The Journalist and Her Actor

Chapter 23

When you fall into a pool with a very hot movie star, surrounded by paparazzi, you start to question your life choices. 

Maybe I should have taken every penny I had ever saved and run away to Scotland, searching for the Loch Ness Monster with Carter when I had the chance. Spending our days by the loch, binoculars in hand, sharing theories about our soon to be best friend. 

Or maybe I should have rented a boat, tucked Carter away on it and sailed to the Bermuda Triangle, welcoming the mist and fog, wondering where we would end up. Perhaps stumbling upon Atlantis, an isolated paradise, where Carter would be free from the chaos I had dragged him into. 

Or maybe gone hunting for Bigfoot who would then become Carter's bodyguard, keeping him safe from all harm while we set up a cabin in the forest. 

All of those would have been better than staring at Luke at the bottom of the pool, both of us trying to decide how long we could hold our breath before we were forced to come out of the water and face the paparazzi. 

I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for dragging him into the pool, but there wasn't a big enough facial expression for... 

OH MY GOSH. I AM SO SORRY FOR DRAGGING YOU INTO THE POOL AND FORCING YOUR TO FACE THE MEDIA SHARKS. HOW LONG CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH BY THE WAY?

Luke managed to shake his head, shooting me a look of exasperation.

I shrugged helplessly.

He looked up at the surface with a look of trepidation, closed his eyes for a beat, and then broke for the water's edge, sending more flashes washing across the water. 

Luke was already out of the pool by the time I popped my head above the water. The paparazzi all but swarmed him, leaving me with a window to get out without much attention on the other side of the pool. Luke glanced back at me with an imperceptible nod, urging me to take it. 

I began to swim to the other edge, and paused as I took another look at Luke. He was smiling, doing his best to dry off with an abandoned towel by the pool side while people shouted questions at him. Several people demanded that he pose, going crazy over his soaked appearance. 

But I noticed new details under the smile. A slight shift to his posture as several people shouted for him to take off his shirt. The way he ducked his head when others whistled. I glanced back towards my exit and sighed. 

I couldn't leave him there. Not when he was a lone wet t shirt contest contestant because of me. He didn't deserved to be gawked at. 

So, hating that I was still wearing a very white— very wet dress, I climbed out of the pool next to Luke, and found myself suddenly pulling the attention away from my male co-star. 

Luke glanced over at me, surprised and a moment later, wrapped his towel around me, giving the cameras a lot less of me to capture. The gesture, Luke wrapping his arms around me with the towel however, earned a frantic level of flashes, capturing an entirely different scene.

My heart raced faster at the kindness in his gesture, and my eyes met Luke's, our gazes stumbling over each other for a moment, self conscious but connected in a moment of necessity. Then I turned back to the paparazzi, giving them my best smile as I shouted over their chatter.

"Well that was fun. You get one question before I go." I gestured to all of them. "Ten seconds to fight amongst yourselves before I walk away with this guy," I said, gesturing to Luke.

The paparazzi all blinked, surprised. Then they began to talk over each other, fighting to ask a question. I shrugged, smiling helplessly. "Sorry, can't hear all of you at once. Try again."