfect, and I always trust the first apology, it’s the second that I’m leery of.

Me:
The second?

Priscilla S:
First apologies make sense. Someone says their sorry and they promise not to repeat the behavior. If they do the same thing over again, then I know the first apology didn’t mean anything. The second apology is worse, because it tells me that they’re really great with words, but suck at action. So yeah, I’m good with his apology as long as he keeps his promise not to screw around with me.

Shit. I suddenly felt like I was going to have a panic attack. Because that was exactly what I was doing. I was screwing around with her. I mean, I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I was just so desperate to make sure she was okay. The lights flickered as if the man upstairs was warning me not to mess with the innocent girl. And then thunder crashed nearly sending me sailing to the floor in terror.

Me:
I think that’s a good philosophy. I’m glad you forgave him.

Priscilla S:
Well,
he’s hard to stay mad at
—
it’s the accent.

Me:
Ahhh and the world makes sense.
You’re a sucker for accents.