Page 9 of A Little Bit Extra

Why do I want that? I shouldn’t crave more from Emmett, I hardly know him. Yet, for some reason, I’m drawn to him. More than I should, and part of me thinks he feels the same.

“Emmett.” A voice echoes from the kitchen.

“My radio.” Emmett looks toward the kitchen and sighs before standing up from the couch to make his way over to where the voice originated.

“Go for Emmett.”

“Can you send Cassie to Carla’s office? I’m assuming you’re done showing her your trailer.” Marcy’s voice echoes from the speaker. She doesn’t ask why it was taking so long to show me the 300 square foot trailer.

If she asked, what would I even say? Oh, yeah, sorry, I’m too busy trying to convince myself to not stare too long at this gorgeous man in front of me.

“On it,” Emmett responds and sets the radio back on the counter.

He walks over to me and extends his hand toward me. I grab it, and that’s when I realize that I am definitely attracted to this man.

He pulls me up too fast and I stumble forward into his chest. I’d like to say I’m surprised that he catches me, but I’m not.

“Um, s-sorry,” I say and move to take a step back, but I forget the couch is right behind me.

I teeter backwards and Emmett’s hands instinctively reach for my waist, pulling me back into his embrace.

“Falling for me already?” Emmett asks.

My gaze meets his, his arms still wrapped around me. Neither of us move. One step from either of us would bring our chests together. I picture myself tipping my jaw up, Emmett doing the opposite, and leaning down to press his lips against mine. My cheeks fill red from the thought. I bite my lip, which isn’t smart because Emmett’s eyes track my every movement.

“I should go,” I force myself to say out loud.

He nods and releases his hold on me. Similar to last night, I immediately want to be wrapped up in him again.

I head back into the studio to find Marcy and find my thoughts replaying the last hour with Emmett. I don’t understand how he’s left such an impact to invade my every thought. I’ve known him for less than 24 hours, yet I find myself wanting to spend more time with him. He wasn’t wrong. I want to see him more.

I’ve already faltered in my goal of avoiding any complications. If I looked up “Complications for Cassie” in a dictionary, Emmett would be number one, bold and underlined. I need to stay focused on my plan.

Time to put up a barrier against Emmett and keep things professional.

3

Emmett

Cassie just left my trailer and I’ve already received a strongly worded text from Marcy reminding me she is off limits. I text back to remind her that nothing in my contract states I can’t be friends with staff. She doesn’t need to know that I want to spend more time with Cassie.

I’m not looking for anything serious, though, which is exactly what I told Marcy when she asked me last night at the diner after she caught me staring at Cassie one too many times. I couldn’t help myself. I was in a trance with the way her brown waves fell right below her shoulder, bouncing and swaying with every step she took.

Honestly, after last night when she rejected me, I didn’t know if I was going to see her again unless it was at the diner. My friends like to go there occasionally, but I don’t get out much other than that.

During filming, I try to stay home as much as possible. I only have a few key people I hang out with. Everyone else I’ve tried to develop relationships with just ended up using me in the end and got frustrated when I wouldn’t take selfies for their Instagram page.

I like Cassie though. As friends, maybe. She’s easy to talk to, and I enjoy saying things that cause her cheeks to turn the prettiest shade of red. It would be easier to ignore her, or at least calm my flirting, but I can’t help it. When I’m near her, my heart strings tug to be closer, to touch her.

It’ll pass. This feeling of infatuation and attraction is nothing more than a fleeting feeling because she’s new and not someone I’ve known for a while. Our relationship stands free from the pollution of my deep-seated trust issues from childhood.

There’s a knock on my trailer door before it swings open. I’m grateful to have a distraction from my thoughts.

Tyler walks up the stairs, waves, and takes a seat on the couch. He reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. I grab my drink from the counter in the kitchen and join him.

“Did you have someone in here?” Tyler asks.

“Why?” I ask, turning my head to face him.

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