No Interest in Love

by Cassie Mae

  She sighs, moving her hands up to my shoulders. She has to stand on her very tiptoes to give me that familiar commanding look. It’s not annoying like it used to be. Not even really amusing either. It’s sexy as hell.

  “Go in there and kill this screen test. Get the part. Kiss the lead and have your fling with a gorgeous actress, and I’ll find the next big part for you.” She flattens her lips together and rubs them, and it kills me to not make the move I promised her I wouldn’t. “Pretty soon you won’t even need me.”

  I step forward once more, and her hands, which have a firm grip on my shoulders, slide around my neck. My heart’s pounding clean out of my chest when I wrap my arms around her tiny waist and pull her into what is meant to be a friendly hug, but a burst of static electricity shoots through my body, making this the most intimate hug I’ve ever given to anyone.

  “Yeah, I don’t want to get to the point when I don’t need you.” And I mean every word that has tumbled off my tongue. Like they weren’t on the script but they are now. I’m forging them in, burning them into the paper, never to be erased.

  Shay’s arms twitch around my neck, and her breath sends shock waves of goose bumps up and down my skin. “Can I get that in writing?” she jokes.

  “Pretty sure that’s called a contract. And we already have one of those.”

  She chuckles, slowly loosening her hold on me. Her face is a little red, almond-shaped eyes a little glassy, but she’s smiling.

  “Did I fill my quota of encouraging thoughts for the pep talk? Think you can go in there now?”

  “One more thing.”

  “What?”

  “What happened in that gas station bathroom?”

  She pushes my arm, and I grin, tempted to lean in and do the very wrong thing by kissing her cheek. Instead I crack my neck one more time, take a deep breath, and head inside to kick this screen test’s ass. And not for me. But for her.

  4:23 P.M.

  Auditions always seem to be a bit more grand in my head than they turn out to be. Every time. When I walk into the room, I expect something like a studio. Camera set up, coffee machine, few interns running around. But it looks more like an interrogation room. Long desk in the middle, blank walls, and folders in front of the casting director and producers. There is a camera and, sitting behind it, a girl who can’t be older than eighteen, scrolling through her phone.

  And a flat-faced cat.

  Staring at me.

  “Jason Sterne,” the guy from the other room announces upon my entrance. “Reading for the role of Landon.”

  The two men at the table look up briefly and nod, while Carletta looks up and locks eyes with me. She sweeps her long red hair over her shoulder and gives me a no-teeth-showing smile.

  I admit…I’m starstruck. This woman is famous, has been on the red carpet, won multiple awards, produced, directed, done things I’ve only dreamed about. And Miss Sure Thing is beautiful even in person. Sometimes the camera helps people out, sometimes it doesn’t. Carletta needs no helping out.

  But even noticing that and standing with script in hand, I find myself wishing I was back in that crappy motel with Miss Unlikely.

  Straightening my shoulders, I put on a signature leading-man half smile and walk up to the table. I shake each one of their hands, nodding and thanking them for the opportunity. Carletta’s small and fragile handshake lingers somewhat before she settles her fingers on the cat. I stay away from the thing. Not allergic, but I’m more of a dog person. Cats are evil.

  “Okay, Mr. Sterne, take it from page six, will you?” Mr. Casting Director says, finally glancing up from the paperwork. He gestures to Carletta, and she stands opposite me. “Carletta will read Jessie’s part with you.”

  The girl behind the camera hits the record button and goes back to messing with her phone.

  I roll my shoulders and blow out a breath. The other producer reads the scene opening, describing the characters, who’ve just wrapped up the day’s work from the “reality show” and are now talking about the aftermath.

  My eyes land on Carletta, and I know the first line of the scene. It’s “I’m coming in,” and it’s not my line, it’s hers.

  But it’s right then…that the nerves hit.

  They barrel-roll in my stomach, making my arms and legs fidgety. My throat goes dry, and I gulp, trying to moisten it, but it doesn’t do shit. I’m used to nerves during auditions. But when I’m in character I push those back. I’m not some idiot who can’t read his lines, but a dude battling zombies, or in this case, a sucker who is falling for the obvious love interest.

  But this time I can’t seem to get in character.

  Carletta and I are about to do a scene that’s pivotal for the characters’ arcs. I know that’s why they picked this particular scene, because the chemistry and comedy are in equal measures. I can do that. I know I can do that.

  I just don’t want to with her.

  I shake my head, trying to clear it of the sudden wave of images speeding behind my eyes. Like I’m having my own recap montage of the week, fast-forwarding and rewinding to find that pivotal scene when I tossed the Stinson Approach off a cliff because I found a woman I don’t want just one night with.

  But I can’t find it. I don’t know where that pivotal scene is. And it’s making my head spin.

  “Hello? Jason?” Carletta sings at me, and I blink and laugh off my spacey moment.

  “Sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m ready.”

  Then she transforms right in front of me. From a confident actress to an adorable contestant on a show whom the audience is going to root for.

  All I see is a Miss Unlikely.

  All I see…is Shay.

  “I’m coming in,” she says, pushing open a pretend door and covering her eyes. “Cover up what you don’t want seen.”

  And now that I see Shay, letting my character take over seems as easy as breathing. “You can look. But it might ruin all other men for you.”

  We go through the whole scene. I’m killing it. I know I am because I can finally draw from a real place. Every time Carletta smiles, I see Shay smiling. Every time she touches my arm, I feel Shay. And when we get to the bottom of the page, Carletta as Jessie looks at me and says, “You said some really romantic things to me out there. I almost bought it.”

  “It was for the cameras. You know that.”

  “What would you have said”—her eyes drift to the floor—“if the cameras weren’t there?”

  And I mean every single word that comes out of my mouth.

  “That you’re scaring the hell out of me.”

  4:49 P.M.

  “Wow,” Carletta says, breaking character. She grins wide, squealing a little under her breath before picking up her demonic-looking pet. “You were well worth the wait.” She turns to the casting director. “Bring Jason’s tape to the conference tonight.”

  He nods and pulls out his tablet. Carletta bounces back to me, grabbing hold of my arm and squeezing tight.

  “Walk with me,” she says, widening her eyes in a baby-doll way. She acts a hell of a lot younger than I thought she would. “Let them talk about all the boring stuff with your agent.”

  My heart kicks when Shay’s mentioned, and then again when Carletta opens the door and invites her in. I turn my hand, palm out. Shay passes and taps it with hers.

  Carletta leads me to a copy room. I raise my eyebrow when she perches herself up on a fold-out desk, crossing her long legs in her designer skirt. I almost hear the porn music start up in the background.

  “I wanted to have this conversation with you in private over dinner, but you totally bailed on me.” She says it with an overly annoyed flair, but I think it’s supposed to be flirtatious. I might be off my game since my hand’s still tingling from low-fiving Shay three seconds ago.

  “I have a good excuse,” I tell her, shrugging into the copy room and taking a seat next to her. She turns into me and bats her eyes.

  “I’m interested in hearing it
. I don’t get stood up…well…ever.”

  She laughs at herself, and I laugh at the fact that she thinks that’s funny, but it’s not. But she’s attractive, so she can get away with that stuff. More demanding than I thought she’d be, too. It’s still hard to believe I’m sitting in a copy room with this powerhouse of an actress.

  Yeah…she’s attractive for sure.

  But not really adorable.

  I run a hand over the back of my neck and proceed to tell her—in vast detail—about the week from hell. Only I’m not thinking it was that hellish anymore. I’d probably go through another just to spend that kind of time with Shay again.

  “Okay…I so heart you right now,” Carletta says, putting her hand to her chest. “I can’t imagine being stuck without any money or phone. And on top of it you have to be with your agent. Talk about not having fun ever.”

  “Actually, she’s—”

  “But you made it! And if you hadn’t told me, I never would’ve known you spent four days without showering. What is that smell?” She leans forward and presses her nose to my sleeve. “It’s like rain clouds.”

  “Uh…it’s whatever the motel had.” I hop off the table to get some space—from her and the cat still perched in her arms. “I should probably get back to—”

  “Where are you staying tonight?” she cuts me off, hopping off the table too.

  “Not sure.”

  “The studio booked several rooms for me for the weekend. You can stay as long as you want.” She pulls out a card from her bra, the cat growling a bit as she shifts it against her hip. “I’m in suite 702. Stop by and see me if you get lonely.” She leans forward, letting her hand fall flush against my ass as she slides the card in my back pocket. Her pink lips tilt up, and she brushes them against my ear. “Yeah…I work fast,” she whispers, then settles her mouth just under my jaw.

  The warmth in my neck shoots in a downward spiral and rests in my stomach. This is why I couldn’t find the pivotal scene in my earlier recap. Because it’s right here. I’m at that fork in the road Milo talked about, choosing the path of Barney or the path of Ted. Barney’s the guy who gets all the women he wants. He’s the one who is happy through most of the show. He’s the one who gets laid, drinks, and through the genius of the writers and Neil Patrick Harris, is still likable.

  Ted isn’t that. He’s lost and confused and hopeless, wanting the one woman whom he can marry and have kids with.

  A week ago the answer was clear. I’d march off down the Barney path and not give a second glance over my shoulder at the suckers who chose Ted.

  Now…I can’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t join those suckers. And what a place to figure this all out, when I’m with the woman I was chasing all week. Miss Unattached Fling. Miss Sure Thing. Miss I Don’t Want Anymore.

  Carletta leans back, not noticing how I was completely in another world just now. She does a cutesy shrug of her shoulders, blows me a kiss, then walks out, leaving that hotel card burning a hole in my back pocket.

  6:52 P.M.

  Shay sets up a dinner for all of us. Producers, casting director, Carletta, me, her…

  It all goes well except for the fact that Carletta keeps biting her bottom lip and leaning into my ear for private conversations. Shay looks like it doesn’t bug her—which bugs me—but she nibbles that pinkie nail every time it happens.

  After dinner, I let Shay have the hotel room Carletta offered. Told her I was covered, even though I’m not. I just need to walk around a bit, decide how this is going to go down. Choose which road seems more appealing, or maybe which road is the one I really want. I call my grandma from Shay’s room phone—which makes Shay smile, but I’m not sure why—just to check in, but to also hear the Grandma Voice of Reason. But when we start talking, I can’t get into it. So after I hang up, I hit a movie, walk around, try to clear my head.

  Few hours later, just outside of the hotel, I realize that maybe my head doesn’t need clearing. I already know what I’m gonna choose. It’s not knowing how she’ll react that has me second-guessing.

  But I head straight for the elevator anyway and slam the top-floor button.

  11:26 P.M.

  Carletta’s suite takes up nearly the entire top floor of the hotel. Assistants and behind-the-scenes staff are still chatting and moving around the main hallway, a few of them giving me knowing looks as I rap my knuckles against Carletta’s door.

  She opens it slowly, and I was going to lead in with chitchat. I had it all prepared too. There was about an eighteen-minute dialogue just about her flat-faced cat, which is currently perched by her right leg.

  But all that rehearsing means nothing, because the second I see her I blurt out, “I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

  Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifts, along with her very full lips. She ignores the looks we’re both getting from the bustle in the hallway and steps back to let me in.

  “Do you want a drink?” she asks as soon as the door shuts behind me. Her bare feet pad across the furry rug to the bar. Her shorts barely cover her ass, and the tank top she’s in isn’t doing much to hold in her breasts. I can’t help but compare her to Shay in my baggy clothing, showing none of her curves but still making me go out of my skull.

  “Uh…” I mutter, scratching at my ear. “Did you hear me?”

  She laughs, shaking her head at the very large wineglass she’s filling. “I’m fine with relaxing tonight. I can’t imagine performing after going through a week like you just did.”

  She lifts the wine bottle at me, and I pass on it.

  “No, Carletta…I mean I’m not going to sleep with you…ever.”

  She laughs until she catches my drop-dead-serious expression. It gets so pin-droppingly quiet that even Carletta’s cat gets sick of it and starts mewling at us both. Carletta picks up her glass and slumps onto an overly cushioned couch. Her brows have pinched together and she gnaws on her bottom lip. I don’t know whether I should stay standing, sit down, walk out, or what.

  “You’re married?” she asks. I slowly take a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

  “No.”

  “Gay?”

  “No.”

  “Engaged? Taken?”

  “No.”

  She slams her hand into the large throw pillow. “Then what the hell, Jason?”

  I can’t tell if she looks more amused or annoyed. The light smile on her face tells me the former, but the tone of her voice has me thinking the latter. I let out a giant sigh and grab the back of my head, shaking it at the floor.

  “That woman…the one I’ve been stuck with all week. The one who drives me crazy. She’s…” I stop and run a hand over my face.

  “Driving you crazy,” Carletta finishes for me.

  “I’ve lost my damn mind.” I meet her gaze. “But I like it. And I don’t want to risk losing a shot at it.”

  She takes a drink, rolling her eyes a bit.

  “What? Don’t believe me?”

  “I thought you were a guy who was into this sort of arrangement. I get a good lead out of the deal, and you get a good lay. Win-win.” She puts her glass down and scoots forward on the couch, letting her bare knee touch my leg. “Are you going to let this woman who’s not even your girlfriend stand in the way of you getting the job?”

  My brow furrows. “You saying if I don’t sleep with you, the part goes to someone who will?”

  “I’m not saying those exact words.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “That would be very illegal.” She playfully bites her bottom lip and inches closer again. I back the hell up.

  “Sorry,” I say, moving toward the door. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  She jerks back, mouth turned down. Her back straightens as if she’s going on the defensive. “This is Hollywood. Once you’re in, you’re going to want to stay and play for a bit. Monogamy kind of spoils that for you.”

  I shake my head, knowing just days ago I probably sounded just like her. It all feels so ridic
ulous now. And she’s right, Shay’s not my girlfriend or even anything at this point, but I don’t care. I don’t want that anymore. Not after I’ve felt what could be the real deal.

  “Actually, this is Birmingham, Alabama,” I say. “And I’m done playing.”

  And even though I know I’m about to lose a chance at the big screen, I feel light as a feather as I turn my back on Miss Sure Thing.

  I’m craving something a bit more unlikely.

  Saturday

  12:00 A.M.

  It’s a long walk from Carletta’s suite to the fast-food place down the road, but at least it’s not twenty miles. And the journey there and back to the hotel goes quick with everything reeling through my brain on a loop.

  I said no to a sure thing. I said no for the chance at a very unlikely thing. For the first time I want to be Ted, not Barney. I don’t want to take the Stinson Approach. I want my own approach to this. No script, no set characters…even though the thought of her not reciprocating the feelings niggles in the back of my mind, I don’t let it deter me.

  I step into the elevator with fast-food bag in hand, pressing the 2 button without pause. I could easily press the top floor and be back with Carletta…but I don’t. And it’s not because I feel guilty or because I think it’ll save the part I’ve spent all week to get, but because…

  I don’t want to.

  Seems simple, but I don’t want to sleep with her. I don’t feel like sleeping with anyone but Shay, no matter how long that takes. And I end up chuckling to myself as the elevator doors open on floor 2 because I never thought I’d be thinking this.

  Shay’s room is the last one down the hallway, and when I get there, I lean in close and tap the door lightly with one knuckle. It’s late. I know it’s stupid. But I want to be here.

  I hear her shuffle to the door, and it shakes a little when, I assume, she presses her eye to the peephole. The lock clacks, then she slowly pulls the door open.

  “Thought you would’ve been sick of me by now,” she says, a light smile on her face. She’s hiding something behind her back, and I’m tempted to peer over her shoulder to see what it is, but I’m distracted by the rest of her.