To Love Jason Thorn (Page 36)

He wasn’t my sex god, but I was in his vicinity, and God had given me eyes for such occasions after all.

I glanced back at Jason and saw his troubled expression.

“Fuck me,” he muttered almost to himself.

I would happily fuck you if that’s your problem.

Reaching for his second glass of whiskey, he drank the last bit in one big gulp, pushed his chair back with a loud noise, and came to my side.

I had to crane my neck to look up at him.

He offered me his hand. “Come on. I can’t do this here with all these people around. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I asked, my eyes suspiciously jumping between his hand and eyes.

Clearly done with waiting for me to decide, he pulled back my chair while I was still sitting in it and took my hand himself.

Grabbing the small clutch I had borrowed from Char, I let him pull me away from our sad table and tried to ignore the warmth that was travelling all over my body from feeling his warm skin on mine again.

Even holding hands with him could count as accomplishing childhood dreams, right? And it had already happened more than once. I should’ve counted the night as a success. Only I had no idea what was coming next.

Talk about childhood dreams…

Chapter Sixteen

Olive

Instead of driving me home, he drove us back to Bel Air, to the heaven that was his home.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked as soon as we were inside.

“I’m good. Thank you.”

“I’ll get something for myself then.”

He poured himself…I didn’t even care what it was at that point. I just stood in the middle of his living room, hugging myself and generally feeling like crap.

“Maybe you should’ve dropped me at home, Jason,” I said when he kept his back turned to me. “I don’t think this night out was a good idea. If this is about you taking me to the set, or, hell, I don’t know, to tell me that you think my book is crap…or maybe it’s about the photos, that would make more sense, bu—”

“Stop, Olive. Just stop,” he interrupted me.

He finally left the bottle of alcohol alone and walked to my side. Cupping my cheeks, he looked into my eyes. “Your book was amazing. You’re amazing. Stop thinking badly about yourself. I have to…no, I need to tell you something, or ask you something. Hell…” He let my face go and turned his back to me, again. “I’m already making a mess of this. I just don’t know how to say it…where to start.”

“Well.” I dropped the clutch onto the comfy looking armchair. “I’m half convinced you’re trying to tell me you have to kill me, so it can’t be worse than that. Just tell me and get over it with already.”

He raked his hand through his already sexily messed up hair and let out a deep breath. “You’re right. Okay. You liked sitting outside last time, so let’s go out.” Grabbing my hand, he walked us outside.

“You have chaise lounges,” I said when we stepped outside. There were six of them and they looked gorgeous next to the pool. There were also more than a few giant cushions, the ones that you can curl up and comfortably sleep on. “You didn’t have them the last time I was here.”

“Yeah, I asked Alvin to find something comfortable to sit on for when I had guests who wanted to sit close to the pool instead of at the table.”

He had gotten them because of me?

I was unable to hold back my smile.

We arranged the cushions closer to the pool and sat down facing each other.

“I’ve danced around it enough, so here we go,” he started. I sat up straighter, ready for whatever he was about to throw my way.

“My publicist wants me to get married, Olive.”

Wait. What? I wasn’t ready for that!

“Come again?”

“I lost a few jobs after the alley video scandal; apparently they don’t think I’m serious enough about my work, and no major studio wants to deal with that. They didn’t want the negative press around me to affect their movie, so they ended my contracts. Tom thinks that’ll only be the start if things don’t change.”

Wait. What?

I was barely hearing a word of what he was saying. He was getting married?

Was I cursed? Because there was no way this was fair. I’d long ago given up on my childhood crush, but now after seeing him again, spending time with him again…now he was getting married to someone?

“Wait a second.” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. What does that have to do with you getting married?”

“It’s what they do in this industry, Olive. They paint you a life for the public. They shape you into something new, something that fits into their standards. It’s all an illusion. Sometimes even in your private life you have to keep acting. You get a new girlfriend; your publicists sit down and draw up a contract. Everything ends up in a contract. Everything is binding. Of course there are real couples, too, but it’s tough to find that with someone in this industry.”

“So why not get a girlfriend?”

A pretend girlfriend was still bad, but a wife?! I’d read enough romance novels to know that those marriages always had a shot at a real love, and what woman in her right mind wouldn’t fall in love with Jason after spending some time with him?

He shook his head. “No. They think the media will see right through that, and if the public and everyone else thinks I’m playing them, it’ll only bury my career deeper into the ground. Long story short, Megan thinks that if I get married and act the part for a few years, everyone’s opinion about me will change. In the meantime, I’ll be able to focus on my work instead of dealing with the ripple effects my actions cause in the media.”

My heart sinking further and further, I tried not to show what I was feeling—pure agony—on my face.

“Then congratulations are in order, I guess,” I said, properly taken back. “Wow. You’re getting married. You already announced it?”

He laughed, and it wasn’t a happy laugh. Far from it. “Yeah, no.”

Not looking at him, I leaned to my left and pushed my hand into the pool water. It was a chilly night, but I was hardly feeling anything.

“My publicist and Tom have been showing me headshots of some new actresses for quite some time now, but I couldn’t choose one.” He continued to break my heart. “Well, now they chose someone for me.”

Headshots? That was freaking hilarious. Choosing a wife by looking at headshots? Obviously, Hollywood wasn’t my thing. Where is the love, people?

I forced my lips to tilt up. “Who is the lucky lady?”

Instead of answering me, he said the strangest thing. “Do you remember the first day we met? The first day where I found you hiding next to the wall upstairs?”

My smile turned genuine. “Bits and pieces.” False. Of course I remembered that day.

“Then,” he said as he shifted in his seat. “Let me answer a question you asked me back then.” He paused, then said, “Yes.”

I stared at him, clueless. “What?”

Had I asked him if he liked pie or not? I didn’t remember asking anything.

“Yes to what?”

“You don’t remember,” he mumbled as he scrubbed his stubble. Taking a deep breath, he reminded me, “You asked me to marry you…so…would you like to marry me, Olive?”