Page 2 of Shine For Me

A fact Fox is clearly aware of, based on the way he’s got the charm turned up full blast.

I allow myself a moment just to watch him in action, marveling yet again at how good he is at this crap. For someone who’s only been in the business for a little more than two years, Fox plays the role well. He has a great memory for names, a talent for making people feel like his primary focus whenever he talks to them, and the looks to take him far in this business.

But there’s something else, too. That indefinable spark that certain people in this industry have been blessed with. I recognized it the first time we met, seeing as how I’m no stranger to that spark myself, having been raised around the cream of the crop of Hollywood stars.

It’s hard to describe, that combination of confidence, sincerity, and charm, but whatever it is, Fox Ransome has it.

That’s probably why he went from staring in a cable network reality show to headlining a major action blockbuster in the span of two years.

He’s good at this part, too. The making nice with the executives and money guys part that I hate so much. Somehow Fox manages it without seeming smarmy or stuck up. No, Fox is always fully himself in these situations. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone in my life with such a strong sense of their own identity. It’s attractive as hell.

I sigh to myself.Really brain?I wonder.Do we really need to get on board the mooning-over-Fox-Ransome-train already?I’m not even inside the ballroom yet, and there’s a long damn night to get through.

“You okay?” Fox asks, and I blink, realizing belatedly that Lou Booker has disappeared, leaving us alone.

“You zoned out a little there,” Fox continues.

“Oh, God,” I mutter, guilt and fear twisting in my belly. “Was I rude to him?” The last thing I need is for my grandfather to find out I offended someone with deep pockets at his birthday party. The mere thought has a bead of sweat forming at the bottom of my spine.

“You were fine,” Fox says, giving me a worried look before his jaw clenches in annoyance. “Asshole wouldn’t have noticed if you were talking anyhow,” he mutters half under his breath.

Then it hits me. “That’s why he was familiar,” I say, smacking Fox’s shoulder. “Boob Looker!”

Fox barks out a surprised laugh. “What?”

“Lou Booker! We call him Boob Looker because he’s physically incapable of dragging his eyes north of a woman’s collarbones.”

Fox has to bend at the waist he’s laughing so hard. We’re garnering quite a bit of attention in this swanky, stuck-up crowd, but I couldn’t care less. Making Fox Ransome laugh is by far the best part of my night.

“That’s terrible,” he says, wiping at his eyes as his face grows more serious. “You shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that.”

I shrug. “That’s Hollywood, babe.”

“It’s still bullshit.”

I gesture at the crowd of cameras just outside the door. “They weren’t taking our pictures because of what’s in our brains, Fox.”

His eyes glint. “Pity for them. They don’t know they’re in the presence of the Kingswood Day School spelling bee champion two years running.”

I blink a few times, surprised he remembers me telling him that little fact about my childhood, while trying to keep my eyes from going all heart shaped.

This crush is getting more inconvenient by the day.

“And they also don’t know you are a giant chess nerd.”

Fox sighs, looking toward the ballroom. “I know half the people in this town were probably dying for an invitation to your grandfather’s party, and this probably sounds totally ungrateful, but I would so much rather be home playing chess right now than spending the night here.”

And this is the biggest reason I love spending time with Fox. It’s not his magazine cover good looks or his ability to charm asshole Hollywood guys with deep pockets. It’s the fact that he doesn’t fall for all this crap. Maybe it’s because he grew up in a family full of famous musicians or maybe it’s just his personality. Regardless, Fox has no illusions as to what the celebrity scene is really all about.

I feel a rush of gratitude for whichever reality show producer first had the idea that this guy would look good on camera. If he had never been discovered, he wouldn’t be standing here with me right now. He wouldn’t have been around to keep me company on three different sets or for all the promo that went along with those movies. I’d be walking into this party alone. And I wouldn’t have this friend—the best friend I’ve ever had, if I’m being honest.

“Let’s make the rounds and maybe we can sneak out early,” I tell him. “We could stop at In-and-Out on our way home. Or that taco truck you like on Sunset.”

Fox holds his arm out for me, impossibly blue eyes twinkling under the light from the massive overhead chandelier. “I knew I loved you for a reason.”

For just one moment I allow myself to believe he means it. That we’re not here merely as co-workers who hang out sometimes. That we entered the party together because we’retogether, not because we’re about to start filming another movie and the studio wants to get our faces out there. I pretend that the family I have waiting inside are the kind of people I would be proud to introduce Fox to. I pretend that when he looks at me, he sees half of the things I see when I look at him.

But when that moment is over, I push it all down. I’m never going to be with someone like Fox. Imagining anything else is just make believe, every bit as fake and fantastical as the movies this town is famous for.