TAMING HOLLYWOOD’S BADDEST BOY

by Monroe, Max

  She moans, and it vibrates against my mouth. Her lips part, and she wraps her arms around my neck like a vise, holding me there while she kisses me back.

  It’s a rough kiss. Lips and tongues and teeth crashing against each other, but fuck, it feels good. She feels good. I feel like I’ve been waiting an eternity for this.

  I lift her up into my arms, and she wraps her legs around my waist.

  All the sexual tension that’s been building since she left Alaska explodes between us, and we keep kissing. And touching. And just…feeling each other.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” I say against her lips. “So much.”

  But my words don’t do what I want them to do.

  Instead of fueling our fire, they’re a bucket of water, dousing the flames.

  Her mouth turns hesitant and she pulls away until her lips are no longer touching mine.

  Then she does the very last thing I want her to do and disentangles herself from me.

  “Fuck, I’m such an idiot,” she mutters, more to herself than to me.

  “Billie?”

  “I can’t do this, Luca,” she whispers and can hardly look me in the eyes while she says it. “Sex might just be cavalier to you and you might not realize this, but sex with you meant something to me. You meant something to me. You broke my heart, Luca. And I just can’t let you do that to me again.”

  Her words are a knife, and they cut me right open.

  “Fuck, princess.” I reach out to place my hand on her cheek, but she pulls away, and my heart falls out of my fucking chest.

  “I know I was a real prick to you that day at my cabin. And I’m sorry about that. I’m so fucking sorry, Billie.” I run a rough hand through my hair. “I’m sorry for what I said and how things went down before you left Alaska.” The words rush past my lips. “I was just…scared. I was fucking scared. I was falling in love with you and you were leaving and the only place to follow you was the one place I said I’d never go back to. It was a mindfuck. But it’s no excuse. I was wrong. So wrong.”

  Tears fill her eyes.

  “I don’t want to break your heart, Billie. I want to protect it. I want to keep it. I want to make it mine.”

  She doesn’t respond. So, I really lay it out there.

  “Because my heart is already yours.”

  Those tears spill out of her eyes and down her cheeks. And before I know it, she’s kissing me again. Her lips crashing against mine and her tongue slipping past my lips.

  But there is something off about this kiss. It feels like it’s the only thing she wants in the whole entire world, but also, it’s the one thing she doesn’t want to give in to.

  It’s heaven and hell, and it doesn’t take long before she’s pulling away from me again.

  “I’m sorry, Luca,” she whispers and swipes at her cheeks. “I just need…space. I just need time. This is too much to process right now.”

  God, that fucking hurts.

  Giving her space is the last thing I want to do.

  But I’ve told her how I really feel.

  I’ve told her I want her…only her.

  I’ve told her I’m in love with her.

  I’m helpless in this. It’s truly out of my control, and the only thing I can do is give her the space she is requesting.

  I nod, and without another word, I lead Billie by the hand to the taxi stand and make sure she gets in a cab safely. I tell the driver where to take her, and I stand on the sidewalk and watch the lights of the yellow car drive in the opposite direction.

  Toward the hotel and away from me.

  Fuck.

  A part of me wishes I could just walk away from it all—from Hollywood, from her.

  But I know that’s an impossible task.

  I could never walk away from Billie.

  And I can’t stop trying.

  I need to make her realize that while I made a mistake in Alaska and was a total fucking prick, when it comes to her, I am all fucking in.

  But how in the fuck can I make her understand that?

  Feeling hopeless, I forgo walking back into the bar and just wander the streets of downtown Austin. But knowing paparazzi are in town and are hip to our filmmaking game, I make a pit stop in a little souvenir shop and buy a cheap pair of sunglasses and a ball cap that reads Texas across the front.

  It’s a shitty disguise, one that wouldn’t work in LA, but it’s dark outside, and Serena’s team did a good job of making sure tonight’s celebration location stayed secret.

  I walk through downtown Austin with no actual destination in sight.

  The weekend crowd is boisterous.

  Drunk people stumble out of bars.

  Couples walk hand in hand down the strip.

  A bachelorette party dances around with a blow-up doll on the sidewalk.

  Honestly, it’s a comical shitshow around me, but I just keep fucking walking, thinking about Billie.

  I wish I knew what was really going on inside that head of hers.

  I wish I knew all the right things to say to her to make her realize I really am in love with her and I would do anything when it comes to her.

  But I feel like I’ve said the words.

  Maybe she needs more than words, though…

  The thought makes me stop dead in my tracks.

  What else could I possibly do that’s more than words?

  Like fucking lightning, the idea strikes me. And I know, without a doubt, what I need to do.

  My cell phone out of my pocket, I dial the one man who might be able to help me.

  “Luca fucking Weaver!” Andrew exclaims into my ear. “You need to come to this party I’m at in the Hills! Right the fuck now!”

  “I can’t, bud.”

  “What? Why the fuck not?”

  A soft chuckle leaves my lips. “Because I’m not in LA. I’m in Austin.”

  “What the hell are you doing there?”

  “Shooting on location.”

  “Ah,” he responds. “That’s right, you’re actually working these days.”

  “Very funny,” I retort. “And before you derail this conversation any further, I have a favor to ask you.”

  “Hit me with it.”

  “Are you still friends with Harold Logan?”

  Harold Logan is a bigwig at a media conglomerate that specializes in the syndication of popular television shows.

  “Just talked to him a few weeks ago. Why? What’s going on?”

  “I’m hoping he can find something important for me.”

  “You getting all misty-eyed and want to watch reruns of Home Sweet Home?” he teases, and I can’t not laugh.

  “Just give me his number, you fuck.”

  “Anything for you, honey.”

  A minute later, I have Harold Logan’s number.

  And by six a.m. the next morning, I’m putting my new plan into action.

  Billie

  Apparently, I prefer the meat of my emotions well-done. Burned. Charred. Unrecognizable, even.

  I’ve spent the whole damn day locked in my hotel room, ignoring the outside world.

  Twelve hours of zero contact with anyone besides Ralph at the front desk and Kerry Ann from room service.

  No phone calls. No text messages. No emails. I’ve ignored everyone and everything. Hell, I didn’t even leave my room to buy candy from the vending machine. And trust me when I say this, the Reese’s Cups inside that damn thing have been calling my name for days now.

  Thankfully, I have a flight to West Virginia to get ready for, and showering and packing in between watching reruns of Parks and Rec has filled most of my time.

  Which, considering I’ve been up since five this morning, is pretty damn amazing.

  I didn’t mean to get up that freaking early, but I did. Memories of last night managed to sneak their way into my dreams, and once fantasy became reality, I went from blissfully unaware to painfully conscious.

  I kissed Luca.

  Or did Luca kiss me?

/>   I honestly don’t know who initiated, but I do know we were equally involved.

  In the middle of a dark alley, outside of El Camino, I lost myself in Luca’s kiss and his touch, and him. For one small moment, I forgot about the past. I forgot why I don’t trust him with my heart and why I don’t want to allow myself to open up to him again. I forgot about everything except for how he makes me feel.

  And I just…kissed him.

  It made me aware of how deeply my feelings go when it comes to him.

  I fell for him in Alaska, and even though I wish this weren’t the case, I’m still there.

  I’m still in love with him.

  That kiss was bliss, and it was terrifying.

  Eventually, though, the fear won out, and I had to go.

  If I let him back in, all the way in, will he just end up hurting me again?

  I wish I knew the answer to that.

  I wish I had some kind of guarantee that Luca will never break my heart.

  But life doesn’t come with guarantees. When you lose both of your parents at the age of nine, sadly, you come to understand that stark reality more than most.

  I know the baggage of my past makes it difficult for me to open up and trust people, especially in relationships. Throughout my twenty-four years of life, I’ve had all of three boyfriends, none of whom lasted more than a few months.

  Mostly, I just dated, taking comfort in the temporary without having to commit to the future.

  But with Luca, opening up and trusting was the easy part.

  It was the whole him breaking my heart thing anyway that was hard to deal with.

  Ron Swanson waxes poetic about his love for breakfast meats, and I shove the last pair of shoes into my suitcase and zip it up. It’s a little after five p.m., and my flight leaves at nine this evening.

  Once I toss on my boots and throw my hair up into a messy bun, I call Ralph and let him know I need a cab to the airport.

  “Of course, Billie. I’ll have one here in about fifteen minutes,” he obliges.

  Sheesh. Pretty sure when you’re on a first-name basis with hotel staff, you’ve probably spent a little too much time inside the fucking hotel.

  When I finally check my phone, I see a few texts and missed calls from Olivia and Callie.

  Apparently, since no one needs to leave for New York until late tomorrow, most of the cast and crew are going to meet for dinner and drinks downtown.

  Quickly, I shoot them a text and let them know my current status—heading to the airport for a flight to West Virginia. And thank them for the invitation.

  And then I grab my purse and suitcase and head for the door.

  Ralph greets me by name again at the front desk, helps me check out, and into the waiting cab.

  The ride to the airport is quick, and before I know it, I’m there, all checked in and through security, and my boarding zone number is on the screen.

  I give my ticket to the gate agent and walk down the jetway that leads to my plane.

  When I find my seat, I toss my carry-on in the overhead compartment and sit down, buckling myself in and staring out the window while the rest of the passengers file on to the plane.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to find Incoming Call Luca flashing across the screen.

  Like a dam breaks inside my brain, memories of last night filter into my mind again, and I just kind of stare down at the screen of my phone, unable to hit accept on the call.

  I still don’t know what I’m feeling.

  He kissed me. I kissed him.

  He told me he loves me.

  I told him I needed space.

  And he respected that, didn’t question it, and simply put me in a cab.

  Other than his text last night to make sure I made it back to the hotel safely, I haven’t heard from him at all today.

  Not while I was getting ready to leave.

  Not when I was in a taxi on my way to the airport.

  And not when I was waiting at the gate to board my plane.

  When the call goes to voice mail, my heart drops.

  Fuck. I probably should’ve answered.

  Even if I’m a mess of confusion and doubt, I should’ve at least given him that.

  But not even a minute later, a text comes through.

  Luca: I thought you’d be at dinner with the crew, but you’re not here. Are you okay?

  I type out a response and hit send.

  Me: I’m fine. I’m at the airport. I have somewhere else I need to go for a few days, but I’ll meet up with everyone in New York.

  Luca: I know you said you needed space from me, and I respect that, but I need you to know that I meant what I said last night, Billie. Everything I said.

  Tears fill my eyes, and I just stare down at his words.

  Luca: And I have something for you.

  A moment later, a video clip comes through.

  My finger hovers over it as my mind wars with itself, going back and forth on whether or not to watch it.

  I don’t know what it is, but it just feels like it’s something important.

  Something I have to watch.

  Quickly, I connect my earbuds to my phone, put them in my ears, tap the screen of my phone, and the video comes to life.

  The recording is grainy at best, but it’s clear enough that I can tell it’s some kind of TV show. Set in a diner, the chef behind the silver counter does something silly with his spatula, and a laugh track fills my ears.

  The camera cuts to a waitress in a white apron and a pink uniform.

  She pulls out a notepad and asks the customer what they want for lunch.

  And then my heart fucking jumps into my throat when I spot familiar green eyes and blond hair and a smile I can only see in my dreams now.

  My mother.

  Right there. In the video.

  “Whatever you do, don’t order the meatloaf.”

  Her voice is music to my ears.

  It makes my heart ache and my breath get all tangled up in my lungs.

  Tears stream down my cheeks, and I’m so distracted by replaying and replaying and replaying the video, it takes the flight attendant several tries to get my attention.

  “Miss, we’re about to take off,” she tells me after she gently taps my shoulder. “Please put your phone on airplane mode.”

  I nod.

  But then she walks down the aisle, telling the rest of the passengers the same thing.

  I watch the clip one more time.

  More tears fall down my cheeks.

  I’m happy and I’m sad and I’m just so fucking overwhelmed with what feels like every emotion possible.

  Birdie and I have spent our entire lives trying to find this video clip, and somehow, Luca found it.

  He remembered.

  My flight is only two hours, but it feels like it takes an eternity for the damn plane to land.

  And the whole time, my brain reeled.

  I thought about Momma and Daddy and Granny.

  I thought about the awful days when Birdie and I lost them.

  But mostly, I thought about Luca.

  What he did, tracking down that clip, I can’t even put into words how special that is for me. Kind. Thoughtful. Amazing. Every word I come up with doesn’t do him justice.

  This is…everything.

  The instant we land, I grab my luggage out of the overhead bin and exit the plane as quick as I can. And before I make my way to baggage claim, I sit down in a chair by a random gate and call Birdie.

  “Hey there,” she greets. “Did you make it to West Virginia okay?”

  “I’m sending you something,” I tell her in a rush. “And we’re going to watch it together.”

  “What?”

  “Just check your text messages right now,” I say and hit send on the clip that’s now saved in my phone.

  “You’re acting weird. Are you okay?”

  “Birdie, just check your texts.”

  “Fine, weirdo…” S
he trails off and stays silent for a few seconds, and then she’s back. “A video?” she asks. “Is that what you’re wanting me to watch?”

  “Yes,” I say, and my heart is pounding so hard in my chest. “Hit play.”

  “O-kay.”

  The phone goes quiet for a long moment, and then I hear her gasp.

  “Oh my god,” she whispers, emotion already filling her voice. “Billie.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh my god,” she repeats, and a half-sob makes her voice stutter.

  “I know.” Now, I’m crying too.

  “How?” she asks. “How did you get this?”

  “Luca.”

  “God, Billie, this is…the sweetest thing I’m pretty sure anyone has ever done for another person.”

  “I told him when we were hiking in Alaska.” More tears slip down my cheeks. “And he remembered, Birdie. He fucking remembered, and then he went and did this.”

  “If that isn’t a man who truly loves a woman, I don’t know what is.”

  I stay silent for a long moment.

  “Billie.” My sister’s voice fills my ears. “I know he was a dick to you. And I know he hurt you. But everyone deserves a second chance. And this, this right here, don’t you think this is worth a second chance?”

  “I’m…scared, Birdie,” I whisper back, my voice shaky. “I’m just scared.”

  “I understand that, but you need to take a step back and think about everything that man has done. You need to really think about his actions and his words since he’s been in LA.”

  Is Luca Weaver worthy of me?

  Is he going to protect my heart?

  “Billie, honey, I think you’re overthinking this,” my sister adds quietly in my ear.

  “It’s impossible not to,” I respond without hesitation.

  “What are you going to do?” she asks, and I shrug.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you should call him,” she says. “I think you should at least let him know what that video meant to you.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s that freaking simple,” she says, an annoyed groan filling my ear. “God, you’re too stubborn for your own good sometimes.”