Page 51 of Fight For Me

“This is better,” I tell him, examining the stitches. They’re much more uniform than they were the other night. “What is this supposed to be?”

He shrugs. “Who the hell knows? I’m just doing it until the PT fascist tells me it’s enough.”

I tsk. “It has to besomething, Wyatt. You can’t just knit a blob. That’s a waste of yarn.”

He rolls his eyes, but his lips tug up at the corners in amusement. “Fine. What’s the easiest thing to make?”

“Probably a scarf.”

“Not a lot of use for scarves in So Cal in the summer.”

“True.” I look down at his constant shadow. “What about a blanket for George?”

“A blanket sounds complicated.”

I laugh. “It’s a rectangle, Wyatt. It’s probably even easier than a scarf.”

His lips tug up even more. “Fine. But I’m going to need your help.”

“Sure. God knows I’m not sleeping.”

He frowns. “How bad is it?”

Normally, I would brush him off, but I find I don’t have the energy. “It’s not great.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Is there anything I can do?”

Our eyes meet and I see genuine concern there. Concern and something that I think might be affection. Then again, I’ve read him wrong before.

“I wouldn’t say no to some company,” I finally say.

His expression softens. “That I can definitely do.”

It’s kind of strange, how nice it feels to sit here with him. He makes us a pot of tea then works on his knitting while I get all the week’s orders into our inventory software. Every so often I’ll notice his stitches going wonky and stop to help him. We talk a little, about the show and our days. Mostly we work in silence. It’s peaceful. Strange, but peaceful.

The strangest thing, though? When we finally call it a night and I make my way back to my room, I manage to fall right asleep. And then the same thing happens the next night—we stay up together, working and knitting, and then I sleep. And then again the night after that. Knitting with Wyatt apparently has some kind of magical powers, because I sleep better that week than I have since we started the show.

Alex

“This is going to be fun,” Everly says, narrowing her eyes at me in the bathroom mirror. “Why don’t you look excited?”

I roll my eyes as I lean forward to finish applying highlighter to the tops of my cheekbones. “Pretty sure you’re excited enough for the both of us, babe.”

She laughs. “Story of our life, right?”

Geri, one of the camera operators, shifts behind us, her camera coming into view in the mirror, and I do my best not to wince. I’m still not used to them hovering like that. Fox bitches like crazy about the pre-scripted scenes Scott has us recording, but I think I prefer them to these candid moments. How am I supposed to act natural and go about my day with a camera following me around?

“You guys almost ready?” Fox asks, sticking his head through the doorway.

“Get in here,” Everly directs. “Let me see what you’re wearing.”

He rolls his eyes as he comes to stand in front of her. “You know that I’m a fully grown adult, right?” he asks. “I’ve been dressing myself for several years now, actually.”

She ignores him as she looks him up and down. He’s wearing faded jeans, a graphic tee from our line, and a leather jacket. His white blond hair, so like his dad’s, has that swoop across the forehead thing going on that he tries to make look natural but I know for a fact involves at least twenty minutes of mirror time every day. He looks nice. But I can already tell Everly won’t approve.

Sure enough, she shakes her head. “Too casual.”

Fox rolls his eyes. “We’re going to a bar.”