Page 58 of Beneath the Hood

Shock spins through me at her tone and my chest grows heavy. Has nobody ever shown her it isn’t her physical appearance that makes her beautiful?

She’s so much more than what they see.

Her cheeks are splotchy and her eyes run wild, making me worried that if I continue to press her, she’ll spiral.

But I won’t stop watching.

I won’t stop looking, even when she tries to hide her truths behind her lies.

29

Blakely

The rest of dinner is stilted and awkward. Jackson watches my every bite while I try to ignore the way my insides itch at his perusal. It’s an odd feeling, wanting to spend all of my time with someone who both comforts and exposes me at the same time.

He strips me bare in a way I’ve never experienced, leaving me shivering and vulnerable. Standing without a shield, thousands of arrows waiting to fly through the air and pierce my skin.

I expect him to leave after dinner, but he doesn’t. He stays, watching as my glam team arrives and transforms me into the picture-perfect image that people pay to see.

And when Sierra pulls me aside—heaping on the praise for getting Jackson to tag along—I meet his eyes across the room and nausea rolls through my gut.

I don’t want to use him the way she expects.

The way we had planned.

I want to keep him for myself.

Which is one of the many reasons I’m incredibly nervous to bring him further into my life. Not because he doesn’t belong, but because I’m afraid he’ll belong too well.

My dad may think I’m naïve—that I need protecting—but I know how this world works. It’s impossible to live and breathe it your entire life and stay blind to the duplicity that pulses through its core.

I know once people get a taste of Jackson’s charm and his picture-perfect face, they’ll crawl hand over foot to be the one who corrupts it. And while I don’t think Jackson is easy prey, I’m not sure there’s anyone who can outlast the temptation of Hollywood once they set their sights on you.

But I don’t want him on my father’s bad side, or to think it’s because I don’t want to spend time with him, so even though there’s a foreboding chill that snakes its way around my spine, I don’t put up a fight.

“Okay, B, you know the drill,” Sierra says, glancing up from her phone as she slides into the back of the Maybach.

Clearing my throat and nodding, I turn toward Jackson. “You’ll be okay while I work? Kayla will be here, so you’ll have someone to talk to.” I cringe as I say it, remembering the jealousy that rained down through my chest last time I watched them together.

Jackson winks, his pinky finger stretching out to run along the length of my thigh, electricity dancing off my skin at his touch. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, my heart shifting into overdrive. It’s going to drive me crazy having him close enough to feel but too off-limits to touch.

My gaze darts to Sierra and Lennox, making sure neither of them see.

But I should know better.

My eyes clash with Lennox’s and my stomach flips, surging into my throat. His judgment soars across the confined space and scrapes against my skin, waking up the anxiety that lies beneath the surface.

Unease billows in the center of my chest.

He won’t say anything.

The real worry is Sierra. I swing my gaze to hers, my heart jolting against my ribs. But she’s not paying attention, her head buried so deep in her phone she’s in another universe.

I blow out a deep breath of relief, the knot in my solar plexus untangling, and as it does I realize maybe that’s why I latched on to Sierra so quickly and allowed her to become the center of my life.

Because she doesn’t look close.

She doesn’t push.

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