Page 82 of Beyond the Bright Lights

“Don’t you dare touch yourself after I leave. I will know, even if it means sniffing your fingers.”

I lean up on my elbows and raise a brow, challenging him.

“Guess I’ll have to wash my hands, over and over and over . . .”

The muscles in his jaw ripple as he goes through a silent battle, possibly considering staying to follow through with his threat. Then, when the PA knocks for a third time, he gives up and leaves.

I lay back, finally breathing.

I’m screwed. Here I am surrendering to every demand from that frustrating man.

Maybe Mylan is my vice. One that I won’t be giving up anytime soon.

Chapter 20 - Mylan

Telling Lana about Olivia, and how she broke me, was a relief—a weight lifted from my shoulders. Still, I worry that Jensen will find her and tell her all the dirty details of my addiction. About the nights I’d lose myself to the high and wake up in my own puke and piss, naked and pathetic.

I worry, but should I? Lana has a mind of her own—a strong fucking mind. She takes no shit from anyone, especially me. She wouldn’t let Jensen sway her from . . .

From what exactly?

She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk about what’s going to happen after I'm done filming. She must know I’m planning to ask her to come with me, back to L.A. to be with me. It's still early, so I can’t push her. I can’t scare her away.

Convincing her to take a chance on me is going to be the hardest part. Her life is here. Her past that never seems to stop haunting her is here. Leaving Arkansas would be . . . why would she leave? Why would she pick up her life for me?

Maybe if she loves me, but it’s only been two weeks.

Do I even love her?

I know I can’t stop thinking about her. That I want her around me all the time. That the thought of leaving her is . . . terrifying.

I never felt this way for Olivia, or Michelle, or any of my other failed relationships.

If that’s not love, what is it?

You’re an addict. You’re addicted to her.

This is one addiction I will gladly lose myself to.

Lana’s biggest hurdle when it comes to loving me is my age. She probably thinks I haven’t begun living my life. That I have a future of endless possibilities. She probably assumes I would never leave my life in L.A., leave acting, for her.

Except, I would. I have enough money to last me a lifetime. I don’t need to act. It was something I was forced into. Yes, I came to love it, but when you reach the brink of losing everything, you start to see things more clearly. I’m starting to see what’s important in my life. Acting may not be it. Besides, I’ve lived more lifetimes in my twenty-five years than I deserved. I’ve traveled the world, met the president of the freaking United States, experienced once-in-a-lifetime spectacular moments like seeing penguins in the wild, building homes in third world countries, and learning how to make sushi from the world’s greatest sushi chef in Japan.

I’ve experienced death, heartbreak, desperation, and failure. Now I'm ready for love and if that means staying here in Arkansas with her . . .

“You’re pathetic,” Michelle scoffs from the makeup chair beside me.

She waits for my reaction, but I ignore her, which pisses her off.

“I know you’re thinking about that fat bitch. You’re smiling like an idiot.”

“Your jealousy is suffocating.”

“I’m not jealous. I feel sorry for you.”

“Like I give a shit.”

“Haven’t you read the articles? People are grossed out by your relationship with her.”

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