Page 47 of Book Boyfriend
“Are you pregnant?”
And this is how rumors begin.
The first thing I notice are several trailers lined up along the side of a building. There’s a big white tent with tons of people inside. I want to hurl. I didn’t know what to wear, so I let Luna dress me. I stare down at my short skirt. I look like I’m trying too hard. Luna insisted I let all the other women see what I had to offer. Tugging down on my shirt in the back, I hope it will bring it up higher in the front to hide some cleavage. It’s no use. The girls are on display. Ugh.
I park the car in the studio lot and text Fisher to let him know I’m here. Opening the door, I step outside and attempt to lengthen my skirt by pulling down on it. Suddenly tempted to leave, I wonder if I have time to run to the nearest Target for a new outfit.
“Hot damn.”
Twirling to my left, I watch Fisher strut toward me. His walk reminds me of Channing Tatum in “Magic Mike.” He’s grabbing a hold of his lips as he shuffles his feet toward me with what I can only describe as swagger.
“Excuse me. I know this is a little forward, but would you like to climb back into your car and make out? Damn, you are fiiiinnnneee.”
I close my eyes and shake my head, pulling on my shirt. “Is it too much? I let Luna dress me.”
“Luna just became one of my favorite people in the world. Remind me to send her a fruit basket or something.”
His arm swings around my waist and he pulls me tightly against his hard chest. “You look beautiful. I missed you.”
My stomach does somersaults as I get a whiff of his cologne. He bends his head and kisses me below my ear. “Maybe we should skip this and go somewhere.”
I snicker as I grab a hold of his tree trunk arms. “Wouldn’t your crew wonder what happened to you?”
He sighs. “Probably. Thanks for coming. Are you ready to see what I do all day?”
“Sort of. You know how you always want me to open up and tell you more about myself? Well, I’m about to spill. I have major social anxiety. Usually, I’m okay once I get inside, but right before an event, I always feel like I’m going to pass out.”
He listens intently as if I’ve somehow revealed the secret combination to a safe. “Hold on to me. If at any point it’s too much, just squeeze my hand three times quickly and I’ll get you out of there. Okay?”
I nod and he takes my hand as we walk. He points to a park. “We do a lot of the outdoor shots over there. There’s a school up the street and we film there a lot on the weekends. I’m supposed to be a high school English teacher.”
“You don’t look like any teacher I’ve ever seen.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Let’s just say I probably would have loved coming to school if I had a teacher who looked like you.”
We enter the tent and I grip his arm with my free hand. He lets go of my hand and places his arm around my waist, pulling me snugly to his side. I feel safe and protected. It’s a new feeling and one I could get used to.
“Macy, this is my director, Arthur Westbury. Arthur, this is my girlfriend, Macy Greer.”
I can’t help but do a double take at him. Did he just call me his girlfriend? I shake hands and smile at a lot of people over the next thirty minutes, but all I hear over and over in my head is him telling everyone I’m his. I don’t know whether to jump for joy or be mad that he didn’t ask me first.
All my thoughts go flying out the window when a gorgeous blonde shouts his name across the tent. Fisher immediately drops my hand and gasps. She rushes to him and he meets her halfway, picking her up and spinning her as he hugs her. Half the tent laughs as the other half seems to be questioning who she is, along with me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks excitedly.
“Do you think I’d miss a chance to see where my best friend works? So I had to drive a couple of hours . . . I still look fabulous, don’t I?”
“As beautiful as ever.”
Rubbing my forearms, I start to feel like everyone is watching me for a reaction. After all, he did just introduce me as his girlfriend a few minutes ago. Now it seems he’s forgotten I exist. If he were next to me, I’d squeeze his hand three times, but since he’s not, I decide to make him remember me.
“Fisher?” I question as I walk over to him and touch his arm.
He pulls his gaze away from her and smiles. “Macy, this is my best friend, Chloe. Chloe, this is Macy.”
He fails to call me his girlfriend this time and if he thinks that little tidbit is lost on me, he’s sadly mistaken. Chloe. I briefly remember him listing her as one of the few people he trusted while we were in Florida. I never gave her a second thought until now. My mistake.
