“I guess,” I said, completely turned off by his pompous attitude.
There was a nearly imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, then he looked down. “I thought you’d understand, being shiny and all. But you’re just like the rest of them. You’re tied up in all of it — all of the solid things you see. There’s more moving under the surface, you know.”
I was beginning to plan my escape back to the trailers; back to normalcy. I wanted out of this frozen moment with this crazy, arrogant stranger.
He tilted his head to the side with a slight smile. “You know about it. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”
I smiled weakly, beginning to conjure up an excuse.
“No need. I’ll see you down there soon anyway,” he said. “Just wanted some time to connect with nature, you get me?”
“I guess,” I shrugged.
He chuckled. “You get me… but you don’t want to get me. And there, Charlie, is your problem.”
My gut shifted uncomfortably as the truth rang in his words. I wanted to believe him; I wanted to be able to sync with his unique brand of craziness. It was the same kind of comforting craziness that I felt with Hazel.
Everything that she was — everything that Crimson was, the way they talked, it promised that there was more to this world. That there was a layer underneath, working in the background of everything. Fate, destiny, some pattern that was constantly shifting like a kaleidoscope.
It was true — some part of me knew it was there. I just wouldn’t let myself — a boring, normal guy from Ohio — believe it.
His purple eyes were boring into me, promising to show me the door of this world.
Then I saw him living alone in a shack somewhere in a barren wilderness for a year. If the door led there, I had no interest in going.
“I’ll see you at the set,” I said as I turned to leave.
“Charlie, wait,” he said in a husky voice, grabbing my hand.
When he touched me, it was like an explosion went off in my soul. I was touching someone who already knew me somehow… who’d known me for a longer period of time than the length of my life.
He spun me around and pressed his lips onto mine.
Everything in me felt like it was enveloped in light, like every single particle that made me up as a person was being understood all at once. As he kissed me gently, warmth flooded my senses from my lips to my fingertips.
His kiss made me feel… it made me feel like I was more and less and greater and insignificant and as powerful as a god and as helpless as a baby all at once.
I was complete.
Then he pulled away and blinked rapidly, his red eyelashes fluttering over his purple eyes.
“See?” he whispered, smiling knowingly.
I swallowed, needing time alone to piece that together. I needed to make sense of it; to convert it into something I understood.
“See what?” I asked, my eyes flickering back and forth between his.
His expression didn’t falter. “You aren’t ready. You didn’t do it yet.”
On some level, I knew he meant to forgive myself, but I couldn’t let myself think that. It was just too weird — too creepy. Instead, I changed the subject.
“You’re gay?” I asked, wiping his saliva off my mouth.
“I don’t do labels. I like what I like,” he shrugged.
“I bet your publicist loves that,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“They manage,” he said with a wink. “Now run along now and tell Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup that I’ll be down shortly.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I walked back down to the set on the beach with the sense that a hurricane was coming, and that hurricane’s name was Crimson Sin.
Reese was pacing back and forth near his trailer, talking on his phone in an agitated way as his silver tie flapped in the wind.
Inside my head, I was screaming. How was it possible that someone like Crim could… could be like that? I made a beeline for my trailer so I could hide.
Throughout the next few hours, I kept looking out the window to check for a swath of ruby red hair lurking around.
There was no sign of him — for now.
He made me feel certain things I wasn’t prepared to feel. I clung to everything I knew— the solid, surefire things that were around me. It was all I could do when everything was so uncertain.
As the day gave way to night, there was a knock on my door.
I stopped my mindless scrolling through Instagram and froze. Could it be him?
As I walked to the door, I pictured Crim standing there, forcing me to take part in his weirdness. But it could have easily been Mason, searching for secrets. Or Oliver, coming to make me feel inadequate again. It might’ve been Reese, stopping by my trailer to give me bad news about the phone call he was having earlier. Even Leo might choose to show up, though I knew he was completely emotionally shut off from me at this point.
I hoped it was Leo.
To my dismay, when I opened the door, pretty boy Oliver was standing there.
“Oh, it’s you,” I said, my face falling.
“That’s no way to greet your costume designer,” he said with a scowl.
“Do you need something?” I asked impatiently, desperate to cling to my alone time.
“I’m working on costumes for Morocco. Since your character is new and you’re going to shoot most of your scenes there, I need you to come to my room for sizing.”
I scrunched up my face.
“Oh get over yourself,” he snapped. “This is part of the job.”
A half-hour later, I was following Oliver into his room at the Inn. He must have done some intense cleaning since last time I was here, because the room was immaculate. A rack filled with glittering costumes made of various fabrics hung near one side of the room, storage containers packed with rainbow-colored thread were
