Later, the catering truck arrives with dinner, and the crew heads that way. I help stack the last of the crash mats and linger as the others head in.
“I’m gonna catch Andy before dinner,” I tell them, and they promise to save me a spot.
But when I stride away from the catering truck and toward the rest of the trailers, it’s not Andy I’m heading for.
Christine still hasn’t emerged from her trailer.
I test the door, and when it’s unlocked, I step in. My eyes and mouth water, and nausea churns in my core. Fuck, this place stinks of her scent.
She sits at the trailer’s table wearing a t-shirt and yoga pants and looks up as I enter.
“Mylo.” Surprise flickers across her face—or a convincing facsimile of it, at least. I don’t know anymore.
I close the door behind me and lean against it, crossing my arms. My shoulder complains, but I ignore it.
My gaze doesn’t falter. “You want to fucking explain yourself?”
“Mylo, I?—”
“Actually, you know what? I don’t want to fucking hear it. I’ll do what I need to do for the cameras. What Ihaveto do to keep my job. Do you know what that’s like? How much fuckingleverage you throw around, without a care for who it crashes into or whose life it ruins?”
“Mylo, please just let me?—”
“Let you what, lie to me again? Show off those Oscar-winning skills? You’re a damn good actor, I’ll give you that. I actually thought—” I push off the door, taking a step toward her, rage boiling in my veins. The trailer feels like a hundred degrees and sweat beads on my skin, but I don’t care. “Iactually. Thought. You cared.”
Christine pushes to her feet, and as she towers above me, my heart twists in my chest.
“I’ll let you say a lot of crap to me right now, but don’t youdaresay I don’t care?—”
“Idareto say whatever the fuck I want! You’re not some magical being we’re all blessed to be in the presence of! I don’t care how much Lana wants to suck your dick, but you almostkilledme today, okay? I told you it wasfuckingdangerous, but you didn’t listen.”
“Please, Mylo—” Christine steps closer, jaw tight, but I hold my ground, even as my head tips back to meet her eyes.
“I know you always need the spotlight, but what theactualfuck were you thinking? Anything for Lana to call you a ‘genius,’ though. And moving that fight to today, was that your idea too? You must have some kind of sick plan, because what kind of person?—”
Christine grabs my face. “Mylo!”
Her hands burn my cheeks—why is everything so hot?!
For the second time, I’m stunned into silence.
Our shaking breath mingles between us.
Her eyes search mine, and her shaking hand sweeps around to grasp my hair. The other slides down, settling on my good shoulder.
She leans down, breath tracing over my ear and dripping across my skin, sending a tingling spreading from the base of my neck, which her grip lays bare.
Her lips brush the skin there, then her nose slides into my hair, and she takes a deep breath.
I tremble in her grasp, mind utterly still.
As her lips drift to the shell of my ear, her voice sends me violently shuddering.
“Mylo… you’re not a beta, are you?”
I grasp for rational thought, for some way to deflect or deny, but it’s useless. I just breathe, eyes rolling back, body rippling with heat.
And then my body betrays me as a quiet, plaintive whimper ofneedtightens in my throat.
