Where You Are

Daniel’s roommate confers with him about a beer run while I think about Emma, wishing she was here with me instead of Brooke. That line of thinking leaves me feeling guilty. Brooke is taking time from her life to be supportive to me, and I should be more appreciative. I watch the mouth of the hallway where she disappeared. She’s had a couple of beers, but she seems fine.

When she reappears, several girls stop her, and within seconds she’s wearing her genial talking-to-fans face.

“Never?” Daniel is staring again, not that I blame him. Brooke is a beautiful girl. Her eyes find me then, and she smiles an apology before turning back to her fans. “Are you sure about that?” he adds. Brooke hasn’t left my side for long all evening, which I attribute to the fact that she knows no one else here.

I don’t answer, because Daniel’s not really listening. He’s wearing the same bewitched expression I’ve seen on guys a hundred times. Some she’ll play with, some she won’t, but none of them have ever mattered to her for long.

I try, unsuccessfully, to suppress a smirk as Daniel separates from me and meanders closer. He’s a good guy, but not for her. Brooke needs someone larger than life. Larger than her life, certainly. She needs a guy who can see through that spellbinding façade of hers, see her for what she is, and accept it.

Chapter 26

Brooke

Graham has kept tabs on me all night, but whenever some guy hits on me and I send him a telepathic oh brother look, he seems amused. Amusement is not my preferred reaction—not since watching him nearly lose his shit while observing the photo shoot with Reid and Emma. That’s the reaction I want.

When his friend Daniel joins the girls who recognized me from Life’s a Beach, I welcome the interruption. I’ve spent ten minutes listening to the three of them discuss my alter ego, Kristen Wells, like she’s a real person, going so far as to apologize to me when one of them refers to her as a bitch. People always think Kristen was a bitch—because she was scheming, manipulative, and willing to do whatever it took to get the guy or the job she wanted. So yeah, a bit like me.

I’d love to say, “You do realize she’s a fictional character, right? I’m not actually her.” But no. My career is comprised of striving to bring fictional characters to life, so I shrug and laugh it off.

“Hi. I’m Graham’s friend, Daniel.” Charming and confident, he sticks his hand out. “And you must be Graham’s friend, Brooke.”

I give him my hand with a smile. “I am.”

His hazel eyes are glued to mine, which tells me he’s already taken the time to examine me head to toe before coming over. His strawberry blond hair is perfectly style bed-head, and when he leans closer I catch the masculine scent of his cologne.

“Well, Brooke, you look like you could use another beer.”

My five-second assessment: this boy has spent four years tearing through girls like finish line ribbons.

“Daniel, rude. We’re talking to her!” One of the girls punches him in the arm, lightly. She gazes up at him, far more earnestly than she should. She would give anything for him to look at her like he’s looking at me.

Aww, honey. It’s not going to happen. Guys don’t suddenly wake up one day and get interested in girls they’ve never noticed before. Unless you’re watching a sitcom or a movie of the week.

“Yeah, Daniel, do you even know who this is?” one of the others huffs. “This is Brooke Cameron. She was Kristen on Life’s a Beach. You probably don’t even know what that is.”

“Sure I do. She made me jealous of every drowning victim on that show.”

Game point to Daniel. Almost.

“Including the ones Xavier gave mouth-to-mouth to?” I ask, arching a brow. (Xavier: my gorgeous costar, who, sadly, proved to me that the large hands correlation doesn’t necessarily hold true.)

Daniel mirrors my smartass grin. “No. As hot as Xavier was, his mouth-to-mouth technique was lacking in some crucial way I can’t quite put my finger on.” His eyes flick to my mouth and back. “Let’s get you that beer.” Taking my hand, he heads for the kitchen. I glance across the room where Graham stands surrounded by a fresh group of friends. He’s watching. I roll my eyes, and he smiles and rolls his in response. Not a hint of jealousy crosses his face.

Dammit.

***

When the taxi drops Graham and me at his front door, it’s almost 3:00 a.m. Inside, Cara’s cat is the only one awake, and it begins meowing like a small siren the minute we get the door open. “Noodles, shhh!” Graham says, which it ignores. To shut it up and stop it from winding around his legs, Graham gives it a snack before we tiptoe up the stairs.

I pull him into the guest room with me. “I’m totally wired. Come sit and talk.”

He kicks off his shoes and collapses on the bed, leaning back on the pillows. I slip out of my heels, remove my earrings and slide the bracelets off of my arms.

“So. Daniel?” he asks.

“Total player.” Lifting and dropping one shoulder, I dismiss any thought of Daniel.

Graham chuckles. “Yeah. But I thought you liked that, sometimes.”

I turn towards at him. “I’m growing out of that phase.” When I start unbuttoning my blouse, he cuts his eyes away.

“I should go to bed, I guess.” He starts off the bed.

This is not a problem I would have had with Daniel.

“No, stay. I’m just taking this uncomfortable stuff off. I trust you.”

“Um. Okay.” He shuts his eyes, leans his head back again and folds his hands over his perfectly flat abdomen.