Page 39 of Shine For Me

His hands go tight on the steering wheel. “Seriously?”

“Yup. And it looks like they’ll be extensive.” Production would never send sides—the portions of the script we’re scheduled to shoot tomorrow—through email. Too much risk they’ll get leaked that way. Instead they courier over printed out sheets the night before filming. Sometimes we don’t get them until we arrive at set, which always feels stressful to me. I like to have time to really learn my lines and get a feel for the scene.

But even with the added time, Fox seems distinctly unhappy with this news. His hands remain tight on the steering wheel, and he keeps looking at the clock and then swearing. “You okay?” I finally ask.

“What?” he glances over at me and I can see stress written in every line of his face. He takes a deep breath, seeming to attempt to calm down. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? Cause you seem pretty…not fine.”

“Really, it’s nothing. Just realizing my parents are out at this benefit tonight and…” he trails off. “I had wanted to talk to my mom, that’s all.”

He’s lying,I think to myself, the realization stinging way more than it should. I don’t like the idea of Fox lying to me. Not even about something unimportant. And with how tense he still seems, it doesn’t seem like this is unimportant. Not at all.

But asking him about it feels like nagging, and I don’t want to ruin what was pretty much a perfect day by pissing him off. So I bite my tongue and watch the streets of Wilmington get more congested as we approach our hotel.

“I’ll go around to the back and drop you off before I park,” Fox mutters as he pulls up to a red-light half a block from the hotel. From here we can see the swarm outside the front door. Somehow there are even more photographers today than there were last night. My stomach sinks at the realization that something else could have happened. I’ve had my phone off all day, and I didn’t even glance at my texts or missed calls.

“No,” I tell Fox suddenly. “Go to the valet.”

“You want me to go right into the middle of all that?” he asks skeptically.

“If you drop me off and then go park, you’ll end up getting mobbed in the parking lot,” I tell him. “Let’s just go to the valet and walk inside together.”

“I’ll call for security.”

“That’s dumb. We’ll end up circling around while we wait for who knows how long. I just want to get inside.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you think it’s a good idea for us to have our picture taken together right now?”

My body goes cold as his words rush over me. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Of course you don’t want to be dragged into this—”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant,” he says sternly, reaching out to place a calming hand over my fidgeting fingers. “I don’t give a shit if people see me with you. Let them take pictures. You’re my best friend and asshole Adam isn’t going to stop me from being seen with you. I was just thinking about you. I’m sure your team has some media strategy in place and—”

“I’m your best friend?” Everything else he said may as well have been gibberish.You’re my best friend.The words keep repeating over and over in my head, a warm syrupy feeling rising higher in my chest with every repetition.

“Of course you are.” He sounds almost surprised that I’m asking. “Is that news to you?”

“Um, yeah?” my laugh sounds a little hysterical. “I mean, you’re so social and everyone loves you and—”

“June.” The hand he placed on mine shifts, his fingers entwining with mine now. He squeezes gently. “You’re my best friend.”

“You’re my only friend,” I blurt out.

He scoffs. “You have a ton of friends.”

I have people that want to get into parties and clubs with me. I have people who want to get their picture taken. But I don’t have friends. Not really.

“You’re my only real friend,” I whisper. The light turns green and Fox starts to inch the car forward toward the hotel. We need to make a decision now.

Fox is probably right. Jimmy’s PR people definitely have a strategy in place, and it does not include prancing around in front of cameras with Fox Ransome. Usually they’re happy to have me photographed with my co-star, even when the tabloids speculate that there might be more than friendship between us. “Gossip is fine,” my grandfather always says. “But there’s a difference between gossip and proof.” And having my picture taken with Fox right after Adam was alleged to be cheating would not look good.

But I really don’t give a shit. I’m so tired of living my life to protect this stupid lie. I hung out with my friend today and now we’re going back to the hotel. I shouldn’t have to hide that just because Adam fucked up and is looking bad in the press. Again.

“Valet,” I say decisively. “Let them take their pictures.”

Fox’s fingers squeeze mine one last time before he pulls up in front of the hotel and the cameras start to go off.