Page 343 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Door!” I call out, and they huff before the door finally clicks closed. I roll my eyes as I drop onto the couch. “I’m sorry about them,” I say. I motion to the empty space across from me. “Want to sit? Oh. They interrupted before I could get you anything. Do you want water? I’m nixing the Dr Pepper idea because that would mean opening the basement door again, and I think that’s probably a bad idea.”
He smiles, and this oneisreal. The mask from moments before is gone. “I’m okay. But thank you.”
A tiny ribbon of satisfaction unfurls in my chest. I’m not getting actor Flint. I’m just getting Flint. I didn’t realize it was something I appreciated—something that even mattered—until right now.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs. “That was pretty impressive how you handled them,” I say motioning toward the kitchen and the basement door just beyond. “They can be a lot, and they’re big fans.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“Do you ever get tired of it?”
He shrugs, but I don’t miss the way his jaw ticks first. “It’s part of the job. And trust me, they were a lot nicer than a lot of people are.”
“I don’t know how you endure that kind of attention all the time. It would make me want to crawl out of my skin.”
A flash of uncertainty crosses his features. “Why, do you think? Is it the crowds or talking to people you don’t know, or…?”
I narrow my eyes, studying him. His question—or maybe the way heaskedthe question—feels very specific. Like he’s looking for a particular kind of answer. “I mean, I’m not incapable. I defended my dissertation in front of an entire auditorium ofbiologists, and I’ve spoken at multiple conferences. I can handle attention. I just don’t like it. And it drains my social battery pretty fast.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
“Does that ever happen to you? A drained social battery?”
He grins. “My brothers would say no, and admittedly, it takes a lot. But yeah. It happens. Press junkets usually do it.”
“I have no idea what that is,” I say.
“Three days of hell,” he says, but then he shakes his head and gives me another easy smile. “Or three days of interviews promoting a movie. All the actors and directors gather together in one place and journalists file through for back-to-back interviews.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is exhausting.” He runs a hand through his hair, then leans forward, his elbows propped on his knees. He fiddles with his fingers for a moment, and I get the strangest sense that he’s nervous about something. “Actually, that’s part of why I’m here.” He looks up and meets my eye, his gaze serious. “I have an unusual favor to ask you.”
I sit up a little taller and drop my feet to the floor, suddenly feeling like a serious question deserves serious posture. “Okay. Shoot.”
“This is going to sound weird at first, I’m just warning you. And you’re probably going to think—” His words cut off, and he clears his throat before he starts again. “Actually, let me give you some background information first. That’s probably going to help.”
The next five minutes are a blur as Flint walks me through the details of his new movie—and his last relationship. His co-star, Claire McKinsey. The way she’s talking to the press about him. The problem this is creating surrounding the upcoming premiere in Los Angeles.
The longer he talks, the more confused I become. Because what on earth could this possibly have to do with me? All he could want is advice, and I’m the last person on the earth who would know anything about how to navigate a situation like this.
“If I were dating someone else, this would be easier,” he continues. “But I’m not, and I don’t exactly have a lot of time to sort that out before the premiere. But after talking to my publicist, and my manager, we’re thinking that I only need toappearas if I’m in a relationship with someone else,” Flint says.
“A decoy,” I say, at least understanding this much. “That makes sense. If the public thinks you’re seeing someone else, it will only make Claire look foolish if she keeps up her narrative.”
He lets out a relieved breath, like he’s grateful I understand. “Exactly.”
“So you just need someone to pose as your girlfriend?” I tug at the drawstrings of my hoodie. “I’m not sure I understand what any of this has to do with me. Are you hoping I’ll know someone who can help?”
My question seems to take him by surprise. “No, that’s not—” He runs a hand across his face, and I notice a slight tremble in his fingers. “Audrey,” he finally says, “I’m here because I wantyouto come with me.”
Me.
Me?
Audrey Callahan posing as a movie star’s girlfriend?
And that’s when I start to laugh.
