Famous in Love (13 page)

“I should stop keeping you up so late,” Rainer says, and my face immediately heats up with memories of last night. Us on my lanai. Me in his lap.

“I was in editing,” I tell him.

“Editing?” He’s looking in the mirror, adjusting some hair. “Why?”

“Wyatt wanted me to. Plus, it’s interesting. Being a part of the process.… Acting isn’t a vacuum,” I say lamely.

Rainer looks amused. “I trust you,” he says.

“I just like knowing more,” I say.

“Cool.”

I slump into the chair next to him. He reaches out and grazes my knee with his hand. “Hey,” he says.

I lean my leg into his fingertips. He bends down for a kiss, but I turn away, smiling apologetically at Lillianna.

“I’ve seen worse, hon,” she says. She pats the top of my head with her palm. “You make a darling couple.”

“We do, don’t we?” Rainer says. He lets go of my knee and hops down from his chair. “I’ll go keep Wyatt off your back. See you down there?” He leans in again, but this time I let him get my lips. “Later, gorgeous,” he whispers.

Rainer is called back
to L.A. the following week to do press for a movie he filmed last year. It sucks. I don’t want him to go, and he doesn’t want to go, either. But regardless, later tonight he’ll be on a plane headed east. He’ll be gone for eight days. They are going to L.A. and then New York and then London before flying all the way back here. “I wish you were coming with me,” he says. “It’s a rush. All those people. All that energy. I can’t wait for you to experience it. It’s like getting the biggest hug in the world.”

“Soon enough,” I say. We’re standing in the lobby of the condos, waiting for his car to come around.

“What are you going to do this week?” Rainer asks. His tone is casual, but I know what he means. He wants
to know about Jordan. Rainer would never admit it, but I can tell it bothers him that I’ve been going to see Gillian and that Jordan is usually there. Jordan always looks at the dailies.

“You don’t have to worry,” I say. I lift my hand to touch his shoulder.

“I know,” he says.

“Hey.” I tilt his face down. “We’re all stuck in this hotel together. I’m just trying to be friendly, that’s all.”

“And you should,” he says. Something passes across his face, but it’s gone in a flash. “You should be friendly. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I’m just jealous of anyone who gets to spend time with you when I don’t.”

“Jealous?”

Rainer loops his hands around my waist. “Surprised?” he asks.

“Maybe.”

He shakes his head. “Paige Townsen, you still don’t get it.”

“What?”

“I like you. A lot.” Then he yells out, “Hey, everyone, I like Paige!”

I shake my head and feel his lips in my hair. “Stop,” I say. “You’re embarrassing me.” But inside, my chest is soaring.

His car pulls up just as I see Jordan round the corner into the lobby. He pauses, leaning against a pillar. I can feel his eyes on us. Rainer notices, too. I feel his jaw clench. I untangle us but keep a hand on his arm. “Have a good trip,” I say.

Jordan peels himself off the wall. “Where are you off to?” he asks. He keeps his tone level but lets his eyes drift over my hand on Rainer’s shoulder.

“Press,” Rainer says through his teeth. I feel his body tense up beneath my fingertips.

Jordan nods. I half expect him to say something like “I guess you’re stuck with me, then,” but he doesn’t. Instead he says: “I’m going to visit Gillian. Come down after if you want.”

I look at Rainer. He hands his bag to the driver. “Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”

Jordan leaves, and then Rainer’s kissing me again, his hands in my hair. The driver next to us clears his throat.

“Mr. Devon,” he says. “We need to leave now, sir.”

Rainer nods. He presses his forehead to mine. “Be good,” he says. “Stay safe.” I lean into him. I wrap my arms around his neck. He’s home here. But the driver is standing five feet away, and I pull back.

“I will,” I say. “Hurry back.”

“Always.” He kisses my nose. I laugh as he ducks into the waiting town car. And then he’s gone.

After I watch his car pull away, I head down to the editing rooms. When I get there, Jordan is seated at Gillian’s desk. He swivels around as I come in.

“Hey,” he says. “Rainer get off okay?”

I try to read his face, but it’s blank. “Come on,” I say. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he asks. His features are still impossible to read.

“Pretend that you care.”

Jordan shrugs and holds out a chair for me. “Here,” he says.

I sit and then glance back at the door. “Where is Gillian?”

“She’s not coming,” Jordan says, beginning to flip through footage.

“But you just—”

He turns to look at me. His eyes are dark. Stormy. “I know what I said. I thought your boyfriend might like it better if we had a chaperone.”

“But we
don’t
have a chaperone.”

He keeps looking at me. It makes my chest feel tight, my breath come short. “Do we need one?”

I tear my gaze away from him and look back at the screen. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, like that’s some kind of explanation. But it’s low. Barely above a whisper. It’s true we haven’t had any kind of official talk yet, but
it’s almost irrelevant here, in this context. And Jordan knows it, too.

“You can call him whatever you want,” he says. “It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

Something inside my stomach sinks, but I try not to notice. I try, instead, to focus on the pictures on-screen. We’re looking at a scene Rainer and I filmed last week. Some stuff on the beach and the scenes we filmed with actors who came out for a few days to shoot the islander portions.

“Can you show me how this works?” I ask.

Jordan turns to me. His eyes flit briefly over my face. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”

He stands up to give me his seat. Then he leans over me and puts his hands on the controls. “This is how you get to the next shot,” he says. His breath comes in my ear. I feel his body behind mine, warm, like he’s emitting heat. “This is how you split the screen.” He clears his throat. “I only know the basic stuff.” His voice is so close I can feel his words landing on my neck.

“Thanks,” I say.

He sits down next to me, and I feel the air leave my body in a rush. “You should just come in here and play around,” he says.

“Is Gillian okay with that?”

His piercing black eyes look into mine. “If you’re with me.” I look away, but I can feel his gaze still on me. “Listen, I’ve been wanting to tell you—”

I swallow. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot.”

I shake my head. “You saved my life,” I say. “I think all is forgiven.”

“Good point.” He swivels his chair to face mine. He’s serious all of a sudden. Brow knit. “But that Rainer stuff. It’s not your problem.”

“I know,” I say. I turn to face him, too. Our knees are inches apart. “But it feels like it is.”

Jordan shakes his head. Then he looks up at me. His face is steady, calm. “You’re his girl,” he says.

My throat constricts. I can feel the inches between us like the air is on fire. “It’s not…” But I don’t know what to say. He’s right. I am.

“It’s true,” he says. He’s still looking at me. “But it doesn’t mean I have to feel about you the way I feel about him.”

We look at each other, and I swear the silence passes between us like water. It has depth, weight. I can feel it flow from my chest to his.

Jordan tears his eyes away first. “We should get out of here,” he says. “Our call time tomorrow is five
AM
.”

I exhale. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for hours. “I guess no time for morning ocean, then. Too bad.”

He looks at me. He leans forward. “There is always time,” he says. “If you want it.”

“You’d wake up at three
AM
to surf?”

He turns back to the controls, his cool demeanor back on. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The next morning it’s just Jordan and me on set. We haven’t filmed anything just the two of us yet, and being around him still puts me on edge. But I’m also a better actress around him. Better (although I would never admit this out loud) than I am with Rainer. It’s like his presence next to me challenges me to try more, work harder. To play at his level.

We’re filming on the beach today. It’s the scene where Ed arrives on the island and August sees him for the first time. And they kiss.

“This is someone you really care about,” Wyatt tells me. “You love Noah. But you also love Ed. And you’ve missed him.” Wyatt is wearing black jeans and a plain gray T-shirt. There is no band logo to be found on it, and I’m not sure how to take this. I’m not the only one who is different around Jordan. Wyatt is different, too. He’s not less intense, exactly, but he screams less. Or it could be
that I’m better, so there isn’t so much need to correct. I’m not sure.

August is supposed to run into Ed’s arms, and he scoops her up. They kiss, but just briefly. The kiss isn’t as significant as the one with Noah in the hut we filmed a few weeks ago. It’s softer, too. Not as charged.

“It’s not as passionate as what she has with Noah,” Wyatt tells us. “It’s familiar.”

Familiar. Right. Me and Jordan kissing. Totally an average day.

Jordan actually smiles at me when he gets to set. “Hey, Paige,” he says. “Morning.” His casual tone, his easy demeanor, take me by surprise. He’s a different person. He jokes with Camden, slaps a call sheet playfully out of Jessica’s hands. Is this all because Rainer isn’t here?

“Let’s go, guys,” Wyatt says. “Run it a few times.”

Wyatt sets us up. Jordan has to lift me, and we’ll kiss in the air. It’s a reunion kiss. “It’s sweet,” Wyatt keeps saying. “But for August, it’s also sad. She’s letting go of Noah here.”

Usually Rainer whispers to me when we’re filming. Between takes he’ll make jokes, try to get me to laugh, that sort of thing. But not Jordan. From the moment Jordan walks in front of the camera, he is Ed. And today is no exception.

Jordan doesn’t hesitate; he lifts me up easily. He wraps his arms around my waist and gathers me to his chest. I can feel his heart beat. I expect it to be like his eyes—solid and steady—but it’s not, it’s erratic. It’s thumping like mine, like it wants to get closer to something. The sound, the feeling, makes everything else dissolve. Even when the camera comes, close up on my face, I barely even notice it’s there. I feel last night between us. This burgeoning familiarity and something else, too. Something I can’t even admit to myself in the privacy of my own head.

Jordan sets me down, and then, without warning or direction, he pulls me into him. His lips are like the silk ribbons tied around presents, and he kisses me so gently I can barely feel the weight of them. The impact makes me lean forward, wanting him closer. He follows my lead.

My hands start moving on their own. First up to grip his shoulders, then to his neck and finally threading through his hair. I don’t even hear Wyatt call cut. I don’t hear anything but the crash of the waves behind us, and his ragged breathing, the same as mine.

When he pulls back, he keeps me pressed up against his chest. I feel his lips brush over my forehead.

Wyatt is standing next to us, a look of bewildered fascination on his face. “That was good, but let’s try a shorter take this time, okay?”

Jordan hasn’t let me go, and when I look at him I see
his eyes fixed on mine. Something in them has softened again, like a pond thawing in spring, and for a second I can almost feel myself falling inside.

Jordan lets his arms slacken slightly as Wyatt returns to Camden. I hear Camden say, “Are you sure it’s not those two together?” I know I should correct him. I should untangle myself from Jordan and explain that, nope, no feelings! Just really good acting! I’m with Rainer! But I can’t, because when Jordan releases me a moment later, I’m completely tongue-tied.

“Let’s go again,” Wyatt says.

I clear my throat. “Nice work,” I say to Jordan, which is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you can say to a guy who’s just had his tongue in your mouth. Even if it was acting.

Not surprisingly, he doesn’t respond.

We film again. And again. And again. Every time his lips touch mine, I feel like I’m moving closer to something significant, something I’ve been trying to get to the entire time I’ve been on this island, and possibly long before that. It’s like kissing him explains it all. Why I’m here, why I got this part. That maybe everything that has happened in the last six months has been to get to this moment.

I remember something that Wyatt said to me when we were filming the Noah kiss scene. Something he referenced when trying to get me to understand what was
going on in August’s mind. “She finally understands what it means to fall into someone,” he had said. “That part of loving someone where you’re totally consumed by them.”

We have off the next day, and it’s pouring. We can’t make it rain with sticks and potions and African dances, but the second we stop filming, the heavens open up.

I spend the morning in my condo, looking over the stacks and stacks of magazines that keep arriving in the mail from the various subscriptions I thought it would be a good idea to order. Then I try to organize my DVD collection, refold the clothes in my drawers. I’m determined not to have to go outside. The rain doesn’t scare me so much as who might be out in it. I’m avoiding Jordan. Not because I don’t want to see him—every single fiber of my being wants to sprint down the hall and find him—but I don’t know what I would say. Or do.

Not that it matters. There’s Rainer. Rainer, who is sweet and sexy and wonderful and who actually for some totally insane reason wants to be with me. And besides all that, Jordan probably has chemistry with a doorknob. It was acting, obviously, but I can’t stop thinking about being that close to him. Is this why actors are constantly breaking up and cheating on each other? Is it this intimacy?
Is
this intimacy? I can’t wrap my head around the possibility that Jordan didn’t feel it, too, but maybe
after you do this for a long time you learn to separate it out. Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe it’s really just playing pretend.

I wish Rainer were here. I’m sure this is all happening because he is gone. If he were here, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I wouldn’t be feeling like I wanted to see Jordan. I wouldn’t have to put myself on house arrest.

By two or so I’m going stir-crazy and the only thing left in my fridge is a bottle of mustard and a jar of pickles. I asked them to stop the magical food deliveries. I felt bad that so much of it went to waste, but now I wish I hadn’t. Unfortunately the time has come to leave the premises. I brace myself against the elements with rubber flip-flops and a rain jacket. Then I pull the door open and head downstairs.

I wolf down a sandwich from the shops and then zip up my raincoat, the heavy-duty Oregon one I brought out here on a whim. It’s pretty dry inside, and I decide instead of going back upstairs I’ll take my chances and walk the beach. I need to clear my head, and if I haven’t seen him in the lobby or at the shops, Jordan’s probably in his room.

It’s nice to have sunshine, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about the rain that makes me feel at home. It’s the smell. Even here, where the salt water threads its way into almost everything, it still smells the
same. Like cool moss or strong pine or the heady, calming scent of lavender. The clouds roll in, my nervous system relaxes, and things feel quieter, less intense. Like the world softens.