by India Lee
Amanda swallowed, her chest heaving with anger. She opened her mouth to call Liam the idiot that she was certain he was in that very moment but instead, her lips betrayed her. “Fine,” she said begrudgingly, heaving a sigh between her teeth. She glared up at him, her eyes still blazing despite her words of encouragement. “I know you can do it. I’m just scared.”
Liam pulled her into his chest. “I know,” he laughed gently into her hair. “It’s cute.”
“Now is not the time to call me cute.”
“Alright. I’m sorry,” Liam apologized, though Amanda could still hear the tinge of charmed amusement in his voice. She closed her eyes as she felt his hands run through her hair. “I don’t mean to scare you.”
“Well you do.”
“I know. But I promise you have nothing to worry about, baby.”
Damn it. Amanda let herself melt into Liam’s body for a moment. It was the first time he’d called her baby and she’d never anticipated that it would feel so good. “Just go and get it over with,” she exhaled, her voice small despite her irritated words.
Amanda remained standing at the edge of the pool as one of the assistants ushered Liam off to get changed into swim gear. She was certain she had sufficiently calmed herself while he was gone but the moment Liam returned in black swim trunks, Amanda felt her heart begin thumping again. In all fairness, it was half because of how laughably good he looked — like an Olympic swimming gold medalist, Amanda decided, though the Olympic-sized pool probably did something to influence that image. Studying Liam — the defined lines of muscle on all parts of his body, the perfect, golden tan he had gotten from the North Carolina sun — Amanda managed a real smile despite the fact that her knees were still trembling with nervousness. It didn’t hurt that he kept his eyes locked on her the entire way to the end of the pool, giving a wink before finally breaking his stare and appearing to put on his game face to get serious.
Waiting at the edge, two lanes of water separating her from Liam, Amanda did her best not to scowl as the crew of assistants debated on the best deliberately nonchalant way to film the video and make it look “totally impromptu — like we didn’t just plan it.”
Finally, once Terrence and a handful of others were poised with their smart phones in hand to capture the swim, somebody blew a whistle. Amanda froze with trepidation as she watched Liam’s long frame jump into the pool alongside the similarly six-foot-plus Pararescue reserve, performing a casual front flip before starting his underwater glide across the fifty meters as if it were any normal day. Eyes glued to the pool, Amanda felt her feet carry her body beside Liam at the surface, her stare fixed on every last inch of him, prepared to detect any odd movement, twitch or sign that he might be struggling. By the time she had followed him for over a hundred feet, Terrence and the others began a low murmur of excitement.
“See, Manda? Look at this guy! No sweat!”
Amanda ignored him as he kept following Liam with her eyes on nothing but his body. Please don’t let Terrence jinx it, she prayed silently, watching Liam as he gave each smooth, deliberate kick to float himself further up the pool.
“Oh, come on, Liam, don’t slow down now!” Terrence suddenly shouted. “That only makes it harder!” he added with a laugh that unsuccessfully masked the actual anxiety in his voice.
Oh please God, no. Amanda felt her heart in her throat as her feet slowed to a near stop. Liam was slowing down. Unless it was her imagination, he had actually stopped for a solid moment. Without a second thought, she kicked off her heels. But just as she prepared herself to dive into the water, Terrence and the crew began their cheering again.
“Fuckin’ there you go, buddy, he’s almost there! Manda, put your shoes back on!”
Amanda looked back out at the water, realizing that Liam was not only swimming again but yards ahead of her now. Oh God, thank you God. She ran on her bare feet, as quick as she could in her tight leather dress until she reached the end of the fifty meter pool just as Liam touched the wall, letting the lifeguard at the other end pull him out enough to grip the edge of the ground and suck in a long breath of air as Terrence’s assistants ran to catch a final shot for their videos.
She couldn’t remember how she got there, but the next thing Amanda knew, she was kneeling at the edge of the pool, her leather dress splashed with pool water and her hands pressed against Liam’s jaws again, somehow as breathless as he was as she planted kisses on his lips.
“Hey, let the man catch his breath!”
Amanda ignored Terrence, grateful to feel the strength in Liam’s touch as he cupped her face back, returning her kiss. “That was really good,” she whispered, laughing despite how much her body still trembled. “But you scared the shit out of me, asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” he grinned through his panting, pulling away from her to look into her eyes. “Christ,” he laughed breathlessly before kissing her again. “Don’t cry.”
She shot him a look. “I’m not crying.”
“Okay.”
Amanda frowned as she touched her face, realizing it wasn’t pool water on her cheek. “Just come out of there, okay?” she pleaded quietly, tugging on his arm.
Liam exhaled, resting his head on the edge of the tile. “Can’t. Too tired. You come here.”
“Okay.”
Prompting hoots across the Aquatics Center, Amanda hopped into the pool, letting Liam pull her into him, water from his wet eyelashes dripping onto the tip of her nose as he kissed her, pulling away to catch his breath for long enough to kiss her again.
JUST A VIDEO OF LIAM BRODY BEING SUPER HOT AND SUPERHUMAN
The Durt
July 3rd
Remember when we used to hate Liam Brody? Yeah. Well, those days are long and far gone. How can you hate a man who’s 6’4, 220 pounds of pure muscle and dating the adorable and ever-jittery Amanda Nathan? The poor girl most definitely flirted with a full-on panic attack last night but at least she would’ve been hyperventilating with an absolutely gorgeous new look while wearing the very latest Thierry Marc!
But starting from the beginning.
Last night, batshit crazy-but-mostly genius director, Terrence Rambis, challenged Liam Brody to a swim off with just some ol’ Pararescue reserve at the Aquatics Center at Chelsea Piers, daring the two real-life supermen to go head-to-head in a 50 meter swim under water on a single breath of air because risking the life of your film’s star is a thing that Terrence Rambis does.
In case you didn’t know, holding your breath for 50 meters is part of the actual Pararescue training pipeline, which consists of such activities as jumping from airplanes, diving into 130 foot deep waters, swimming 4000 meters in under 80 minutes and other generally horrific/impossible tasks. Most humans are incapable of completing even one of these activities so don’t feel bad about yourself and how you’re currently shoving Flavor Blast Fritos into your mouth while laying on your couch with your laptop on your stomach.
Anyway.
Not to be morbid, but people totally pass out and sometimes die attempting the 50 meter breath hold. The good news is that Liam Brody is not one of those people. In an approximately minute-long video that has gone quickly viral since its 2AM upload, our favorite Hollywood soldier swims gracefully across the pool at Chelsea Piers as girlfriend Amanda Nathan stilettos across the surface beside him, having a very pitiful, very fashionable nervous breakdown because watching your boyfriend risk his life can sometimes be stressful. Remarkably, however, Liam completes his swim beautifully and even finishes a couple seconds before his real-life Pararescue counterpart. Guess ol’ Rambis isn’t crazy after all — Liam really can and did do everything an elite soldier does… so someone call the Academy and put a ‘Reserved’ sticker on the statue for Best Actor in a Leading Role ‘cause Superman’s got this shit on lock!
Anyway, after beasting the 50 meter challenge, a fairly breathless Liam pulled himself out of the water enough to plant a long, reassuring kiss on the lips of his spooked sweetheart, forev
er cementing his place in our hearts as our collective pretend boyfriend. And on the topic of that kiss, props to Amanda Nathan for being able to kneel in that skintight leather mini! We see you getting more style savvy by the day, girl, and we like it! We even like the fact that you decided to go big and completely wreck your fabulous dress by jumping into the pool to be with your god of a boyfriend — total fashion crime against an original Thierry Marc, but never has something so wrong looked so completely right (and friggin’ adorable, by the way).
So, three cheers for Liamanda! You both are killin’ it and killing us by being so damned cute. Don’t you ever change!
Chapter 5
With the alarm on her phone ringing incessantly, Amanda stared up at her paint-chipped ceiling. She could tell that she’d been officially introduced back into the Manhattan swing of things because she’d barely gotten over Liam’s brush with death last night and yet she already had something new to worry about: her first day working under Tom Vogel.
Since Terrence had swept Liam away for some men-only bonding after leaving Chelsea Piers last night, Amanda had gone home alone, which had been more than a bit of a bummer for various reasons. Perhaps she had been riding his wave of adrenaline, but Amanda had been fully convinced of two things after Liam’s completion of the insane fifty meter swim.
She wanted to tell him that she loved him.
And then she wanted to have sex with him.
Unfortunately, she did neither and this time, it had more to do with Terrence Rambis than it did her own nerves. Thank you, Terrence, Amanda thought bitterly as she trudged across her studio into the bathroom. Risk my boyfriend’s life and then take him away from me after when all I want to do is be with him because he’s alive and not comatose. As she brushed her teeth, Amanda read her text from Ian.
Maybe it’s for the better that it didn’t happen last night. You need all your energy for work today — show those TV vets that Emmys don’t intimidate you! You’re Amanda F*ckin’ Nathan. You’re about to make Leadoff the best show on TV. F*ck the competition.
With a mouth full of toothpaste, Amanda snorted. Along with his new role as the eternal optimist in her life, Ian was now also that friend who censored his profanity. She had yet to completely get used to all his new changes, but as long as they helped him recover, she supported them.
Especially since they hadn’t spoken once of Casey since he’d gotten out of rehab. “F*ck the competition” was about as close as they'd gotten and it was actually a pretty huge step. Rereading his text, Amanda vaguely recalled something that Harper had said the day that had first met, when Ian had briefly stepped away. "Acknowledgement is positive. He needs to eventually express all of his anger. Hopefully, it will be in a positive way."
Amanda wasn't exactly sure what a positive way of expressing anger was, but she certainly hoped that Harper would help Ian find it considering what help she was good for. On her first day of work, she was already suffering from a particularly bad case of the Mondays.
Stupid Casey. Stupid Terrence. She blinked, her memories from before the fifty meter swim returning. And stupid Connor!
Amanda tore through her closet as she recalled the double date at Lilac, realizing that Connor actually couldn't have been more clear in his insinuations last night. Being the only person in Liam's life who was aware of their initially contracted relationship, he knew the most about her and he quite obviously judged her.
"She always knows exactly what she's doing... She does move on quickly."
He was totally talking about how I dated Dylan after Liam. He thinks I’m just some gold digger, Amanda realized, grinding her teeth. And he thinks I'm going to suck at my job.
He couldn't have been more clear with those insinuations either. But unfortunately, to his credit, Amanda had been unable to answer his questions about what exactly she could offer to Leadoff. She had no idea herself — though armed with her indignant Monday morning angst, Amanda was suddenly determined to prove to Connor incredibly wrong and show him how very capable she would be actually as a television writer.
Rifling through her closet, Amanda finally landed on a first day ensemble that spoke to her, pulling it on with haste.
Thank God for Wendy.
Amanda turned to her side as she checked out her reflection in her mirror. The Thierry Marc pantsuit had been one of the many Wendy-gifted additions to her wardrobe from the past few months. She had meant to get it tailored so that the pants weren’t quite so long on her but since she hadn’t, the three-inch heels she’d worn on her birthday would have to be her solution.
Fake it till you make it.
Connor clearly didn’t think that she had any idea what it meant to be a professional writer, but even if she didn’t, she could at least fake it until she did. And part of faking it, Amanda figured, was dressing like someone in the industry. Someone who had a sense of style to go with her confidence and ability to run with the big shot TV veterans who had been nabbing Emmys before she’d even entered high school.
“Goddamn, Amanda, look at you!”
Amanda’s eyes fluttered with surprise upon stepping out of her building. There was a lone paparazzo outside of her apartment, which was for some reason more startling than a mob of them. Maybe it was his gravelly voice. Or the fact that she hadn’t seen him before when peering out of her curtain — something she did every morning before stepping out. Amanda eyed the scraggly goatee she could see under the paparazzo’s low-worn green Mets cap as she walked down the block with her arm raised, hoping for a cab to stop at any second.
“I like this look, this professional girl look. And look at you, making those heels work for any occasion. Good work — I’m a big fan!”
Amanda ignored him, though her eyes narrowed for a second. Did he really just notice that she was wearing the same shoes as she’d been on her birthday? As a cab finally slowed at the corner of her block, Amanda let herself take another peek at the lone cameraman. She couldn’t see much below his cap but that scraggly blonde goatee and an odd little smile as he stood still, his Nikon lowered. She hadn’t even heard it snapping any pictures throughout her twenty second walk.
Really don’t have time to think about this weirdo, Amanda shook her head as she unzipped her cognac leather briefcase upon sliding into the backseat of the cab. It had an alligator handle, shiny golden hardware and a price tag that exceeded even that of her new wardrobe combined. Upon getting out of rehab, Ian had gifted the stunning bag to her — as something of a thank you and a congratulations for nabbing such a prestigious job. Running her fingers along the buttery leather, Amanda remembered his expression upon hearing the news of her spot on Tom Vogel’s writing staff. His instinct had been that of shock, glee and the kind of Ian-like excitement that she was relieved he was still capable of after everything he’d been through. But then, after soaking in the news for a couple minutes, there had been a hint of something else in his eyes.
“Kind of speaks to how ass-kicking you are that you managed to accomplish this despite how many times I almost screwed it all up for the both of us,” he’d said with a laugh that didn’t quite mask the glint of shame in his eyes. “I don’t think there’s enough air in my lungs to apologize enough for all the shit I put you through. But I promise I’ll make it right.”
Amanda stared out the window as the cab drove up Third Avenue, the leather briefcase heavy in her lap. Ian had in fact put her through more chaos and drama than she could have ever fathomed, but she hadn’t forgotten the fact that she would’ve still been stuck in Merit, Missouri were it not for him. It had taken his rash impulsiveness to get her to New York. It had been his unwavering assertiveness that she’d relied on throughout her unpredictable journey from small town nobody to beloved celebrity. He had been blindly driven and unflappably passionate and while his high-risk personality traits had benefited her greatly, they had led to his own messy downfall.
My fault, Amanda swallowed as the cab pulled up to the famous Waltman Global Media buildi
ng in Midtown, where the ZINC offices were located. He saved me from Merit but I couldn’t save him from Casey. She simply hadn’t the instinct then, or the savvy. She hadn’t the eyes to recognize the act of manipulation then.
But I do now.
Stepping out of the cab, Amanda took in a deep breath. Steady on her heels, she stood on the sidewalk, soaking in the towering glass and steel presence of the famous Waltman Global tower with its fifty-one stories and floor-to-ceiling windows, boasting clear views of all the bustling activity inside. Smoothing down the front of her strong shoulder blazer, Amanda made her way for doors.
Connor, she suddenly remembered, was the tiniest fraction of the reason why she had to succeed at her job at Leadoff. The real reason was Casey. For what she had done to Ian and what she could still very well do to Amanda and to Liam. Taking down the show that drove Casey to pull all her diabolical little stunts wasn’t a whole lot, but it was all Amanda had — at least for now. And so she intended to go at it with every ounce of force she had in her body. That kind of effort, hopefully, would lead to finding more ways to bring Casey and her little Legacy down.
Tightly gripping the alligator handle on her briefcase, her nose held high in the air, Amanda waltzed through the front doors and into the iconic building.
~
Her elevator ride from the first to forty-eighth floor had indicated to Amanda that she’d done everything right — worn the right suit, the right brand, the right shoes and most certainly carried the right briefcase. Even the Donna Karan-clad journalist whose face she recognized from cable news had to pause and ask Amanda where her bag was from. That was supposed to be a good omen, a sign that all would be well on her first day of work.
Unfortunately, as she stood in the doorway of the writer’s room at the ZINC offices on the forty-ninth floor, Amanda was quickly realizing how misinformed she had been on how to fit in with other television writers.
