Page 17 of Summer's Edge

She’s tried to call me a few times, but the reception up here is so bad that every other word she said was swallowed up by static.

I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that for the last three months I was living the dream, assistant to the head makeup artist of a major Hollywood movie and now I’ll once again be stuck doing it on myself on TikTok and YouTube like I’d been doing for years. I might get the occasional themed wedding gig, or Halloween party to do make up for, but that’s the best I can hope for. There simply isn’t any demand for the kind of work I like to do in Pleasantville.

I can transform anyone into anyone else using my makeup skills. My videos get hundreds of thousands of views and likes, but it all ends with me wiping it off my face right after I’m done filming. All that got me the job in Hollywood, but it’s just too bad I won’t be able to take another one anytime soon.

I complain about that to Eden. She just texts back that I need to come home where it’s safe for now and that it’s the most sensible thing to do. She tries to comfort me by saying even the war won’t last forever, but our conversation fizzles after that and I let her go once I notice Edge approaching.

He’s wearing just a pair of jeans, his t-shirt slung over his shoulder and his hair is wet, glistening a deep gold every time the sun’s rays reach it through the canopy. There’s a huge scar on the left side of his stomach from where he took a bullet for Cross, and it only makes him look more enticing. There are tattoos across his chest and stomach and down his arms, some of which I’ve never seen and all of which I would very much like to study more closely.

I wish he was smiling at me as he approaches, but he’s holding a burner phone in his hand and frowning down at it like it’s done him a great personal wrong.

“What’s going on?” I ask once he’s within earshot. There’s a war going on. Maybe it’s bad news. I regret thinking all those other silly things now.

“Nothing,” he says sounding like he’d rather growl it.

“Is everyone OK?”

He nods. “Yeah. They got Melody back safe, but something else came up. It looks like we’ll be stuck here for at least another couple of days.”

“You don’t have to make it sound like it’s a death sentence,” I snap.

He looks surprised at my tone for a split second, then he grins, while his eyes remain very dark.

“You like roughin’ it then?” he asks wryly. “Fine then, I found a small steam where you can wash. It’s just about ice cold.”

I point behind me. “There’s an outhouse shower type thing in the back with a sun warmed water tank. I’ll just use that.”

He shrugs, gets his own can of coke from the cooler and joins me on the steps. “My way is better. More natural.”

“Yeah, I should’ve told you about the shower sooner,” I say and grin at him. “Sorry about that.”

He shrugs then chugs the entire can of coke, crushing it in his fist once he’s done.

“What the hell are we gonna do now?” he asks.

“I have some ideas,” I say snidely.

He just shakes his head. “I meant for food and such. They didn’t even leave us a car.”

“We could go for a hike and find a store, I guess,” I say.

He looks me up and down, like he’s about to make some sarcastic remark, but then his gaze turns real soft and desirous as his gaze caresses my bare legs. “You ever been on a hike?”

“Are you kidding me?” I say and stand up. “I’m from Pleasantville. Getting to school was a hike with all those ancient redwood forests everywhere.”

I’m grossly exaggerating the situation and my only pair of anything resembling hiking shoes is a pair of dress sneakers with platform heels. But anything is better than spending another day sitting in this cabin bickering with him and trying to keep my hormones in check.

Sometime during my chat with Eden, I realized that’s all last night was. Out of control hormones. I haven’t been laid in months and that’s not counting the three I spent working twelve-hour days in Hollywood. I need some. But he’s not gonna give it to me and that’s that. I really shouldn’t have promised him I’d save his soul, or help him find it, or whatever nonsense I promised him in the dead of night.

“Besides, you can carry me if it comes to it,” I say and smile down at him.

He groans as he rolls his eyes.

“What, are you saying those muscles are just for show?”

He tosses the crushed coke can on the ground and stands up, towering over me.

“Oh-oh,” I say and can’t stop grinning. “Did I say something wrong?”

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