Even though I know she can’t see me through the lattice wall, I get up and tread further into the park, away from the beach.
When I’m safely out of view, I type out a text to Austin.
ME:Eleven out of ten.
I’m sure they have enough. If you guys want to have a swim, I can grab a cold drink somewhere and pick you up in an hour or so.
My heart begins to pound as I wait for his reply.
AUSTIN:No need. We’ll get an Uber. I might grab Evie dinner, so if u wanna head out to dance class or something, go ahead, bro.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to snap back at him with a harsh reply that I’ll later regret. The last thing I want is to get into a fight with Austin, but he just hit multiple nerves—telling me he’s about to spend the whole evening with Evieandgiving me permission to go to a lesson, like he’s my goddamn father.
Instead of typing anything, I shove my phone in my pocket and trudge back to the car so I can head home to grab my hiking boots and escape to the national park.
CHAPTER 12
Evie
I run my sweaty palm along the velvet couch in the lobby of the city skyscraper that houses Village Pictures’ executive offices, waiting for my agent to burst through the revolving door and save me. Martina is coming to hold my hand through the scary meeting I’m about to endure with the senior producers ofMoving.
Just after seven this morning, I woke to Mum lightly shaking my shoulder. My eyelids were still glued shut when she shoved her phone in my face.
‘What’s this about?’ she asked as I blinked hard to wake myself up, pushing onto my elbows and peering at the news website. Instantly, I was wide awake.
At the very top of the homepage was a photo of Austin and me on the sand, lip-locked and clawing at each other, our limbs tangled up in a lustful bow. The accompanying headline read: ‘Austin Reynolds and His New Co-Star Turn Up the Heat at the Beach!’
‘You’re dating anactor?’ Mum asked. Her tone made me wonder if she got the word ‘actor’ confused with ‘mafia hit-man’.
‘Not exactly,’ I replied, unable to prise my gaze off the virtually pornographic image gallery on the screen. I’d thrown my whole body into that kiss so it would look authentic, and I guess it paid off with dividends. Kye had been clear that Austin and I had tosell itthis time, so that’s what I did. Turns out, I’m a more convincing actor than I thought.
Truthfully, I felt nothing good when Austin had pulled me on top of him on the beach, damp clumps of sand chafing my knees as he’d darted his tongue in and out of my mouth like a lizard. It actually made the back of my throat convulse with a little gag.
So much for getting my name in the papersandfalling in love with my childhood crush in one swing. I can’t seem to drum up an ounce of genuine interest in Austin. My teenage self would be outraged.
But at least Kye’s plan had worked. A smile edged my mouth as I read the article, which was mostly aboutMovingand how audiences could expect sizzling on-screen chemistry between Austin and me. Honestly, if I’d been anyone else reading this piece, I’d have been lining up for a ticket to see that film myself.
Six hours later, though, I’m waiting at the Village Pictures corporate headquarters with bitten-down fingernails because Austin and I have been called in for a high-priority meeting with the head honchos to talkabout the press coverage. Panic struck me immediately when they rang: we hadn’t informed them about the pretend relationship yet because Kye wanted to get a head-start before they got involved.
When I called Martina and asked if she thought I was about to be fired, she laughed and explained that the PR and marketing executives probably just want to find out what’s going on and figure out a media strategy moving forward.
I peek through the lobby’s glass walls at the traffic-riddled street, a whirr of office workers rushing in all directions, clutching shopping bags and wrapped sandwiches. It’s no surprise that Austin is late, but where is Martina?
Beyond the lobby’s reception desk, the lift doors glide open and a handful of chattering people spill out. I pin them as studio heads, judging by their sharply tailored suits, except for the last man to step out, who’s wearing a casual polo-neck shirt, and—
My gut hits the carpet.
What the …
My father, one of the most instantly recognisable people on the planet, iswalking towards me, across the lobby, like a Madame Tussauds wax figure come to life.
What the fuck?
I can’t locate my lungs. Am I breathing?
One of the suited women is speaking to Gabriel, and as they pace past me, his blue-eyed gaze slides to the right and smashes into mine.
The world comes to a grinding halt.
