Page 32 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

“I thought you hated blocking and spelling everything out.” Her voice changes as if she’s imitating something I’ve said. “You just want us to act.”

“Yes, that’s typically how I roll, but nothing is typical about our situation. I’ve never not had on-screen chemistry with a costar.”

“So I’m the problem?”

“I don’t know what the problem is.” I shake my head. “I just know we were sent to Malibu to fix it, and for the sake of our reputations in the industry, we can’t show up Monday without some improvement.”

“So instead of getting to know each other, you want to practice our lines and add physical touch to them?”

“Sort of. I want to get to know you physically. Build chemistry that way.”

There’s uncertainty in Jenna’s eyes, a hesitation that reminds me why I can’t get comfortable around her in the first place. It’s hard to create chemistry with a person when all they see are the worst parts of you.

“Okay,” she finally agrees. “It’s worth a try.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited or nervous for an acting class in my entire life.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JENNA

So many words drift through my mind, making it impossible to fall asleep. Words said earlier tonight. Twenty questions with Cody was dangerous. Now I want twenty more. And after that, I’m betting I’ll want another twenty and another.

I scratched the surface of who Cody Banner is, but already, I’m learning so much about why he’s the way he is and what shaped him to be this way. But that’s what makes this game so dangerous. What if the more I learn, the more allowances I make for his playboy behavior until I completely disregard all my reasons for keeping him at bay and end up falling for him?

That’s a pretty specific domino effect, but that’s what I’m scared of. A logical fear for a girl like me. I’ve always been a sucker for a charming-bad-boy persona. I blame it on thirteen-year-old Jenna and her obsession with Danny Zuko from Grease. But I’m not thirteen anymore. I’m twenty-six, and I’m done dating emotionally unavailable guys whose flex is how many supermodels they’ve been with. I vowed I wouldn’t do it anymore, and if you don’t take a vow seriously, what kind of personal integrity do you even have?

So my walls are up, and even with the walls around my heart, I placed a warden to stand guard for extra protection. Ain’t nobody getting through—especially Cody.

Not that Cody’s goal is to hook up with me. But I’d be stupid to ignore the facts. He’s notorious for dating his costars, and I refuse to be the next woman who can’t resist Hollywood’s biggest playboy. I’m here for longevity, for respect, for a career that I can count on for the next two decades, and starting a relationship during my first show as a new actress isn’t a good look, no matter how soft his soft side is.

That’s why I’m currently freaking out.

Cody said, and I quote, “I want to get to know you physically.” Like, what the heck am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to play along with this let’s build physical chemistry game while also guarding my heart? Trying to figure all that out has me staring at the ceiling in the dark at 11:36 p.m.

But then my phone lights everything up.

Tawny: What exactly happened in Malibu today?

Tawny knows what happened. The first thing I did when I returned from the bike ride was text Tawny and tell her about my mortifying experience.

Jenna: Nothing happened besides my pants being taken off me.

I frown at how bad that sounds.

Tawny: Well, look what just popped up on my feed.

I click the link she sent, and suddenly, my screen fills with a picture of Cody carrying my bike—shirtless. Black, bold letters at the top of the article read: ‘Who’s the Mystery Woman that Went Home with Cody Banner’s Shirt as a Souvenir?’

I gasp as my eyes quickly scan the second picture. It’s of me riding away, but the back of me. Thankfully, Cody’s shirt covers my butt. I read through the article as fast as I can, looking for any sign of my name, but it’s all about how Cody started his bike ride in Malibu wearing a shirt—there’s even a picture for added proof—and then ended up giving it to a mysterious woman. The author of the article draws only one conclusion: Cody must’ve paused his bike ride to fool around with a woman who then kept his shirt as a souvenir because that’s the only logical reason why he’s shirtless. The most ridiculous part is that the article doesn’t even touch on the fact that he’s carrying the bike instead of riding it.

My eyes drift to the white t-shirt draped across the back of the chair in my room.

I’m the mystery woman who went home with Cody Banner’s shirt.

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