“What about the community theater?”
“That’s gone too. When Mr. Timmons left, there was no one who wanted to head it up. I’m sorry, Quinn,” Sue shares in a voice meant to soothe me, but it does the opposite.
The chair creaks as I push away from the table and excuse myself. I blindly navigate the hallway and head toward the sunroom through the tears building in my eyes. I can’t believe the drama department and theater group are gone. They were the only things that gave me hope when I was growing up. It’s how I realized the one thing I wanted to do with my life. Without them, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. They were my escape from the home where my parents were rarely around or paid me little attention. There was a roof over my head and food on the table, but no love.
Finally in the sunroom, I rest my head against the glass overlooking the flower garden in Sue’s backyard. I take a few deep breaths, something I was taught to help calm my nerves, but it doesn’t seem to work. The pain of knowing that something I used to hold dear has now been stripped away is almost too much to bear.
“I thought I’d find you here,” a deep, gravelly voice announces.
I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Trevor. I actually felt him before he spoke. My body always seems to know when he’s near.
“This was always your favorite spot in the house. I remember that now.”
Maintaining my gaze out the window, I ask him, “Why would they keep this from me?” Gazing over my shoulder, I look into his sympathetic eyes and continue. “They knew how important those programs were to me. I could’ve helped. I could’ve saved them.” I end on a sob and let the tears fall.
Suddenly I find myself encased by two strong arms, my face pressed against Trevor’s chest. Even amidst the turmoil soaring through me, my body still reacts to his closeness, my own arms going around his waist as I pull him tighter.
“I’m sorry, Quinn. In hindsight, I’m sure Izzy and Mom thought they were doing what you requested.”
Trevor allows me to cry, let out the pain of knowing my favorite teacher is gone, along with the root of my passion.
Once my cries slow, he caresses my back and neck before coming to rest at my jawline. My head tilts back on its own, and I gaze up into Trevor’s concerned green eyes.
“Better?” he asks.
“As better as I can be, I suppose.”
With a bob of his head, his thumbs begin to caress the soft skin along my jaw. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Why do you call me that?” I whisper, losing myself in his touch. He doesn’t respond, but his pulse increases. “Trevor?”
Again he doesn’t respond, but the air between us crackles violently. He leans forward, and I brace myself for the kiss I’ve been anticipating since I was thirteen. My eyes close and I hold my breath as I wait to feel his lips against my own. But I’m disappointed when his mouth brushes my forehead instead.
Embarrassed, my eyes shoot open as he retreats from my grasp.
“What’s going on in here?” Izzy blurts as she strolls into the room.
“N-nothing, Iz. Trevor just came to calm me down, that’s all.”
My eyes follow as he leaves the room without a backward glance toward me.
“It looked like more than that. I mean, how weird would that be. I can’t imagine you and Trevor together.”
“Why would that be weird?” Her eyes narrow and I quickly add, “Just out of curiosity.”
“Because we’re all like siblings. It would be strange. Plus you’re my friend, and he sleeps with more woman than I can count. He would only hurt you, Quinn.”
“Oh I know. I was just wondering.”
Izzy takes my hand and guides me back to the dining room while she apologizes for not telling me about Mr. Timmons. As we pass the kitchen, I watch as Trevor tosses back a glass of amber liquid before meeting my eyes. I try to hold his stare, but he quickly looks over to the dining room where his mother’s setting out a pie.
“It’s no Boston crème, but I think apple will do.”
I smile. “It looks delicious.”
As we sit down for dessert and coffee, I explain to Jake the synopsis of the script I’m reading about a second-chance romance. He seems riveted, so I continue explaining the characters and the scenes.
“I have it!” Sue shouts.
“Have what?” Trevor asks.
“Oh, right. I know who can do the read-through with you. Trevor can do it. He has years of built-up vacation time, so I doubt his boss would mind if he took time off.”
Izzy’s and Trevor’s faces pale in alarm. “We’re short-staffed at the office. I can’t just request time off, Mom. And on top of that, what the hell do I know about reading a script?”
“Oh, you just have to read the lines and maybe act out a few scenes. Quinn is a professional. She just needs you to stand in,” Sue explains. My palms begin to sweat and I rub them against my skirt as my anxiety builds.
“I don’t want Trevor to use his vacation time to help me.” Plus I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself around him if we’re put together for long periods of time. “I’m sure there are a few of my old drama friends still living close by. I could probably call them up.”
“Fine, but I still think it’s a good idea. It’s not like he lives far away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I own the house across the street,” he offers.
Well damn. I didn’t realize how close the proximity truly was. I’m really going to have to control myself now.
I force a laugh at the situation, and luckily Jake and Sue change the topic to Izzy’s new employee at the bank. The coffee burns as I gulp it down, but I welcome the pain, anything to take my mind off running lines with Trevor. If anyone could break me from encompassing the role, it would be him.
I take another large gulp of the scorching liquid, knowing I’ll regret the burnt feeling in my mouth tomorrow, and glance over the rim of my mug at Trevor.
His paleness replaced by a cocky smile, as if he can read my thoughts, he winks and then licks his lips.
That bastard knows I was imagining losing control with him if we practiced the script.
Another mark in Trevor’s column. In the short span of four hours, he’s spun my head about three times too many.
How am I going to survive the rest of the month?
Chapter Five
Quinn
“SO, WHAT ARE WE looking for exactly?” Izzy asks as I steer the cart down another grocery aisle. Shopping has been a luxury I haven’t had the chance to enjoy in a long time; I’m usually bombarded by fans or paparazzi, and I never get the chance to grab the items I need. Thank goodness for online shopping where the local market will just deliver them to my door. It saves me the hassle of having to deal with photographers and overly eager fans.
“I don’t know, really. I don’t want to eat your things.” I snag a bag of cookies off the shelf.
“Guess we’re going the junk food route.”
Laughing, I nod. “You know it. Now let’s head to the ice cream. I feel some rocky road in my future.”
I notice a group of people trailing behind us with their own buggies and my nerves set in.
“Izzy, are those people following us?”
She turns her head and narrows her eyes at the crowd before picking up her pace.
“Yes, and they have cameras too. I’m sorry, Quinn.”
“That’s okay. I should’ve known better. Let’s grab the last few things, and then we can check out.”
After another ten minutes, the crowd grows to an incredible size, making it impossible for Izzy and me to exit the aisle.
“What do we do?” she asks me frantically.
I do my best to remain calm, but as they push closer, my anxiety rises. We stand behind our carts, blocking them from coming any farther.
The store manager tries to push his way through the crowd but he’s unsuccessful, further squashing my hopes of getting out anyt
ime soon.
“I think we’re just going to have to wait it out,” I sigh remembering how awful it felt the first time that this occurred in LA. The moment was terrifying and it’s why security never lets me shop alone. “Hopefully the manager will call the police.”
“I’ve already sent a text to Trevor. They’re on their way.”
Good. Hopefully he and Izzy will get a glimpse of what my life is like. Why I never wanted to bring this to their doorstep. Fame has a vicious downside, and I refuse to bring that to the two people closest to me.
The crowd’s voices grow in earnest, questions spewing from their mouths in a voracious spiral.
“Quinn, did you get fired?”
“Did you hear Alex was caught kissing that supermodel? Is that why you’re hiding?”
“Are you moving back?”
“Are you expecting an Academy nomination this year?”
My head spins as the questions continue to swirl around me. It seems people in my hometown are mini-paparazzi of their own.
Izzy and I cower into ourselves as more people join the crowd.
“I’m so sorry, Izzy. I didn’t expect this to happen.”
She reaches down and grabs my hand, squeezing it gently. “They’re just curious, that’s all. It’ll die down.”
Leave it to Izzy to turn a horrible situation into a learning moment.
A deep voice roars over the crowd as the sound of sirens echoes in the parking lot. “Get back!”
I sigh with relief. We’re finally being rescued.
“Move!” Trevor shouts again until finally he breaks through the crowd, his eyes wild with concern and distress. “Are you both okay? Are you hurt?”
We shake our heads as he steps through our makeshift barrier and takes us in. He checks over his sister first, a gesture that hurts far more than it should, and then he turns to me.
Cupping my chin, he tilts my head back, worry filling his gaze. “You have tears in your eyes.”
“It was just a lot, that’s all. I’m more worried about Izzy than myself.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”
Glancing down at my cart one more time, I see the ice cream dripping.
“I don’t think my dessert is going to make it.”
Trevor chuckles, one of my favorite sounds, then wraps his arm protectively around my shoulders as Izzy sidles up to him.
“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I have some back at my place.”
“Your place?” I ask as he veers us through the crowd, each person still vying for their perfect shot of me. And now I worry that a picture of me, Trevor, and Izzy will be plastered in the latest gossip magazine, pegging us in a love triangle.
“Yep, I figured I could treat you both tonight. What do you say to pizza?”
He looks down at me and I notice a flash of hope in his irises.
“Pizza sounds great, actually.”
*
INSTEAD OF A RANCH style like the house Izzy lives in, Trevor lives in a quaint craftsman across the street. Truthfully, it’s probably my favorite house on the block. And the interior isn’t as masculine as I had imagined. Instead, it’s warm and inviting, a complete one-eighty from the man shoving his fifth slice of pizza into his delectable mouth.
“Do you guys want to watch a movie?” Izzy asks from her perch on the floor between Trevor’s and my legs.
“Sure,” I reply as I snatch a pepperoni from my pizza slice. I could swear I heard a groan coming from Trevor’s direction, but when I peek over his way, I find his attention is on the blank screen of the television.
“Ghostbusters?”
“Which one?” I ask with a full mouth.
“The second. Come on, Quinn. You know I love the Titanic part.”
Reaching forward, I grab my can of Dr. Pepper and take a sip as I giggle at Izzy’s proclamation. The second has always been her favorite. Mine too, but Trevor only likes the first one, and he despised when we would rule him out as kids.
“Well, I’m not the one you have to convince.” I nod toward a scowling Trevor.
Izzy begins to go into all of the reasons why the second film trumps the first, so I take the now-empty pizza box and the few cans of soda into the kitchen, tossing everything in the trash before heading to the sink to wash my hands.
The familiar prickles rise on my arms, and then his masculine sandalwood scent carries across my nose. My hands automatically freeze under the warm water pouring from the faucet. Trevor presses his body against mine, and I suck in a breath. I wish I wasn’t so affected by him. I practically shiver as his hands glide down my arms to rest under the water with mine. My eyes close as his nose brushes along my jaw. I don’t even notice when he reaches for the soap and begins to suds up our hands together. His fingers slide between each of mine as he continues to increase the lather, and his lips press against the sensitive skin below my ear.
My breath hitches at the contact, which seems to break him from the erotic foreplay he unleashed on me. I never knew handwashing could be such a turn-on. He reaches up to turn off the faucet and then grabs the dish towel. I just stand there frozen, unable to do anything but let my hands drip-dry in the sink.
“Better to share than letting the water go to waste,” he explains with a sexy smirk, the corner of his mouth tilting upward.
I watch his backside as he leisurely walks back to the living room.
Dammit, this round goes to Trevor again. At this point, I’m about to start losing count.
“Quinn, are you coming?” Izzy shouts from the den, and I hurriedly dry my hands.
“Sorry, I was checking to see if there’s any popcorn,” I lie, narrowing my eyes as Trevor coughs behind his hand. It’s then that I notice that Izzy has taken up residence on the couch beside Trevor. The only available seat is on Trevor’s other side.
This will be okay. You’ve sat beside him dozens of times.
As the movie starts, Izzy requests the lights be shut off, so I flick the switch on the way to the couch. I sit as far away from Trevor as possible, pretty much resting my body on the arm of the sofa. It’s uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as it would be for me to sit with my body pressed against Trevor’s.
The movie starts and we settle in to watch, but about fifteen minutes in, I begin to squirm from the awkwardness of my position. I bring my legs up onto the couch only to have my ankle grabbed. My head swings to Trevor, who has his attention pinned to the movie. I try to pull my ankle away but his grip tightens.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, trying not to draw Izzy’s attention.
Trevor doesn’t answer right away; instead, he turns his head and pins me with his gaze. I’m immobilized by his stare and begin to question if I indeed find lust in his eyes. Lust that definitely matches what’s firing in mine.
“Come here,” he mouths as he tugs on my ankle once more.
“No,” I mouth back.
Then he unleashes his secret weapon, his lower lip puckering out and his eyebrows rising upward in a practiced puppy dog face.
“Please,” he requests, and I give in to the pull.
I settle in next to Trevor but remain stiff until he reaches across the back of the couch and rests his hand on my shoulder. His fingers begin to trace lazy circles on the exposed skin from my tank top, and my shoulders relax.
We watch the remainder of the movie like this, his fingers tracing an invisible pattern on my shoulder and my hands tucked firmly under my crossed arms so I don’t give in to the urge to touch him.
I’m so lost in the movements that I don’t even notice when the movie ends. It takes Izzy standing from the couch and flicking on the light switch before I edge away from Trevor and let his arm drop between the couch and my back. His fingers take charge and edge past my top, stroking the skin at my waist. I jump up in fear of Izzy seeing.
“You ready to go, Quinn?” she asks. “I have to work in the morning.”
“Sure. Thanks for saving us today, Tre
vor.”
He remains sitting on the couch, cocky mug firmly in place. “It was my pleasure, Quinn.” He winks up at me.
I move away from the couch and the powerful pull Trevor has over me and follow Izzy out of the house and across the street.
“I meant to ask if you had any luck with finding someone to help you with your script.”
As she unlocks the front door, I follow her inside and explain, “Unfortunately no. Everyone kept pushing me to call someone else. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for a kidney, just a few days a week to read through the lines. Is that so much to ask?”
“I’m sorry. You’ll find someone.”
“At this point I’m about to ask your mom. She’s free at night, right?”
“Good luck convincing my dad of that.”
“Damn. This shouldn’t be so difficult.”
Izzy shrugs sympathetically and then wishes me good night.
I stalk to my bedroom and tug on an oversized shirt and gym shorts before grabbing the script from the dresser. I try a few scenes, but I’ve never been one to complete a read-through without someone to act out the other characters, needing to feed off their energy and words.
“Ugh!” I grumble into the empty room and flop back onto the bed.
This trip back home is not going as planned. First, I’m not able to focus on the script like I wanted. Second, my parents got wind that I’m home and are requesting my presence for some unknown reason. And finally, Trevor has ignited my carefully guarded crush from childhood and it’s exploded into full-blown infatuation.
Closing my eyes, I can’t help but remember how it felt tonight in his kitchen when he pressed me against the sink and cradled my body to his. A shiver rattles down my body recalling the way his hands felt on my arms.
I don’t think my attraction to him is one-sided this time around, and that scares the daylights out of me. Because if we give in to the attraction, neither of us is going to win.
Turning my head, I stare at the script, yearning for it to speak to me, to give me an idea of who I can call, but only one idea settles in my mind.
Sliding on my flip-flops, I quietly open the front door and skip out into the night. A light’s on in the upper bedroom of Trevor’s house, and I pray he hasn’t gone to bed.
Between the Lines Page 4
