Page 96 of Overexposed

Pressing my lips to her ear, I whispered, “Seven and you are going to get all the credit. I’m more than okay with that, Stella. I might make him look good, but I don’t want that attention. I never have. But those girls were foolish and who I am or want to be isn’t their fault.”

“I know,” she said, then smoothed her hands down my shirt. “You’re amazing.”

“Right back atcha, Slick.”

It took another two hours before we were able to give our statements. At least I could feed Stella from the packed picnic we had. That said, when we were free to go, I was more than happy to get her back in the car and away from all of this.

“You might have a hard time topping this date,” she warned me with a sly grin. “Unless I can convince you to do the lifeguard routine and save me when I get a cramp.”

I snort laughed. “So you have fantasies about men in red board shorts?”

“And out of them,” she hummed. “I’m not fussy.”

My dick stiffened obediently. “It’s a good thing we have a pool.”

“Oh,” she said with a little smile. “Feel like rehearsing until we get it just right? Might take a while.”

The rest of our lives if I played my cards right.

chapter

thirty-five

Stella

As proud as I was of Gem, I couldn’t stop thinking about the accident. Reckless driving on the part of the paps trying to get a picture of us aside, the fangirls had taken needless risks to flash their tits at Gem. Yes, I understood that they thought he was Seven and apparently his fans were just that obsessed, but it was a phenomenally stupid idea on their part. They’d nearly died, for fuck’s sake.

One of the two paps who’d been there was under arrest. He’d gotten mouthy with the cops and since they’d had enough to book him, that’s what they had done. Good. Maybe he’d develop a brain cell while he was in jail. Honestly, who was going to buy some boring shot of us in a nothing-special Civic on the way to a date? It was an idiotic idea put into action by some idiotic people. My gut told me Dillon was probably involved and that just made it even worse.

Curled up in a chair in the library, I scrolled through social media on my phone. I’d checked in with Dad but he had a doctor’s appointment today. Mom was back from her break and they both seemed a lot happier for having had the time apart.

Dad had also seen the news reports about the accident and the images of me and “Seven.” I’d messaged him from the crashsite once I spotted the press helicopter. So then, I’d gotten a running commentary from him in text messages about the angles from the story.

The next-to-last message from him had left a mark:Just promise me that you know what you’re doing, Shutterbug.

Did I know what I was doing?

What started out as a one-night stand—a verygoodone-night stand and some lucky shots—had morphed into so much more. I didn’t want to go over the mental list of how muchmorebecause it would just leave me fighting anxiety all over again. I wasn’t used to this level of emotional attachment.

By some small mercy, when Ihadslipped into a panic attack after the whole crash mess, it’d hit me when I was alone and I was able to get through it privately.

If it’d been an hour earlier, I’d have been wrapped around Ollie—who’d beenlividwhen he got back and found out everything that had happened. If it had been a couple of hours later, Seven would have had a front row seat to my meltdown. He’d silently plucked me out of my bed and carried me to his, but I’d been too exhausted to ask what the hell he was doing.

Drained, shaking, and defeated, every muscle in my body ached. I mentally made an executive decision to discuss it with him later since taking me to sleep in his room was wildly out of character for us.

He was gone when I woke up, the only evidence that I hadn’t imagined it all being that I was still tangled up in his charcoal sheets with the distinctive smell of him clinging to my skin—almost like he’d bear-hugged me all night long.

Weirdly, they were all gone today. Gem had more stunt work to do.

“I thought this film was finished,” I said when he told me before leaving the house. Seven had finished his scenes weeks ago, and I’d thought he said filming was complete.

“Pick-up shots, Slick,” Gem said with an indulgent smile. “Seven’s finished all of his principal photography, but with me there, they wanted to polish some of the set pieces. We have maybe another week and we should have everything.”

“Be careful.” I’d worried about the work before. After the accident, I couldn’t escape thoughts of just how risky his job was.

“Don’t worry, Slick,” he murmured before he kissed me. “I have the best reason in the world to come home.”

There was a preview screening for the press for Ollie’s new movie today—two of them, actually, a private one on the studio lot and another larger one tonight with the red-carpet treatment. Ollie had been poking Seven and Gem to make sure I got to go or he’d threatened that he’d take me ashisdate.

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