The Journalist and Her Actor

Chapter 25

There is nothing quite like a threat to wake you up. The best alarm clock. A jolt to the system that's stronger than any cup of caffeine. A bolt of lightning that stutters you into an overdrive of panic. If you could bottle it, you would have a one hundred percent success rate of getting everywhere on time.

But it's not like you want to wake up every day to threats just to be mentally present in the early hours of the morning. That would be overkill and heart attack inducing.

I went through the motions, putting on the outfit Allie handed me, looking over my lines as the next scene was set up around me, and falling into the character as the camera began recording, all while trying not to stare at everyone around me as a potential enemy. 

The letter left under Luke's door filled my mind, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. 

I know the lies you spin... You better come clean... 

I kept shoving my panicked thoughts behind a closed door in the back of my mind, refusing to let anyone know how utterly terrified I was.

Who knows? Who sent the message?

I was so distracted that I completely missed Lavender sitting down next to me at the makeup tent in between scenes until she poked me in the arm. "Um... hello?" 

Blinking, my mind slammed back into my body. "Sorry!" I said, pulling my focus back to the present. 

She shook her head, laughing. "You're sorry! I completely locked you out of the room!" She ran her fingers through her long, glossy brown hair, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry about that. Not used to sharing a space and was on auto pilot last night when the cameras showed up at the hotel." 

Lavender shot me a pointed look. "You were all over the gossip pages this morning after that trip into the pool." A mischievous smile spread across her ruby red lips. "You know, the one where you accidentally pulled Luke in with you." She looked utterly delighted that Luke had also been caught in the chaos, like any fake ex-girlfriend would be. "Sorry for you, happy for... well me."

Nothing like a little embarrassment for an ex to make a girl happy.

"Congratulations, you've had your right of passage for your first shoot. Something embarrassing that ended up in the gossip pages." She gave me a soft smile. "It won't last long. They'll find something new to obsess about soon. "One article even suggested that Luke found your dead body in the ocean..." she laughed. "And then buried you in the sand somewhere. They will print anything to sell a story."

"Did they write anything else?" I asked, peeking at her from under my lashes, preparing for her to start screaming at me for spending the night in Luke's room. 

She shook her head. "I stopped reading after the 'you died in the ocean by Luke's hands' theory. Where'd you end up spending the night?"

I opened my mouth to respond but paused, suddenly flustered. How would she react to me staying in Luke's room?

There's only one way to find out.

"Luke Walker's room," I said to the makeup counter, keeping my voice quiet.

But my volume ended up not mattering. Tate— who I hadn't seen lurking nearby— plopped up on the makeup table, scattering makeup in every direction as he settled, earning several squeaks and glares of protest, mouth full of breakfast burrito. "YOU SLEPT IN LUKE'S ROOM!" he said in his loud Tate voice, words booming across the makeup tent. 

The room fell silent, everyone turning to stare at me, wide eyed. And then... 

Chaos ensued. 

One minute the makeup tent was a peaceful place to transform from person to person, and the next it was full of gasps, women— and Tate, swarming around me like clucking hens.