Page 1 of Beneath the Hood

1

Blakely

“You’re not eating much.”

A knot in my stomach tightens, the way it always does when people question my habits. So I don’t want to shove three-thousand calories of greasedown my gullet, and end up spending hours in the gym to work it off.Sue me.

I smile thinly, the force of my lips pressing against each other causing an ache in my jaw. “I literally ate everything I ordered.”

Jared, my best friend Kayla’s flavor of the week, scoffs as he glances at my plate. “It was baked chicken and plain cherry tomatoes. Youcan’tbe full from that.”

I shrug, ignoring the way my shoulder muscles pull tight. “And? Your point?”

His brow arches. “Well, aren’t you still hungry?”

My insides twist, his questioning making my legs bounce under the table and my lungs compress. People never understand the dedication, but I have an image to maintain. I don’t have the luxury of being able to demolish a plate of cheesy fries and guzzle pints of overpriced IPAs. Besides, my body is my temple. I refuse to desecrate it with trash.

My eyes start at the tip of Jared’s perfectly coiffed blond hair, trailing down his pink polo with an alligator on the breast—the fabric soaked in his pretension. Kayla’s been excited to introduce me to her newest “love,” and this is the first time we’re meeting face-to-face. So far, I’m less than impressed.

Kayla smacks his arm. “Leave her alone. She looks fucking fabulous. IwishI had her willpower.”

Her brown eyes swing my way and she winks. My stomach unravels and I grin back at her.She gets it.

Jared’s hands raise. “My bad, Blakely, I’m just saying. I didn’t realize you were on a diet.”

“It’s not a diet, it’s a lifestyle choice,” I hiss. My fists clench in my lap.

Looking past him, I notice the audience of paparazzi forming outside of the restaurant. I paste a smile on my face, not wanting them to snap blurry photos of me sneering across the table.

Lazy bastards.

They don’t even try to hide in the shadows anymore, knowing I’ll play my part every time. They’re blatantly looking through the windows, waiting like vultures to catch an unpolished moment. They’ll have to keep waiting. I’ve been training for perfection my entire life. Having a dad who’s theitproducer in Hollywood comes with a set of expectations. A certain standard you can’t fall beneath, lest you be picked apart by millions of people who will never understand what it’s like to be you. I bring it upon myself at this point, embracing the life I was born into—commandeering the vapid, shallow waters, and steering the sails to make the waves break for me and not the other way around.

Tossing my hair behind my shoulders, I peek down at my shirt, picking off the few stray dark brunette strands. I’m wearing the new Leaxandre blouse and it’s the perfect chance to get some candid shots—it’s why we leaked to the paps that I was here in the first place, after all.

Jared’s hand slinks around Kayla’s chair, playing with the ends of her chocolate hair. I squint my eyes, watching them interact. Kayla’s addicted to relationships. I can’t remember a time where she didn’t have man candy on her arm, claiming they were her soul mate.

She calls it love, I call it codependency, but to each their own, I suppose. I’ve never even had a boyfriend, so who am I to judge?

The problem is, she’s also super attracted to preppy douchebags. Ones who buy the Ferraris but don’t know how to make them purr. And if they can’t handle a machine, how the hell does she expect them to handle her?

Cars remind me of Jackson, my dad’s newest star employee, andmykitty purrs just from the thought of him. He’s way too old for me, and a thousand percent off-limits, but he’s hella hot so I can’t find it in me to care. Besides, there’s something oddly satisfying about slipping under his skin and causing him to shed his calm exterior. I find myself doing things just to get a reaction, and when I do, his irritation sizzles between us and settles into my veins like a current. It makes me feel powerful to incite such a strong reaction in a man who otherwise never cracks.

Besides, it’s nice having someone who doesn’t bend to my will and lay down at my feet following me around like a lapdog once they find out who I am.

I pull out my phone and type off a text.

Me: Miss me yet, Jackson?

Closing the window, I don’t bother to wait for a response.

He rarely texts back, but it doesn’t deter me. He doesn’t live in Cali full time, which makes zero sense to me since his work is here, but I guess the ties to his hometown are stronger than the pull of the California sun.

Swiping through my apps, I pull up my calorie tracker, mentally calculating my lunch before entering in the numbers. The app has a search with most common items listed, but I’ve been at this long enough to know the numbers by heart. I don’t really deviate from what I know. Always keeping the same restaurants in rotation so I don’t have the added anxiety of figuring out what I can and can’t eat.

I sigh, gripping my phone tighter. “You guys ready to go? I need to run home before the club tonight.”

Jared’s brows draw in. “What club?”

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