Lucy and The Love Pact: Young Adult Fake Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 2)

by Anna Catherine Field

I’m just not happy about my relationship with her being one of them.

  33

  Lucy

  There are three missed calls by the time I check my phone at 9 a.m., all from Dean. No messages. No texts. I call him back and get his voice mail.

  “Hey,” I say, into the phone, “Saw the missed calls. You’re probably in the gym. I’ll meet you at the pier at eleven.”

  Maya’s sprawled on the couch, history book in her lap and the TV on to Hello America!, the morning show with the women who pretend to be journalists but really are just drinking wine and gossiping throughout the show. For some reason, she insists on watching it every day. I pass her on my way to the kitchen where I grab a yogurt out of the refrigerator and a spoon from the drawer before sitting on the couch.

  “You got in late last night,” she says, looking away from the TV. The women are talking about how a report says vodka is good for your health. Yeesh, the last thing these women need is hard alcohol.

  “Dean got some good news yesterday, we celebrated at the restaurant.” I tell her about his expanded role and going to New York for MegaCon. “It’s all really exciting.”

  “It is,” she agrees. “It’s awesome how things are kicking off for both of you.”

  “I guess,” I say, stirring my yogurt. “His seems so much more defined. I’ve got this contest which could totally backfire again. He’s actually made it.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re letting your nerves get to you again?”

  I frown. “Probably. I guess I just really wanted him to be here to help me see this through.” I glance at the TV that’s now showing a cat food commercial with cute dancing kittens. “At least he’ll be with me today. We’re going to see the Johnsons.”

  She sits up and moves her book to the coffee table. “You’re what? Seriously?”

  I nod. “When Dean and I first made our deal to help each other out, that was on his list. He felt like I needed to go see them again. Not just for myself, but to take away any ammunition Fiona may have by using them in the show.”

  “Wow. How do you feel about that?”

  “Scared.” I lean back. “I’ve learned a lot about myself over the last few months. I don’t regret my decision but there was probably a better way to handle it. Cutting people out of my life when they hurt me is just kind of repeating the same pattern over and over again.”

  “What do you think you’ll say?”

  I shrug. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

  The show comes back on and the woman with blonde hair holds her glass of wine while standing in front of a screen. Behind her are the words, “Entertainment Round Up.”

  I stand, heading back to the kitchen to recycle my container, but turn abruptly around when I hear the woman say, “Exciting news in the riveting world of Avondale. Sources tell us that stars are on their way to New York for MegaCon. Reporters caught several of their stars as they entered LAX this morning.”

  Video plays and what I see stops me cold. It’s of Dean getting out of a sleek black car, followed by Reese. He keeps his head down but Reese smiles broadly and waves. A paparazzi calls her name and she stops, “Reese! Who’s with you? A new boyfriend?”

  She laughs and grabs Dean, pulling him back over. “This is Dean Turner, a supporting member of our cast. We’re super excited to have him join us at MegaCon this year.” Despite looking bewildered at the flashing cameras, Dean looks amazing. Eyes bright with excitement, smirky, assured grin on his perfect lips. He doesn’t say anything but winks at Reese, gesturing for them to head on.

  The clip ends and the blonde host smiles broadly into the camera. “Those two look adorable together. Wonder if there’s some off-screen romance happening with an on-screen couple. We’ll have to keep our eyes open for that one!”

  I pick up my phone and start to send a text but then stop myself, tossing the phone on the table.

  “Unbelievable.”

  Maya scoots closer. “So you didn’t know he was leaving today?”

  “Nope.” Hot tears spring to my eyes. “Last he told me, he was leaving tomorrow. We made plans for today just last night. He didn’t say a word.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know?”

  “He called me this morning. He didn’t leave a message or text.” I shrug. “Why would he do that?”

  She wraps her arm around me and pulls me in. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem like him.”

  “Doesn’t it?” I say, fighting the familiar wave of anxiety. “How would I know? I barely know him. I definitely don’t know this guy—the one with a career. The one kissing other girls on TV and then flying to New York with them.”

  “Luce, you know that’s not true.”

  “That’s the problem,” I say, standing, feeling completely off balance. “When it comes to Dean Turner, up-and-coming leading man, how am I supposed to know what’s real or not?”

  Nothing’s changed about the massive Spanish-style house since I left six months ago. Not the perfectly landscaped yard or the topiaries in giant marble pots. I stand before the double doors, shifting nervously, feeling more awkward and out of place than I did the first time I came here with Mrs. Cortez, my social worker. I’d just turned fourteen and had been living at the group home for months. Mrs. Ramona Johnson is one of those charity types, who volunteers for countless organizations while her husband, Leonard, ran his multi-million-dollar business in the city. The Johnsons' children were older and out of the house and she took a seat on the board of the Girls' Home by the Sea. That was all it took for her to realize she wanted to help, because she’s a good person. A really good person that welcomed me into her home, paid for my education at a top-tier private school and gave me a family.

  I’d thrown it all away by going on the show. Education is a requirement, not only by the state, but the Johnsons personally. If I wanted to keep my foster care status, I needed to be in school. So there were threats and ultimatums and I said things I couldn’t take back.

  In the end, I didn’t want to wait to graduate, so I left, and when I failed on the show I was too ashamed to show my face here again. Until now.

  Just as I’m lifting my hand to ring the doorbell my phone buzzes.

  Dean.

  Nope. Not now. I’m not going to let him derail this moment with his lame excuses. Yes, they’d finally started coming in via message. Apologies. Excuses. None that I was really in the mood for right now.

  I slide the phone back in my pocket and force myself to push the button. A loud chime echoes through the house and in a final moment of panic, I wonder if there’s time for me to run.

  Unfortunately, the Johnsons have two little dogs, Boston Terriers, and they go bananas when the doorbell rings. Today is no different and I can hear them race across the hardwood floors and see them press their smushed-up noses against the window. An unexpected emotion rolls through me when I see the dogs and tears pop in my eyes. These had been my dogs, too.

  Suddenly, I really wish Dean was here and I hate him a little for bailing.

  The dogs keep barking when they see me and I hear Ramona shush them as she approaches the door. My stomach twists in a bundle of nerves and I think I may actually be sick.

  Ramona peers out the side panel windows and makes no attempt to hide the shocked surprise on her face. There’s a beat. A moment where she stares at me and then she vanishes.

  I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t open this door again. I can’t rip off the Band-aid to reveal a gaping wound. Before she can open the door, I step back and start down the sidewalk.

  “Lucy?” Ramona calls. “Lucy, wait.” The dogs race out of the house and circle my feet, wanting to smell me and give me kisses. Ramona calls, “Sonny! Cher! Come back here!”

  I stop because of the dogs, reaching down and picking up Sonny. I let him lick me all over my face. “Hey buddy,” I say, scratching behind his ears. “I missed you.”

  Ramona stops in front of me, her dark hair with gray streaks is cut just below her ears. She lo
oks me up and down, taking me in. As her eyes settle on my hair and how different it is since the last time I was here. But that’s the outside, only I know just how different I am all around.

  “Lucy,” she says, taking the dog away from me and putting him on the ground with his sister. Then she shocks me by pulling me into a hug. “Girl, we’ve been so worried about you. So worried.” Her arms squeeze me tight, so tight I feel like I can’t breathe, except a sob wracks through me.

  “I thought you hated me.”

  “Never,” she says. “Upset? Yes. Worried? Absolutely. Scared? Definitely. But hate you? That’s not possible, not after all we went through.”

  Her words provide a deep comfort, one I didn’t realize I craved. I pull back and wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry for everything that happened.”

  She smooths my hair and gives me a questioning look. “Everything?”

  I laugh. “Okay, not everything. I don’t regret doing the show. I just regret how it all happened and it’s taken me a while, but I can admit it: you were right.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “About what?”

  “I wasn’t ready. Not for the show or Fiona Caldwell. Not for life. Not exactly.” I exhale.

  “You’re a strong girl, Lucy. A beautiful girl. There will be so many chances for you to get what you want out of life.” She reaches out. “Do you have time to come in? Stay for a while. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to.”

  I grin, feeling some of the stress of the last six months lift from my shoulders. “I’d like that.”

  34

  Dean

  “This question is for Dean. Now that you’re on the show as a regular cast member, will you be shirtless all the time?”

  The audience laughs and I squint, looking through the bright lights of the stage glare trying to find the person that asked the question. I hope none of the ten thousand people in the audience can tell I’m sweating. Ten thousand. They put Avondale in the Q Hall, the biggest at the convention. It’s not even the most surreal part of my weekend.

  It started with the paparazzi chasing us through the airport, then the interview on the roof of a swanky five-star hotel with a dozen other up-and-coming actors. From there, the network took over. Parties, more interviews, photoshoots. I finally passed out at 3 a.m. only to be dragged awake at six to do it all over again.

  I finally find the person, a woman probably in her thirties, that asked the question in the audience and say, “You’ll have to ask the writers and directors about that, but they definitely keep encouraging me to go to the gym.”

  Reese, who sits to my right, grabs my bicep. “Welcome to the gun show, amirite, girls?”

  The audience explodes into laughter and man, it feels good to be recognized for my hard work in the gym as well as elsewhere.

  I just wish I could share it with Lucy. She hadn’t returned my calls or texts since I’d left. At first I didn’t want to leave a message wanting to apologize directly. After that, I’d started sending messages, leaving messages, but she didn’t reply to a single one. It didn’t help that there was zero service in the convention hall where we’d spent the last two days signing autographs and meeting fans.

  I’d screwed up big.

  It’s Sunday and Lucy leaves for The Next Big Model tomorrow. After that, I won’t see her for over a month and there’s no way I want her to go without talking to her, hopefully face-to-face one more time.

  The panel ends and we’re ushered off the stage to do another round of interviews. Once we’re done with this I can head straight to the airport and head back home.

  I see Marissa outside Q Hall and grab her.

  “Dean! Amazing. I’ve been checking Twitter. People are thrilled about the announcement of you joining the show. You have like, five thousand new followers an hour.”

  “That’s great,” I say, eyeing her phone. She must have better service. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” she says, looking up. Her face is flushed with excitement. “What do you need? Water? Protein? You must be famished.”

  “No, nothing like that.” I see the rest of the cast walking off with the escort. I need to go. “Can you call Lucy for me? Tell her I’ll be home tonight and to wait up for me.”

  Her expression shifts. “Dean, we talked about you creating a little space in that relationship. Right now isn’t the time to be linked to someone outside the show. It’s not going to help your career.”

  My jaw tenses. “I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I say, barely able to contain my anger. “I asked you to do a job, isn’t that what I pay you for?”

  It’s snobby and entitled, but I’m sick of her trying to steer me away from Lucy. If I had to guess, she’d made me leave early just to get away from her.

  She takes a step back. “I’m just looking out for you.”

  I run my hands through my hair and see the last of the cast exiting the room. “Nevermind.”

  “Dean!” she calls as I rush to catch up. The truth is, this is my mess to fix.

  Hopefully I haven’t lost her forever.

  35

  Lucy

  One suitcase. That’s all we’re allowed at the model house. The car comes to pick me up tomorrow at 5 a.m. and I have to be ready. I doubt I’ll get a minute of sleep.

  “Which shoes,” Finley asks, holding up two pairs of strappy sandals. I point to the silver ones.

  “And that pair of boots,” I say, grabbing them off the closet floor.

  “I can’t believe you went over to the Johnsons yesterday. She called Mrs. Beverly, you know, like two seconds after you left.”

  I count out enough underwear to get me through until laundry day and then stash in a few bathing suits. There’s a pool at the house. They love to catch the girls “lounging” by the pool during our free time.

  “It went really well. We talked about a lot of things and how we both didn’t handle it right.” I sit on the bed across from Finley, who is sitting on the soft purple chair I bought at the thrift store, wearing a worn Academy soccer hoodie with Chase’s number on the front. “I think we were both scared. She was scared of losing me and always had been. I think when they couldn’t work out the adoption stuff, she figured one day I would just leave if I wasn’t happy anymore. Which is exactly what I did. I was worried about losing the opportunity to follow my dream and wasn’t going to let anyone get in my way.”

  She pulls her feet up on the chair. “You know, I get it. It’s such a feeling of instability. Like the floor can be yanked out from under you at any moment. Sometimes I think it’s worse to live in a really nice placement like the Johnsons or at Mrs. Beverly’s house. You have to get to a place of deep trust to have faith in everything, you know?”

  “I don’t think I have that trust,” I admit, arranging a few things in my bag. “With anyone. Only myself.”

  “Luce,” she says in a soft voice, “I know things are rocky with Dean right now, but I do think he cares for you.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because remember how upset I got about those photos with Veronica and Chase at his mother’s event? You were the one that told me to knock it off and open my eyes.” She leans forward. “Remember how crazy I got?”

  I laugh. “You were a little nuts.”

  She gives me a pointed look. “Because for the first time, I had to let go of a little control to be happy.”

  Those words ring familiar and I realize it’s very close to what I said to Dean that day outside the ice cream shop. The day he finally asked me out.

  “I’m working on it,” I tell her, “but right now, everything I’ve got is channeled on the show. I don’t have time for insecurities and that’s how I feel when I think about Dean.”

  “I get that and you’re going to kill it this time.”

  I smile, because yeah, I have a feeling that I am. The confidence I feel is different this time around. Less entitled. More earned.

  My phone buzzes, skittering across my dresser. Dean�
��s name appears on the screen. Finley raises her eyebrow. “You going to get that?”

  I take a deep breath, pick it up, and walk into the living room for privacy.

  “Hello?” I ask, only just now realizing how eager I am to hear his voice.

  “Lucy?”

  It’s not Dean. “Who is this?”

  “Marissa, Dean’s agent.”

  “Oh,” I say, instantly worried. “Is everything okay? Is Dean okay?”

  “He’s fine,” she says quickly. “He just asked me to give you a call since he’s so swamped this weekend.”

  He had his assistant call. Is that who’d called all those other times? Who’d texted? A cold feeling settles in my bones. “Great. I’m really busy right now so maybe get to the point.”

  There’s a tiny pause. “He wanted me to let you know that he won’t be back until tonight. Late. And that he wishes you luck in the competition.”

  A wave of emotion rolls over me. He couldn’t even tell me this himself. “Okay, thanks. I guess.”

  “You’re going to do great, Lucy,” she tells me. “I know you and Dean worked hard to improve your careers. You really helped him with your knowledge about social media and how to engage fans. I know he helped you as well by getting up the courage to go back on the show and face some of your fears. Now that you’ve both accomplished your goals, you can move forward.”

  Move forward.

  Separately?

  “He’s ready for this opportunity,” she continues. “Everything is falling into place. The job, the show, the relationships with his co-stars. They’re all really close and a few have made him feel like part of the family.”

  What is she trying to say? That he and Reese are close? My mind spins. I’d been mad for days. So mad, but I also kind of thought we’d have time to work this out. I had given him a piece of my heart, some of my trust, and I felt he’d done the same, but maybe now that he’s succeeded, he doesn’t need me anymore. Maybe leaving like this is the easier thing to do. The easier way to break up.