Page 58 of Hallpass

I leaned back against the wall of the trailer, head thunking gently against the flimsy panel. The light buzzed overhead. A muffled voice from the sound stage carried through the door. Someone yelled “cut.”

My phone buzzed again.

Another message from my publicist.

Another article link.

Another picture of her — wide-eyed, flushed, mouth just barely parted as I kissed her like I meant it.

Of course I meant it.

I turned the phone over so I didn’t have to see it. But it didn’t matter. That image was already branded on the backs of my eyelids.

I hadn’t meant to fall for her.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to convince myself I hadn’t.

Now I was in a trailer in a borrowed hoodie, pretending like I could fix it with good press and a few fake smiles.

I dropped my head into my hands and laughed. Soft. Miserable.

“Yeah,” I whispered, to no one in particular. “I’m so fucked.”

My phone rang. I was just going to ignore it. Send it straight to voicemail. But… something told me to turn it over.

JUNE BUG

“Hey!” I’d never answered a call so quickly, my phone almost slipping through my fingers.

“I’ll do it.” Her voice was soft on the other side, almost as if…

God, if I’d made her cryagain.

I sat up straighter. “You will?”

“Don’t make me say it twice.”

I smiled — I couldn’t help it. “You’re going to fake date me?”

A pause. Then, “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late,” I said, quietly.

Another pause. But I could hear the edge of a smile in her voice too. She sighed. “I don’t want you to think this means anything.”

“It doesn’t,” I lied.

“This is just PR,” she said. “A chance for me to help my childhood idol.”

“Of course.”

“That’s it.”

“I understand.”

“And we’re not actually together.”

“Nope.”