‘I didn’t say that.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s just you weren’t supposed to see.’
Cesca rolled her eyes. ‘Is this some kind of retaliation? Are you still trying to push me out? You must think I’m a terrible writer to want to screw me over twice.’
‘You’re being irrational.’
She let out an exasperated shriek. ‘There’s nothing irrational about me. You’re the one behaving like a shit.’
His eyes narrowed. There was a tic in his jaw. ‘I’m not a shit.’
‘You interfered with my play. You wrote all over it.’
‘It was good.’ His voice was low. ‘I just wanted to make it better.’
‘I don’t care what you think,’ she shouted back. ‘I don’t care about your opinion at all. I just want you to leave me alone.’
His lips twisted as he stared at her. ‘Are you finished?’ he asked, the words whistling through his teeth.
She wasn’t, not by a long chalk, but she was starting to feel light-headed. It wasn’t from relief or a sense of righteousness or any of the things she’d thought she’d have once she’d got everything off her chest. More likely a combination of the heat and the long walk.
‘Yes.’
He was like an animal waiting to pounce. She held her breath, anticipating his response. But instead of the fury she’d expected, what he gave her was an icy control.
‘Then so am I.’
14
There is no following her in this fierce vein
– A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Sam made it back to the villa in record time. He couldn’t even remember the walk, or the way he’d muttered to himself, or even how his hands had curled into fists at regular intervals. The need to hit something was becoming a compulsion, as if slamming his hands against a surface would rid him of his rage.
Was she right? he wondered. Did everybody really think of him that way? He was used to being disliked by some – it came with the territory when you were made out to be some kind of Hollywood heart-throb – but for the majority of his life love and admiration had come easily to him. His father excluded, of course.
Cesca’s anger conjured up memories of Foster. He and Cesca both seemed to hate Sam’s guts. If he could bring out such a strong reaction in people, then maybe there was some truth in what she had to say. Was he really that much of a shit?
Sam walked into his bathroom, splashing cold water onto his heated face. He’d been an idiot for coming here.
An even bigger fool for staying after Cesca had made it clear how much she hated him.
He stared into the mirror above the basin, his eyes narrowing as he took in the image reflected back at him. Dark wavy hair, inherited from his mother, as well as her clear blue eyes and Roman nose. His tan he got from mother nature, but the rest of his face must have come from his father. The high cheekbones and sensual lips that people raved about online, the sharp jaw that always seemed to grow a five o’clock shadow no matter how hard he shaved. A face loved by millions, but hated by those who were important to him. He could barely stand to look at it himself.
When Cesca had stood in front of him, her face glowing with anger, he’d felt an urge to touch her. To hold her. To take away the pain in her eyes. His therapist had once told him that anger was only pain trying to fight against itself. If it were true, that would mean he’d caused her to feel that way, and that thought made his chest ache.
More and more he was remembering that girl from six years ago. The one who almost bounced into the theatre with excitement each morning. The one who had explained Daniel’s motivations to him, talked him through each scene, and unabashedly encouraged him to show all the emotion he could.
He didn’t like the way that memory made him feel. Like that kid he had been, all vulnerable and hurt. His relationships were like a walking time bomb, and it was only a matter of time before this one exploded, too. He didn’t need a friend, and he definitely didn’t need to be attracted to her. He just needed to lie low until the fallout from his last fuck-up disappeared.
For as long as it took.
*
Cesca spent an hour aimlessly wandering the grounds, feeling the sun beating down on her bare skin. She hadn’t put any sunscreen on in her haste to give Sam a piece of her mind, and she could already feel herself pinking up. Not that she cared. What was a little sunburn compared to everything else? If anything it was helping to ease the guilt she was feeling at blowing up at Sam so much.
She’d gone a little over the top. OK, more than a little. She’d reacted purely from anger, not bothering to temper her words, saying things so unkind they made her blush. Cesca wasn’t a horrible person, not really. Wherever possible she tried to treat people with friendliness and respect. But there was something in Sam’s actions that had triggered her anger once again, taking her back to those awful days when her world came crashing around her feet.
Eventually she made it back into the villa, still unable to shake off the uncomfortable feeling from her shoulders. Grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, she found her way to the library, trying to ignore the way her skin was stinging from exposure to the afternoon sun.