by Piper Rayne
6
Sophie
We end up at a restaurant around the block that serves pizza, salad, and sandwiches. Which I’m more than fine with.
Jen doesn’t join us, but on our way out Olive clearly saw me leave with Trent. Great.
After the waiter comes by and takes our drink order, Trent unwraps his silverware, dropping the napkin on his lap. He catches me smiling mid movement and I pick up my water glass to disguise my humor.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s the way you’re going to play it?” He picks up his water glass, although he ordered a coke too.
“It’s just weird. I had one assumption of you and now you’re the total opposite. I can’t turn it off in my brain.”
He leans forward. “I’m the man you were with last night. Please don’t think I’m some celebrity.” He looks around. “I surf. I’m a surfer.”
“Okay, you’re just a surfer huh?”
He nods, sipping his water.
“So last night when you said you live on the beach, what does that mean because I took it to mean a hut or a tent on the beach. Like a figure of speech. Now I think I must’ve been wrong.”
He chuckles. “A long ago time ago it was a figure of speech, but now I live in Hawaii actually.”
I choke my ice cube. “You live in Hawaii?”
He nods. “I have a place in Santa Cruz too, but I prefer Hawaii.”
“Yeah me too. I mean I have a house in New Zealand, and one in the Alps. Maybe you can stay sometime.”
“Where at? I’ve got a small place there too.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs, although he’s probably serious about the house thing.
“Just treat me like that guy from last night. Forget the money that goes along with my job. It’s not who I am. I’m literally a surf bum who loves the smell of salt water and the feel of sand under his feet. I’m just good and I get paid for it.”
He’s delusional if he thinks it’s an easy ask. “I’ll try.”
“Let’s talk about you. So you’re press, huh? Where do you write?”
“I write for a small magazine, What’s Up LA.”
The waiter brings our drinks and I smile watching him circle the straw wrapper around his fingers like he’s nervous. “Jen wanted you to sign an NDA,” he admits.
“A non-disclosure agreement?”
“Yeah. But I told her I trusted you.” His gaze is steady on me like he’s silently asking for my confirmation.
“Good thing for you I do have journalistic integrity.”
“Good.” He nods.
“So, who’s Jen?” Since we’re laying it all on the line I might as well ask.
“My assistant and my sister. She doesn’t always come with me to these things, but my dad was my manager for years. And after my last stunt they think I need to have a chaperone.”
“Do I dare ask?” I wipe the condensation off my water glass with my index finger while I wait for him to answer.
He looks to the window and back to me. “I got drunk, had some public indecency and punched a member of the paparazzi. It was eight months ago, but it’s hard to live down when there’s video and pictures that resurface any time the celebrity news circuit gets slow.”
I sink back in my chair. “I have to say. I’m disappointed in myself that I didn’t know any of this and I’m in the field.”
“Maybe it means it wasn’t as big of a deal as everyone in my circle is making it. Jen is probably outside spying on us right now. Or doing a background check on you.”
“Would she?”
He throws his hands up in the air. “They don’t realize it was a wake-up call for me. I figured out on my own what went wrong.”
“And what went wrong?” I can’t help but ask. I want to know everything I can about this man.
He sips his drink and the waiter brings over his sandwich and my salad. I think Trent is going to take the opportunity to change the subject, but he continues instead. “My high school girlfriend got married.”
“Oh.” I keep my eyes on my salad. There’s nothing to be jealous of, so why does the blood in my veins feel like it’s gushing harder, gearing up for a competition?
“I thought she was the one. I left after high school to go on the circuit and I always thought I’d come back some day and we’d pick up where we left off, but she moved on. Deservingly so. I’m sure she did better than my sorry ass.”
I glance up as I continue pouring my salad dressing onto my salad. His gaze is on me like he’s been waiting for me to look up.
“I just fucked up this lunch, huh?”
“No.” Although I feel odd that eight months ago he lost his cool over a girl who ended up ruining his reputation. “It’s just lunch.”
“Is it?”
His question throws me for a second. “Isn’t it?”
A cocky grin tips one corner of his mouth. “I asked first.”
“Technically the rule is you don’t share stories about ex’s on a first date, so I assume this is just a lunch.”
He dips his fry in ketchup, chews and swallows. “If we’re being technical the story was more about my public crash and burn, not what caused it. I volunteered that information after you asked for more.”
Man, this guy is hard to read.
I shrug like I don’t care. I might as well let this guy know he’s got no worries with me. I like to keep things casual anyway. “It’s cool, I don’t do relationships.” I shrug.
He stops mid-bite. “You don’t do relationships?”
I shake my head since I’m chewing a fork full of lettuce.
“Do I dare ask?”
I shrug. “No reason. There’s no deep dark secret if that’s what you’re implying.”
He chuckles, wipes his mouth and leans back. His gaze steadies on mine for so long I fidget in my chair. “Okay, cut the bullshit.”
“What? I’m serious. I’m just one of those screwed up kids from divorce.”
He shakes his head some of the hair from behind his ear falling loose and resting against his cheek until he tucks it back again.
“Seriously. Both my parents couldn’t keep their hands off people who weren’t their spouse.”
He shakes his head again.
“What aren’t you believing?”
“That you don’t do relationships.”
“I don’t.”
He clears his throat, leaning over the table and lowering his voice. “I get that you don’t think you do but I think maybe you’ve never found someone worth trying one with. Until last night that is.”
My heart flips over in my chest. “What are you saying?”
“That you can bet that sweet ass of yours that this is more than just lunch.”
My cheeks flame and he leans back satisfied with my reaction to his words. Something tells me saying no won’t be as easy as it normally is.
7
Sophie
Trent holds my hand when we leave the restaurant, which feels bold. But then again, he held my hand last night when I thought he was just a surfer dude who’d be a one and done, so I’m probably overthinking this.
My phone vibrating in my bag causes me to unlink our hands, and he pauses on the street waiting for me to dig it out.
“What do you have in there? A body?”
“Hardy har.” The jokes about my purse are constant around my friends. But I like to be prepared whether it be with pain killer for a headache or tampons for an early period. So what if I have a plethora of gum and mints in there? Fresh breath is important.
I grab my phone to see that it’s Henry. Holding my finger up, I tell Trent, “My boss. Give me a minute.”
He pulls out his own phone and leans against the wall of the dry cleaners we’re standing in front of.
I step away. “Hey Henry,” I say.
“It’s funny, I figured that your picture this morning as a big middle finger in my direction was a good sign. I actually smil
ed. Then I hear from Olive that you’re attempting to seduce the guest host.”
What a witch.
“I’m not seducing him. If anything—”
“Yeah, I don’t want the details. Is he there with you right now? Olive said the two of you went to lunch.”
I glance over at Trent and he looks up like he knew I was staring at him. He smiles and my stomach flips over. “Not close.”
“End whatever the hell is going on. I took a risk giving you this opportunity. Don’t mess it up by getting the reputation that you’re sleeping your way to the top.”
“I don’t think lunch with a pro surfer would be considered sleeping my way to the top.”
Anger burns in my veins like acid. My head falls back and as my eyes come back down from the sky, I spot a billboard for Time Magazine and I’m reminded that my goals are bigger than this magazine. My degree deserves to be used for something great. But in order to get there I have to crawl up the rungs of the ladder. I can’t wait to step on Henry’s face when I step on him to reach the next rung.
“It’s mixing business with pleasure. Not to mention the guy’s got the reputation of a toilet in a crack house. Just do your job and get out.” His voice raises the longer our conversation goes on.
I could argue some more, especially as my gaze falls to Trent and he smiles once again. But then I watch as two guys on skateboards approach him. He shakes their hands and they look at him like they’re awestruck. He really is a celebrity whether he wants to be or not.
I have to say that little line at the restaurant piqued a ”what if” in my head. But am I really going to have a relationship, something I haven’t attempted in a long time, with a guy who travels all over the world in a bathing suit and has women wearing bikinis all over him? Hell, they probably run suntan lotion over his abs between waves.
“Don’t worry. I have it all under control. You won’t hear from Olive again.”
“I better not.”
The phone dies in my ear. Henry’s call is the reminder I need that I have a reputation of being a screwup too, and I need to keep the big picture in mind and do what’s best for my career.
Then I see another text on my phone from Jagger.
Jagger: Give lover boy from last night my card if he’s looking to get into movies.
Me: Go to hell.
I shove my phone back inside my purse and walk back to Trent where his group has gone from two boys to six.
“Hey, do you have a Sharpie?” Trent asks me, eyeing my purse.
“I don’t know, you make fun of my purse and now you want something.” I dig into my pen and marker pouch, pulling out three colors, Gold, silver and black. He chuckles and takes the black one.
“This your girl?” one guys asks.
Trent signs his T-shirt, chuckling and glances over to me when he finishes. “Yeah.”
Snap.
Someone takes a picture. Trent scowls and signs the other guy’s skateboard, shoves the marker in his back pocket, takes my hand and with a smile and a wave, we’re gone.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry,” he says, walking so fast I can barely keep up.
“It’s okay.”
“No. I didn’t see the phone out. I thought they were just cool fans, but that picture will be posted by the end of the day. I’ll have Jen on it as soon as we get back.”
I pull back on his arm and he stops, but instead of looking to me, his eyes are focused down the sidewalk. “It’s okay. I’m a big girl.”
He steps forward, again his eyes shifting, moving and never landing on me until the last second. “You don’t understand. They’ll seek you out. Find out where you live. Stalk you night and day hoping to catch me with you. They find out everything from your coffee order to how much you have in your bank account. It can get ugly.”
“Um… just because you said you were dating me? I’ll tell them you aren’t. That it was a joke.” This is all getting out of control. How did we go from one-night stand to paparazzi stalking me in less than twenty-four hours?
“It doesn’t matter. The damage was done in that one minute.”
I’m not sure what he wants from me, but Jen walks down the street and Trent flags her. They discuss what happened as we walk back into the studio. I follow like a loser and just as he’s about to go back to the judges area he turns to say something to me, but Olive comes around the corner at the same time, so I dip into the press room without a word.
8
Sophie
Ian’s eyes are zeroed in on me my entire walk from the door to the seat next to him.
I hold my hand up in the air when I sit down before he has a chance to ask me a question. “Not now.”
My phone vibrates and I ignore it because my life is spinning out of control and I need to ground myself before continuing the day. My head falls into my hands and I glance over at a concerned Ian. “Tell me that’s the last break?”
He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Nope. One more but it’s short. Another hour or so I think.”
I nod. “I need out of this place like now.”
“Your phone is going off again.”
“I know.” I close my eyes and sigh.
“You sure you’re okay?” His hand falls to my back and he runs it up and down. “Is this about your coffee date earlier?”
“Are you dating Calder?” The woman from earlier asks.
Ian’s mouth drops open.
“If she was dating him, why would she be in here?” her friend says. “He was totally eye fucking you earlier in the hall.”
I roll my eyes. These two women are exactly who I’d have to deal with on a continued basis if I agree to date Trent. And that’s not something my psyche is able to handle.
“I saw you leaving with him,” the woman says.
“You knew he was looking at Beth,” the woman’s friend says sounding like she’s ready to crack her knuckles so we can get in a hair pulling fight. What the hell?
Either I out us for having a one-night stand or I ignore them. But they have yet to turn back around to face the set. I close my eyes wishing the show would start. Someone must be on my side because Olive peeks her head into the room, her eyes glued to mine, saying they’re about to start and there are no bathroom breaks until this is over.
“She hates me. I’m never being asked back,” I whisper to Ian.
“Oh please. She’s always a bitch.”
That puts a small smile on my face.
The judges come out and Trent again looks to the mirror and that feeling from last night resurrects inside me. God, I like him. I really like him. He thinks his stunt from eight months ago would deter me but if anything I feel like we have something in common. But then he was so freaked out by one picture.
He says he wants a relationship with me, but we barely know anything about one another.
My mind is spinning, and I really need Teegan to help make sense of this right now.
The judges go to each station to check out each contestant’s creations. They taste each one and I’m amazed at how Trent just flips the switch into being the funny guy. If I’m being honest that might scare me the most. He’s not an actor, he wasn’t trained to put on a mask and be someone else. But it seems like he’s good at it.
By the time they call the next segment for the poor bakers to prepare their last and final treat, I’ve broken out in a sweat and I’m nauseated. When I go to the bathroom, I have company again. Sara is in the stall next to me, throwing up.
“I swear this will be my only child. I don’t think I could handle this again.”
“I’m sorry, it must suck to have to put on a smile and eat those gingerbread cookies.”
“They’re good when I eat them but the molasses coming back up isn’t so great.” She comes out of the bathroom stall and I pass her some white paper towels. “Thanks for this. If it wasn’t for you today, I’m not sure I’d make it through.” She laughs. “I’m not a gossiper but I saw you wit
h Calder. Are you two an item?” Again her eyes fall to my press lanyard.
“No. Yes. I have no idea to tell you the truth.”
She finger combs her cute strawberry blonde bob. “Distract me then.” She props up on the counter and I lean against the wall.
I don’t even know her. I can’t just give her information about Trent without his permission.
She must recognize my trepidation because she shakes her head. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just feel like you’re struggling as much as I am today.” She chuckles.
“No it’s just… I mean, you’re not going to tell anyone right?”
She laughs. “No one in my circle much cares about Calder except for drooling over his pictures.”
“I met him last night without knowing who he was. I only found that out when I got here. My boss is on my ass and I think he’s looking for a reason to fire me. Then Trent…” her eyes narrow. “Calder asked me to lunch. And he’s kind of implying like he’d like us to date. But I mean he’s him and I’m me and I don’t do relationships. I don’t see how it could ever work.”
She laughs at me.
“What?”
“The whole ‘I don’t do’ relationships.” Her hair falls over her face.
“Both my parents cheated. I’m a product of divorce.” I shrug.
She nods. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be insensitive, but you know you can’t stay away from relationships forever?”
“Why not?”
“Because.” Her voice goes up an octave. “It’s not healthy. Eventually you’re going to meet someone you want more with.”
“It’s not healthy to be a crazed lunatic following her boyfriend around, convinced he’s cheating either. Believe me, for everyone involved, it’s better this way.”
