Page 15 of Beyond the Bright Lights

An hour passes I’m still here, in the same spot, frozen, numb, lost.

Did Mylan leave? I never gave him my phone number to set up a time to help him with the role.

Ugh.

Why did I agree to this?

Because if I didn’t, he’d mess it up and Tyler’s legacy would be trashed. It was up to me to prepare him, to make sure he gets it right.

I pull my phone out of my back jean pocket and bring up Google. I search Mylan’s name and tons of articles come up. I click on the first one.

Mylan Andrews’ Last Hope

Written by: Angela Borrows, Entertainment Now

A-list actor Mylan Andrews is fresh out of rehab and in the backwoods of Arkansas to film his new movie, Tyler’s Team. Twenty-five-year-old Andrews was cast in the lead role of Tyler Taylor after Rey Michaelson dropped out due to a family emergency that he has yet to disclose the details about. Michaelson said he will be taking a break from acting for the foreseeable future.

Andrews has a huge task ahead of him. Sources tell Entertainment Now that his manager, Tony Wadeson called in favors to get Andrews the job. After three stints in rehab, the Oscar-nominated actor’s career has tanked. Casting directors refuse to hire him and jobs he’s secured are dropping him like flies following several public incidents of drunken behavior. Sources also tell us that during Andrews’s last role, he kept flubbing lines, showed up late to set, or didn’t show up at all.

This role could be a great comeback for Andrews’s career. Tyler’s Team is already getting Oscar buzz. The movie, directed by Oscar-nominated Jensen Boliver, is an adaptation of the book of the same name. Written by Rebecca Taylor, Tyler Taylor’s sister, it tells the inspiring story of the college football star who died of cancer his senior year. Taylor spent his final days advocating for cancer research, as well as creating the nonprofit organization, Tyler’s Team, with his fiancée Lana Young, who will be portrayed by model turned actress, Michelle Miller.

In the weeks following Taylor’s death, the video he recorded asking for donations went viral on YouTube, raising millions of dollars for his organization.

I stop reading. There’s more about me, about the movie, about Mylan. My heart can’t take it anymore.

Déjà vu.

When the book was released, it only took a few months for it to become a best-seller—all because some celebrity with a book club chose it as the month’s read. The story was heart-breaking, inspiring. It resonated with millions.

Then people found me—the real Lana Young. The fans who were obsessed with our love story found my address and camped outside my home. Same with the media, hoping to get an exclusive interview with me. It was so bad; I had to call the police. I also changed my phone number far too many times. It didn’t matter because they always tracked me down. I still receive phone calls or emails asking to be interviewed. All of which I send to voicemail and delete without listening. Same with the emails. I never open them.

It’s why I don’t have an online presence to this day. No Facebook, no Twitter, no TikTok, no Instagram. I want none of it. Especially now since it's about to happen all over again with this movie.

With Mylan.

Fuck, I’m an idiot. The moment someone snaps a picture of the two of us together, it’ll be sold to the highest bidder and plastered all over the internet. The paparazzi will stalk us, capturing our every move, analyzing our every breathing moment.

They'll show up at my bar.

I've only owned this bar for ten years. My throat aches with threatening tears at the thought of having to leave it. The first time around, the attention became too much, so I moved out of the home my parents owned then left to me when they died. I almost changed my name. What will happen this time? Will I have to sell Lilies and move again?

No.

Because this time I’m not some scared twenty-something year old. This time I will stand my ground. It’ll be tough as hell, but I've faced far worse for this to scare me.

For Mylan to scare me.

Boy, does he. This young man who makes my body do things it hasn’t done in years. Never has a man turned me on as quickly as Mylan does. His soft touches and vicious kisses. His cocky smirk that I want to slap off his face, then apologize with my mouth.

His dick.

Good Lord, his dick must be huge. I felt it when he pressed against me. My nipples rise remembering, my skin heats with desire, aching for this stranger. I need to wash away his smell, his touch. I need to release the built-up pleasure before I explode.

Grabbing my vibrator from the nightstand drawer next to my bed, I head to the bathroom. I start my John Mayer playlist on Spotify and fill the tub with water, pouring in vanilla and berry bubble bath.

Once halfway full, I sink in, groaning at the scalding hot water. Then I turn on my vibrator and imagine Mylan’s lips, his fingers, his cock.

I come within seconds.

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