I pictured him in my memory again, and the more I went over the details I’d captured, the less I liked him. His nails were perfectly manicured, he’d obviously used a moisturizer on his face every night to get that perfect, blemish-free skin. His clothing was tailored, perfectly fitted for his amazing body…
Shaking the desire away, I reasoned with myself that of course his clothes were tailored; he was a costume designer. His clothes would be immaculate in the same way my grooming was always immaculate.
Then I thought back to how he pronounced those words; his insult. “Flyover state.” And then how his eyes lit up with that smile like he expected us to agree with him. How crestfallen he’d been when it was clear that both me and Alina were offended.
I felt gratitude; happy to have Alina on my side. At least I had one friend in all this mess.
As I ascended the last steps and emerged at the base of the castle, it only took me one quick glance around at the people wandering around before I saw her.
Her white hair shone like a beacon. Her hands were full of something she was eating.
Relief flooded through me. Thank goodness she was there on the set; I wanted her to be able to stick it to Mason.
Quickly, I scanned the scene trying to find him. It only took a few seconds.
He was by the table full of breakfast food, leaning against it while sipping on a cup of coffee. Today, he was dressed in some drab-looking leather armor.
I smiled a little as I thought of how it probably caused Oliver a little distress to make an outfit so un-fabulous.
Though I reminded myself that I didn’t really know Oliver at all, and therefore I couldn’t accurately predict what he was thinking. Still, I held onto the small shred of a petty thought that he might be forced to make something he wasn’t excited about.
Despite the drab leather armor he was wearing, Mason looked stunning. It wasn’t necessarily his looks that were doing it, although they certainly played a part. He was a drop-dead gorgeous man, undeniably. The thing — the real thing that held the eye and kept it there, was that intangible star quality that radiated out from him like an aura. It was like a magnet, and it made you watch him.
As I approached the breakfast spread, I wondered if he could turn it on and off at will.
Mason was standing next to the coffee machine as if he was assigned to guard it.
I was surprised there was no one else around him. Then again, it was pretty early. Most of the cast and crew were still asleep in their trailers.
Though I tried to be subtle about it as I plucked a styrofoam cup from the stack, I couldn’t deny the creeping sensation that crawled over my skin. He was watching me.
I was nervous.
Trying to contain the blush that was quickly rising into my cheeks, I pulled the tap down and kept my eyes trained on the dark liquid that pattered into my cup.
I could feel those icy eyes boring into me, waiting for me to give in first.
I wouldn’t do it. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d have to be the first one to say something.
Mentally, I was scrambling with plans in my head as the black liquid filled up the cup. The tone of the pouring raised in pitch as it got closer to the top. Time was running out, but the prickling on my skin was turning up a few notches.
Just as I turned to join Alina, he spoke.
“How are you sleeping?” he asked, his voice drenching me in honey.
I stopped in my tracks. Something about the way he asked that prickled on my senses of that weird other-ness that I associated with Hazel.
Sure enough, I turned to find those blue eyes piercing me.
“Fine,” I said, walking back over to him.
It felt like this was where my feet wanted to go all along; like I was finally giving in to the gravitational pull that Mason had.
His lips curled into a smile. He must have known.
Though my insides were squirming with nervousness and twisting around with feeling starstruck, I told myself that I’d have a quick chat with him. Just to power through it. Just to have the experience.
I mean, how many more times in my life was I going to get to talk to my celeb crush on a beautiful Italian cliff?
“You went to bed late last night,” Mason said, looking off to the ocean.
“You’re observant,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. It burned my tongue, but I pretended it didn’t as the pain was razed through my mouth.
“I notice things,” Mason said simply.
Like a Rolodex, my mind was combing through all the reasons Mason might be asking me this. He could have been watching Alina’s trailer door. He could have some type of weird crush on Alina and was watching to see if any other guys went into her trailer. Or…
Or he could have been watching me because he had a crush on me.
The thought was so absurd that I swept it out of my mind immediately.
“What have you noticed?” I asked, tightening my grip on my cup.
He turned his body so that he was facing me, then fixed me with a fierce, burning blue stare. “Secret for secret?” he asked with that million-dollar smile.
I couldn’t say no. It was like I was under some kind of spell. So I nodded.
“You first,” he said, quirking one of his thick dark eyebrows up.
“It doesn’t work like that,” I said, internally screaming.
“Oh?” he asked with a playful smile, “how does it work then? Please tell me, as you’re clearly calling the shots here…” he said sarcastically.
My face fell.
“Well, first of all, let's get one thing straight,” I said, holding my ground. My knees
