Page 47 of Keep It

Not that what we had constitutedseeingeach other. Although, we definitelysawa lot of each other.

It was one night. It’s no big deal, he’s allowed to date whoever we wants.

Not that he’s necessarily dating whoever he’s invited to his trailer.

The set today is a courtroom, a local one in the fifteenth arrondissement. Danny immediately heads to Gwendoline, listening to her as she starts to block out the scene.

Spotting Lauren, I sidle up next to her.

“Hey,” she says, not looking up from her iPad.

“Hey, do you know anything about a visitor for Danny today?”

She doesn’t glance up. “Nope. Probably a French supermodel or something to pass the time, you know how he is.”

Lauren walks away after that lovely bombshell. A French supermodel. My chest burns and I have to physically unclench my jaw before I break a tooth.

The scene is a long one so I settle in the corridor outside the set, propped up against the wall with my arms crossed across my chest and Danny’s switched off phone clutched in my fist. The scene rolls on and he’s on fire. It’s a tense scene, one where Danny’s character has to defend himself with a quiet anger, keeping himself leashed. For once, Gwendoline has no notes for him, only the supporting actors or the camera angles.

Pride swells in my chest but I stomp it down. He’s probably only doing well so he can get through the scene and burn off some energy in his trailer.

When they call wrap on the scene, I don’t walk over to Danny and collect him like I usually do. I wait for him to come to me, the phone in my hand calling to him like a carrot on a stick. When he reaches me, I turn and walk away, his phone still in my hand.

Am I being petty? Yes. Do I care? No.

We get to the car and I open it for him. I feel his presence at my side as he holds his hand out expectantly. I drop his phone in his waiting palm.

“I’ll stick around here. Jess has your lunchorders.” I make sure to emphasize the plural. “I’ll be back to pick you up for makeup in an hour and a half.” I close the door behind him before biting through the open window. “Hope that’s enough time for you.”

I can’t help the glare I level him with as he looks up and catches my eye for the first time in days. He gives me a saccharine grin. “Oh, it will be.”

I give him a sarcastic smile that drops before he even looks away. I turn around, refusing to watch the car pull away. My insides boiling.

Later, after I’ve got enough strange looks from the crew for hanging around like a bad smell, I return to base.

My jaw hurts from how hard I’ve held it clenched. As I near the truck, I try to see if I can see it rocking. Logically, I know the structure is too sturdy but it wouldn’t surprise me for Danny’s thrusts to be that powerful.

Each step towards the truck feels like I’m walking through drying cement, the thought of his hands on another woman — a tall, beautiful woman who has probably never had a hair on her chin — makes me feel ready to throw up.

It’s cruel really, to know what a night with Danny Covington is like. To know what his lips feel like on mine, and how his clever fingers can tease me to my peak. Even with the sour thoughts of what he’s doing in his trailer, I can’t stop the warm flush that envelopes my body at the memory of his lips tracing down my neck.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself at the door to the trailer.If he’s going to be immature about this, I think,so will I.

I bang on the door, loudly announcing my presence. I yank it open with a level of force that almost knocks me back down the narrow steps, and I raise my hand to cover my eyes — partially for self preservation but mostly for the drama.

“You’re needed in makeup,” I snap into the darkness.

My senses are heightened. The door slams behind me and I listen out for any noises from the direction of the couch. Nothing. My imagination runs wild. Maybe they haven’t moved at all, maybe he’s still deep in the throes. Is that a rustle? Is that him or her? Is he pulling his clothes back on?

“What are you doing?” Danny asks with an amused lilt. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking. Prick.

“I don’t want to burn my retinas,” I say primly.

He chuckles softly, I swear I feel his breath on my face. When did he get so close?

“Put your hand down, freckles.”

Biting my cheek and preparing myself to look at his conquest, I lower my hand, pinning him with my coldest glare.

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