A few of the other cast members are brought up on the stage, including Elena, and for the next few minutes we joke around and take group shots, but Larsen is never out of my watchful eye.
One of the other cast members makes a joke, but I miss it completely as Tessa says something to Larsen that has her throwing her head back in laughter. Her sleek neck draws my attention like a vampire needing his meal.
I walk in her direction, leaving the group who begin to scatter in the opposite direction. I’m possessed, a man without a grasp of the reality surrounding me.
Tessa startles as I draw closer to them, but not Larsen, she gazes at me with a knowing smile and when I crash our mouths together, she counters my kiss with her own.
“Ew, this is why I moved out.” Both of our chests shake as we try to hide our laughter.
“Come on, I hear this movie has a really handsome guy playing the lead.” I point out as Larsen wipes some red staining from her lipstick away from my lips.
Taking her hand in mine, I lead her across the stage, not stopping for more photos. I’m sure they got enough of me kissing my personal leading lady just now.
“Oh, really? What’s his name?”
“Devyn Dane, I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
Playing along as we duck inside the theater, Larsen adds, “Nope, never heard of him. Is he hot?”
“He’s pretty good looking. But I hear he’s madly in love with his girlfriend and rumor is that they’re engaged.”
A smile grows on Larsen’s lips, a mix of sweet and sexy. “Really? So you don’t think I have a chance?”
“No one does. Now, be quiet.” I quiet her mouth with another searing kiss as people settle in around us. “The movie is starting.”
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Between the Lines.
CHAPTER ONE
QUINN
THE CAR JOSTLES ME back and forth as it jerks with every bump and hole in the road. Nope, this isn’t the worn-down country road you’re imagining. It’s a four-lane major highway heading toward my destination—home. A place I haven’t stepped foot into in the past six years.
Another bump knocks the water bottle from my lips and onto my lap, soaking through my white denim shorts.
Great.
“Fuckity, fuck, fuck,” I screech, bopping in the seat as the cool water flows into each tiny crevice of my legs and clothing.
A horn honks loudly from the car next to me, and I look up hastily to swerve back into my lane. My chest heaves as I gather air in my lungs, my knuckles turning white against the black leather steering wheel.
Needing a moment to gather myself, I veer the car over to the shoulder, moving across the other lane of traffic. The car, of course, hits another deep pothole, and I pray the tire doesn’t burst from the impact.
Finally situated on the side of the road, I snag my sweatshirt from the back and place it under myself on the seat. Unfortunately, I can do little about my wet shorts. Hopefully when I arrive at Izzy’s place she’ll have a fresh pair I can slide on before I unpack. Or, which is more likely, they’ll be somewhat dry by the time I arrive.
My best friend, Izzy, is the only reason I plan to return to our town just outside of Houston, Texas. When my agent suggested that I get a little rest and relaxation before I start filming my next movie, I had no intention of leaving Los Angeles, California. LA is my home now, but the very night my agent Priscilla made her suggestion, I was jolted out of bed when a box crashed to the floor in my closet. Once I had finally calmed down and made sure there wasn’t anyone trying to attack me in my condo, I had discovered my box of photo albums had been the offending item to scare me shitless. And when I investigated further, walking amongst the scattered images, my gaze landed on a picture of myself, my best friend, and her brother.
It had been from my first summer in Dale City, Texas. My family had up and moved two weeks prior when my dad’s job relocated, and I was ecstatic to learn that there was a girl my age living across the street, I had visions of us being the best of friends, as close as sisters, because I had no siblings. When I found out that she had a brother, my body turned into a permanent piece of petrification. Coming from an all-girls middle school, my experience with boys was very limited. Clothing, makeup, hair? I knew nothing of it. My mom and dad were doctors who lived in scrubs and counted their days by the surgeries they had scheduled.