Chapter 180: Chapter Eighteen

Priscilla

I hated scary movies. But I knew a romantic comedy would just make me think about the kiss with Jaymeson, and anything else wasn't distraction enough. Plus, he was an actor.

I swear he was in every single one of my favorite movies from the past five years. The only thing he'd never done was a horror film, so horror film it was.

Luckily Demetri had hooked up the Apple TV so we had Netflix. I clicked through the movies and settled on What Lies Beneath. It was older, so I figured it wouldn't be super terrifying.

An hour into the movie and I almost felt like sobbing.

Jaymeson had screamed at least twice, and I was pretty sure he was just as freaked out as I was.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Don't do it, Harrison! Don't do it!” Harrison Ford opened the door to see his possessed wife lying across the floor. “Damn you, Harrison Ford. Damn you!” Jaymeson shouted.

I burst out laughing. “Are you always this entertaining to watch movies with?”

“Shh!” he snapped, and then grabbed a handful of popcorn all without looking at me or anything else but the movie screen. “She's going to kill you, dude! Get out of there, get out!”

I stopped watching the movie and watched Jaymeson instead.

He cringed, he closed his eyes, he inhaled like he was running a half marathon, and when the car went off the bridge he said so many curse words that I was blushing from head to toe.

The movie ended.

The credits rolled.

Jaymeson stared at the TV for a few seconds before turning toward me. “That was some scary shit.”

“Really?” I tilted my head. “I wouldn't know. I was having way too much fun watching Mr. Crazy.”

He grinned. “Great, my nickname's Mr. Crazy now?”

I gave him a solemn nod.

He reached for some more popcorn and leaned back into the couch. “I can't help it. I always talk when I watch movies. It's a curse.”

“I love it,” I said without thinking.

The look he gave me made me blush, his eyes dilated slightly as a smile spread across his gorgeous face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin against them. “I can tell you get really into movies.

He chuckled. “I may know they're fake, but I still hate scary movies. I was asked to do one last year and backed out at the last minute.”

“Pansy.”

“Shut it.” He threw a pillow at me. I ducked. “It was a movie about being possessed. Not really my cup of tea, love.”

I nodded. “What about now? What's your next project?”

He hesitated then looked away. “I'm up for a part in that new book series getting made into a movie.”

“Have I read it?”

He snorted, “Probably.”

“Which one is it?”

“The Innocent Love Series.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

He rolled his eyes. “It's okay, you can laugh, I know it's not a typical part for me to want.” He fidgeted with his hands and popped his knuckles, like he was nervous or something.

“Hey.” I threw the pillow softly back. “You're an actor, you can do it, right?”

“Right.” He cleared his throat.

“Is that why you're here?”

He didn't answer right away.

“Jaymeson?”

“Vacation.” He licked his lips. “Away from the Hollywood scene, and then hopefully they give me the movie.”

“So, you'll be here for a few weeks and then leave?”

“That's the plan.” His voice cracked.

“Well,” I said, putting the popcorn bowl onto the table. “I hope you get it. I think it would be really good for you to do something other than action movies.”

His head snapped up. “You do?”

“Of course.” I folded my arms around my knees. “Girls will love it, and if you can pull off the main character angst then you'll be even more famous than you are now.” I tried to keep my voice light.

The night had been so fun that I hadn't thought about the fact that he'd be leaving soon. I would be alone again.

But I still had Smith.

And Jamie.

“Maybe.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I don't really care about the fame though, honest. I just want to do something different.

“You won't.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you're Jamie Jaymeson,” I teased. “You can do anything, right?”

His face lit up, he reached across the couch and grabbed my hand. “Thanks, Pris. Sorry to be so depressing.”

I squeezed his hand back. “No problem.”

A loud crash sounded outside the condo.

I shrieked, Jaymeson cursed about the condo being haunted.

“What was that?” I whispered.

“Ghosts,” he answered seriously. “Punishing us for watching Harrison Ford.”

“Be serious!” I released his hand with a jerk and got up to my feet.

He pulled me back down to the couch. “No, let me check it out.”

“What are you going to do? Swear at the ghost?”

“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the sliding glass door. Carefully, he slid it open and poked his head outside.

“Ghosts?” I offered.

“Worse.” He gave a shudder. “Huge storm. The water's going crazy out there and one of the neighbors' potted plants fell off the ledge and took a swim in the Pacific.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I hate storms,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Just like scary movies?” I yawned.

“Yeah.” Jaymeson smiled tightly. “It's late. I guess I should be going since we have all those crazy boxes to pack tomorrow.”

He walked slowly to the door then turned. “Breakfast?”

“Are you asking if I'm eating breakfast or are you offering to cook me breakfast?”

Jaymeson shoved his hands into his front pockets, at times he seemed so unsure, like I was going to snap at him or something. “I was kind of offering.”

“Then, yes.” I smiled. “Breakfast.” I ignored the pitter-patter of my heart at his bright hopeful smile. I was not falling for him. Not at all. He was a player.

“Great.” His accent was always more pronounced at night as if he was too exhausted to remember to say his words differently, I kind of loved it. I loved how he said his R's.

I needed to stop staring at his mouth. That much was clear.

“Night, Pris.” He opened the door and left.

With a sigh I got off the couch and cleaned up, putting the bowl into the dishwasher and wiping the countertops. I needed to get some food if I was going to be staying there for the next week or so.

I checked my phone.

Two missed calls.

Both from my dad.

He was probably freaking out, but my parents and I had always had one of those relationships. We loved each other, but we were distant.

I sent him a quick text.

Me

I'm fine, will call in the morning, kinda sleepy. All is well — btw does the house still have insurance? What do you need me to do while you guys are with Dani?

He texted back right away.

Papa Bear

Okay sweetie, Stella told us you were okay, just wanted to hear your voice. CHAT:Papa Bear: Stay safe at the rock star's house and try not to break anything. Kidding. CHAT:Papa Bear: We'll discuss the insurance later.

I'm… I'm hoping everything will be fine. It always is, right?

Me

Right…

Papa Bear

Are you scared?

Me

?

Papa Bear

Being alone. Want me to send someone over? I hate that you're by yourself. CHAT:Papa Bear:You always cried when it was too dark.

Laughing, I texted him back.

Me

I'll just keep my phone close, if I panic I'll call you and you can chase the darkness away.

Papa Bear

I'll always chase the darkness away.

Me

I know.

Papa Bear

It will be fine. Always is. Get some rest. Love you, sweetie.

Dad, optimistic to a fault. That's why everyone loved him. If it was raining, he'd say to be thankful we weren't in a drought.

I turned off the lights to the living room and was about ready to go into the bedroom — the one Jaymeson had convinced me to sleep in — when I heard a knock on the door.

Other than Jaymeson, who even knew I was there?

I looked through the peephole to see a drenched Jaymeson waiting for me on the other side.

With a jolt I pulled the door open and jerked him inside. “You're going to get sick standing in the rain. What's wrong?”

He crossed his arms over his muscled chest. My mouth went dry. His shirt clung to him like a second skin. I didn't mean to, but I started checking him out. Who wouldn't?

His body was tightly muscled, as if he hadn't eaten a cookie a day in his life. Every ridge of his impressive stomach was thickly corded. I hadn't realized how cut he was.

Magic? Yes. The movies? No.

“I, erm…” He rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm scared shitless.”

“Of the rain?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And the movie, and the thunder.”

“Have you always been afraid of storms?”

“What, are you a profiler?” he snapped, an angry tone to his voice.

“Whoa!” I held up my hands. “I was just curious — stop attacking me.”

“Sorry,” he grumbled, bits of water rolling off his chiseled face and onto the floor.

“You can stay here.”

“Really?” A smile returned to his face.

“Guest room, and I'm locking my door so don't get any ideas.”

“We're friends,” he said simply. “I can control myself around friends.”

Well, at least one of us could. I hated that his comment made me sting.

“Cool.” I pointed back to my room. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Alright.” He started walking in the opposite direction, whispering, “Goodnight, love.”

“Night.”