“OMG!” Gaby cried out, pointing. “Jane, don’t look, but Jesse’s here!”
Jane immediately craned her neck to see. She bit her lip.
“Just ignore them,” Madison said, touching her arm. “Pretend like we’re having a really funny conversation.”
Jane didn’t reply. She seemed to be considering something. “I’m gonna go talk to him,” she said finally. “This time, I won’t let him ignore me. I’m going to apologize, no matter what it takes.”
“That is so not a good idea,” Madison blurted out. “It’s New Year’s Eve. We’re supposed to have fun. Talking to Jesse will only bring you down. Why don’t we just have some champagne and—”
“I have to do this, Madison. I need to start my year fresh,” Jane insisted. And before Madison could stop her, Jane rose to her feet and followed Jesse and his lady du jour, who had wandered inside.
Madison picked up her champagne glass and swallowed the rest of it, trying to fight the surge of panic swelling inside her. What if Jesse told Jane the truth about the pictures? Then what?
13
YOU’RE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE
Scarlett leaned against the door marked 1C, listening, wondering if she should ring the bell again or just turn around and walk away. On her way out, she’d forgotten to grab the six-pack she’d bought earlier, so she was empty-handed. Maybe she should find a liquor store and come back? She could hear voices, laughter, loud music, an occasional noisemaker. It was twenty after eleven, forty minutes until the New Year. Maybe she should just bail…go home and curl up in bed with a good book…or rush over to h.wood, where Jane, Madison, and Gaby were shooting, and where Dana (no doubt) was calling Scarlett every ten seconds, demanding to know where the hell she was. Too bad Scarlett had turned off her cell. Oops, sorry, Dana!
The air was chilly outside, with just a touch of a breeze that made the palm fronds overhead sway gently back and forth. Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at Beachwood Drive. She had never been to this neighborhood before; it was kinda low-key, with nice, not-too-fancy apartment buildings as well as bars and cafés that looked more comfy than trendy. Scarlett liked it.
Or maybe she just liked Liam, so she would naturally like where he lived?
The door opened. “Scarlett?”
Scarlett spun around to find Liam standing there, smiling at her. Wow, he had a nice smile. His lips curled up just so, and his blue eyes twinkled like he and she were sharing a private joke that no one else in the world could possibly understand.
Do something! Scarlett told herself. Say something!
“Oh. Hey. Yeah, so I was thinking I should head over to the store, because I realized I forgot to bring anything,” Scarlett said, lowering her gaze.
Liam reached for her arm and steered her inside. “No worries. We’ve got plenty of stuff. Come on in; I’ll introduce you to everybody. I’m really glad you came.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Scarlett let Liam lead her into the front hallway, and then to the living room, all the while trying to ignore the slow heat that was gathering in the place where his fingers lightly touched her elbow. There were about thirty or forty people scattered around the sprawling apartment, which had wood floors, high ceilings, and an eclectic bachelor style straight out of a flea market. Black-and-white photographs in mismatched frames hung on the brightly painted walls, and stacks of books covered an assortment of vintage-looking tables. A few people nodded and waved as Liam and Scarlett walked past. No one seemed to be fazed by her, which was a refreshing change. Scarlett liked flying under the radar, especially after her first semester at USC, where half her classmates wanted to be her BFF (for being on TV) and the rest scorned her mercilessly (for being on TV).
“Can I get you a beer or something?” Liam offered.
“Um, no, I’m good.” Huh? When did Scarlett Harp ever say no to a beer?
“Food? We’ve got pizza, wings, Chinese.”
“Sounds great. I’m starving.”
“Well, let’s take care of that.”
Liam loaded up a couple of paper plates in the kitchen, then guided Scarlett back through the thick crowd, introducing her to various friends along the way. He had apparently graduated from UCLA last spring, so a lot of the guests were fellow alums. Everyone seemed friendly, pleasant, interesting. But Scarlett couldn’t help but tune most of them out. It was like Liam was the only one in the room with her most of the time.
Scarlett and Liam ended up on the back terrace, which overlooked a small yard. Tiki torches flickered in the darkness, illuminating some flowering shrubs and a stone path. They sat down on wooden patio chairs and began digging into their food.
“Mmm, cold shrimp-fried rice, my favorite,” Scarlett teased.
“Yeah, well, we’re pretty fancy here,” Liam replied.
“So, what was your major at UCLA?”
“Film. Cinematography. I wanna get into movies someday.”
“That’s probably more interesting than filming a bunch of girls shopping for nail polish.”
Liam grinned. “Yeah, but definitely not as interesting as filming a girl having Christmas Eve dinner with Mom and Dad in Aspen.”
Scarlett laughed. “Now you know why I need about thirty years of therapy.”
“You? Nah. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
At Liam’s words, Scarlett felt the warm, nervous, giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach that she’d had during the packing-for-Aspen shoot. She picked up a cold egg roll and bit into it, trying to buy a few seconds of time so she could calm down. She tried to think of something else, something other than the warmth/nervousness/giddiness, and the way Liam’s blue eyes were fixed on her face, like he knew exactly what she was thinking about (or trying not to think about).
Small talk, Scarlett told herself. Try some small talk.
“Yeah, so I’m in my freshman year at USC,” she began.
“Really? You mean the same USC where I’ve been filming you for months?” Liam teased her.
Scarlett blushed. Of course he knew where she went to college. What was wrong with her? “Oh, yeah.”
“Sorry. So you like it there?”
“You’ve been there with me the past few months—what do you think?” Before he had a chance to respond, Scarlett realized she didn’t want him to answer that question, so she said, “It’s okay,” and shrugged. “My parents gave me a hard time about not going to a better school.”
“Did you want to go to a better school?”
“I wanted to stay in the area, you know? I mean, Jane and I had a plan. We’d move to L.A. together, she’d get a job in event planning, and I’d go to school.”
“So it all worked out, right?”
“Yeah, except signing on to do a TV show wasn’t part of the plan.”
“What, you’re not into having your life ‘created and produced by Trevor Lord’?”
“Exactly!”
Liam nodded. “From where I’m standing, it’s like you’re a character in a novel, and you’re not sure you like the plot. In fact, sometimes you hate the plot. But there’s nothing you can do about it, because you’re not writing it.”
Did the guy have to be so smart about everything? About her? “Yeah, that’s kinda how it feels sometimes,” Scarlett admitted.
Liam leaned forward in his chair, until their knees were almost touching. “You could just think of the show as a learning opportunity,” he said slowly. “You’re learning what you want and don’t want for yourself. You’re learning what you want and don’t want out of your friendships. You’re learning about the wonderful world of television.” He laughed. “And in the end, you can just bail if that’s what’s right for you, a lot smarter and a little richer, and you can even write a screenplay making fun of all us Hollywood assholes and become a whole lot richer.”
“You’re definitely not a Hollywood asshole,” Scarlett said, impressed.
They stared at each other for a moment. There was a sudden commotion
inside the house, people shouting, “Ten! Nine! Eight!” But Scarlett barely noticed it, because Liam’s face was so close to hers now, and she could smell the warm, musky scent of his skin, and maybe it would be a good idea if she stood up right now and said good night and went straight home….
“I’m glad you don’t think I’m a Hollywood asshole,” Liam said softly. “Does that mean you’re going to let me kiss you at midnight?”
“What?!” Scarlett started to say, but it was too late, because Liam’s lips were already on hers, just as the party guests were screaming, “Happy New Year!” and the noisemakers were going off. As Scarlett leaned into the kiss, she realized she had never fully understood the meaning of the word “swoon” before. But now she did. She was swooning. And it was awesome.
14
CAN U EVER 4GIVE ME?
As Jane walked toward Jesse, she was barely aware of the other guests at h.wood, drinking champagne and laughing and dancing to “Pon de Replay” by Rihanna. Some of their eyes followed her, and she could hear people whispering. (Was it, “Ohmigod, it’s that girl from the show”? Or was it, “Ohmigod, it’s that slut from the magazines”?) She dropped her gaze as she walked through the crowd.
The room was so festive, with long silver streamers hanging from the ceiling; clusters of silver, gold, and black balloons floating up from the tables; and glittery confetti sprinkled across the floor. But Jane didn’t feel very festive right now. She felt terrified. Her heart was racing. Because she was about to do one of the hardest things she had ever done in her life. On-camera. She wished the moment could be more private, but she didn’t care anymore. She had to talk to Jesse, cameras or no cameras.
She went through a bunch of opening lines in her mind.
Hey, listen, we need to talk.
I know you probably hate my guts.
Are you okay?
I’ve been so worried about you.
I miss you. (No, scratch that one.)
I’m so, so sorry.
This was actually not the first time she’d tried to reach out to Jesse since the Gossip incident. Or the second time, if you counted Monday night at STK. She had started to text him on Christmas Eve—there was something about the holidays that made a girl emotional and sentimental about ex-boyfriends—writing, CAN U EVER 4GIVE ME? MERRY CHRISTMAS, JANE.
She had stared at the message forever, her fingers hovering over the Send button. In the end, she had just deleted it, wishing she could be braver, feeling dumb because she was such a coward.
And now…now she was about to face Jesse in person, and look him in the eye, and deliver the apology of her life. Because she was pretty sure that what she had done to him was the worst thing she had done to anybody, ever.
As Jane got closer to Jesse, she saw his date whisper something in his ear. (Could her hot-pink, obnoxious bubble dress be any shorter?) Giggling, Ms. Bubble Dress tucked her clutch under her arm and took off. Good, the coast was clear.
Ms. Bubble Dress had barely disappeared into the swarm of partyers—Jane saw her grab some girl’s arm, and the two of them went off to the ladies’ room, talking closely—when Jesse turned, cell in hand, and noticed Jane. He stared at her, and his beautiful, familiar light brown eyes lit up with…pure rage. Ugh. Jane wondered if he was going to storm off without giving her a chance to speak. But he didn’t move.
“Hey.” Jane approached him, giving him a tentative little wave. Yeah, brilliant opening line.
Jesse didn’t say anything. He tucked his phone into the pocket of his sleek black jacket. Jesse always dressed so well, unlike Braden, who was always more at home in faded tees and jeans, yet who still managed to look hot anyway.
Jane stopped in front of him and tilted her head up to look at him. At five-foot-five, she was at least seven inches shorter than him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked him.
Jesse’s jaw clenched. “What about?”
“I just wanted to…I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know you’ll probably never forgive me, and I don’t expect you to. But I wanted you to know how bad I feel about what happened.”
Jesse glared at her, not saying anything. The volume in the room began to rise—people were shouting, noisemakers were going off, the DJ was making an announcement—but Jane wasn’t paying attention. Getting through to Jesse was all she could think about.
“It really hurt me when you were all over that girl at your birthday party,” Jane went on. “Because I thought that you and I were…well, I thought that you really cared about me and…Anyway, after that night, I wasn’t sure what was gonna happen to us. I was so mad at you. I know that’s no excuse for what I did. I…I have no excuse, and…and…”
Jane’s throat burned as her eyes brimmed with tears. She covered her face with her hands, shaking, trying to stop from breaking down in public, and with the camera guy standing just a few feet away from her, filming everything. It was all catching up to her now: these last few crazy months, meeting Jesse at his and Braden’s house party, falling for Jesse, falling apart when she thought he wasn’t the guy for her, after all…and then Braden coming over to comfort her, offering her a friendly hug that somehow turned into a kiss that somehow turned into more….
Jane felt Jesse’s hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he said in a voice that was gruff and tender at the same time. “You okay?”
Jane sniffed and nodded. She took a moment to try to compose herself. She needed to get this out.
“I know I don’t have any right to ask this,” Jane said, gazing up at him. “But do you think that we could be friends someday?”
Jesse looked away. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
Jane nodded. At least there was hope. That was all she could ask for. She had no idea if she was meant to be with Jesse as more than friends. But she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life. Friendship was better than nothing at all.
Wiping away a tear, Jane realized that everyone in the room was yelling, “Ten! Nine! Eight!” And then Jesse’s date appeared out of nowhere and wrapped her skinny, spray-tanned arms around his neck. The count-down continued: “Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Confetti rained down to a symphony of noisemakers and popping champagne corks and that New Year’s song they always played (what did “Auld Lang Syne” even mean?), and Ms. Bubble Dress stood on her tippy-toes and pressed her artificially plumped lips against his lips. Jane’s heart sank even farther. She should go. But Jesse kind of drew back a little, even as Ms. Bubble Dress kept trying to kiss him, and then Jane realized that he was looking over the girl’s shoulder at her. Their eyes met, and she mouthed the words, I’m sorry, again, as if she couldn’t say them enough, which she couldn’t, and he kind of smiled at her, as if he were trying to let her know that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay between them after all.
Which made this the best New Year’s Eve ever. Even though her life was still a crazy, tangled-up mess.
15
LIE UPON LIE
Scarlett groaned and rubbed her eyes as sunlight flooded her field of vision. What time was it? She glanced over at the alarm clock, which flashed 11:25 a.m. Eleven twenty-five a.m.? How could it be so late in the morning already? Her head felt cloudy, like she had gotten only a couple hours of sleep.
Wait! WTF?
Scarlett did a double take. Where was her beaten-up, retro, turquoise blue alarm clock? This alarm clock was sleek and white and had an iPod dock on top. And now that she thought about it, she didn’t own sheets the color of Cocoa Puffs, either.
She turned slowly, nervously, to check out the other side of the bed.
Liam was lying there, fast asleep.
Scarlett sucked in a deep breath, trying not to panic. What was he doing there? Wait, no—what was she doing here?
She had to get out right now, before he woke up. She searched the room quickly, trying to locate her clothes. Oh. She was still wearing them. And upon closer inspection, she realized that Liam was still wearing his, too.
<
br /> And then it all came back to her.
After the amazing kiss they had shared at the stroke of midnight, a bunch of people spilled out onto the terrace with bottles of champagne. She and Liam had escaped to his room and proceeded to stay up for hours, watching old movies on cable…and making out…and talking…and making out…and eating Ben & Jerry’s out of the carton…and making out…and playing Wii tennis…and making out. She hadn’t intended to spend the night with him; in fact, she remembered thinking at 1 a.m. (and at 2 a.m. and 3 a.m.) that really, it was soooo late and she should go, and that maybe Jane would be home from the lame h.wood party.
But obviously Scarlett had fallen asleep on Liam’s Cocoa Puff–colored sheets instead. With Liam. After a long (and, admittedly, really fun) night of activities that were more “datey” than “casual hookup.” They had talked a lot and she hadn’t had a single drink. The problem was, Scarlett wasn’t into “datey.” She didn’t even remember the last time she’d given a guy her real phone number, much less her real name.
Now all she had to do was make her escape before it was too late.
Scarlett glanced at Liam again. Still asleep. He looked really cute sleeping, and she was kind of tempted to lean over and kiss him.
Scarlett shook her head. She had to focus. The question was, should she just slip away? Or should she leave a note? Something casual and noncommittal along the lines of, Had to run. See you around!
She was carefully trying to slip out of bed when Liam’s eyes blinked open. He smiled lazily at her. “Good morning.”
“Oh! Hey! Hi! I was just”—Scarlett jumped out of the bed and started looking around the room—“leaving. I was trying to find my, uh, shoes. Oh, there they are! Shoes! Well, listen, thanks for everything, and, uh, I’ll see you later!”
Liam sat up. “Wait, Scarlett? Do you want coffee, or—”
Sweet Little Lies Page 8
