E I G H T E E N

Pushing through the heavy suite door, I brace myself for the full force of Beau's attitude for not letting him know where I was going and then blowing off all of his calls. Surprisingly, the long entryway into the suite is dark, the only light coming from the main room at the end of the hall. Still, I can see some of Beau's things against the wall for his departure tomorrow. I'll have to tell him I'm staying a bit longer. "Beau?" I call out, placing my bag on the hook by the door.

"I'm here," his deep voice calls from the main room, much calmer than I expected it to be.

Slipping off my shoes, I step out from the entryway and meet his gaze. "Hey," I finally take in the scene in front of me. Beau is sitting on the bed, freshly showered with damp hair and a clean face, leaning against the headboard. In front of him, a pizza box lays open with a bottle of wine beside it. "What's all this?" I find Beau's green eyes behind his long, dark hair.

Beau stands. "I felt bad about what I said before you left." His face is sheepish as I walk closer towards the bed. I tilt my head to the side, having not expected this reaction at all. "I tried to call," He mumbles, staring at the ground.

I nod my head. "I know, I was busy so I couldn't answer."

He runs his hand over his hair nervously. "I thought I could make it up to you." The words are slow to come out of his mouth as he spreads his arm to the side to show me the pizza.

I can't help it as the corners of my lips turn into a small smile. "Beau, I think the words you're looking for are 'I'm sorry,'"

Back to his normal self, he rolls his eyes and lets out a huff. "Okay, Fine. I am,"

"You are what?" I tease, my stomach growling at the scent of the greasy, cheesy pizza. Did he remember the pizza I ordered when he was drunk the other night or is it just a coincidence?

He throws his head back in exasperation. "Ugh, I'm sorry, okay? I was a dick. It was a bad joke,"

I smirk proudly, and plop down on the mattress, starving and knowing he's done the best he knows how. "Pizza and wine? Classy," I pat the bed next to me, beckoning him to join me.

Relieved, he takes his spot in bed and grabs a piece of pizza from the box. "What? It's Italian,"

I laugh, grabbing my own piece, too. We chew in silence for a few minutes and Beau drops his crust back into the pizza box before grabbing another slice. He stares at it in his hand before putting it back down, his brows knitted together in frustration.

Trying to make small talk, I point to the new hoop in his ear in place of the dangly cross he normally wears. "I like that earring,"

He runs his hand over his hair again, seemingly distracted. "Thanks," he mumbles. "So we're good, right?" His eyes are wide as they search my face.

I nod slowly, wiping my hands on a napkin. "Yeah, we're good. Can I ask you something though?"

Beau squints his eyes at me suspiciously. "Go ahead."

I take a deep breath. "So was last night like a one time thing? Was it... ya know, the alcohol or...?" I trail off, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks.

Beau stiffens beside me but breaks out into his devilish, Cheshire Cat smile. "I hope it wasn't a one time thing," he nudges my knee, lower lip caught between his teeth. I blush deeper but don't say anything. Beau sighs and the smile fades from his face, "It wasn't the alcohol, Emma. Everything that happened... I wanted it to happen." He shrugs and his eyes seem to plead with me to drop the conversation. He's not used to talking about things like this, I assume. But the look in his eyes is enough of an answer for me.

"Okay," I nudge him back playfully and resume eating my dinner, grateful for the meal after a long day.

"What did you do today?" Beau asks, opening the wine and chugging straight from the bottle. He hands it to me and why not? I take a long sip before explaining everything to him, reminding myself that he was drunk during our last conversation about my modeling. I tell him how the shoot ended up being successful, and how I'll have to stay a bit longer than we had originally planned. I tense, awaiting his reaction.

"So you're really doing it? I've got to say, I wouldn't have expected you to take the job." Beau admits, none of the usual sarcasm in his voice. "But," he continues before I can respond, "Just be careful. Being in the spotlight isn't all it's cracked up to be," he takes another long swig of wine, staring straight ahead.

"I'll be careful," I promise, wondering if he's talking more about himself than me.

"Especially with Joel." He glances at me from the corner of his eye. "Photographers who hit on their models are creeps."

I suppress a giggle. "Well then, I guess it's a good thing I'm dating Beau Lewis." I swear I see him crack a smile, and for some reason, maybe because I just don't want to be alone, or maybe because I just want to be alone with him, I ask him, "Do you want to stay here with me for a couple more days?"

Beau turns to me suddenly, shock written all over his face. But he recovers quickly, his too cool attitude never too far away. He gestures to the pizza and wine spread, "See, Emma, I knew you wouldn't be able to resist all of this,"

***

The next few days will be busy with modeling stuff for Zara and Oliver, so I decide to get out and explore LA today. I get dressed in comfy, ripped boyfriend jeans, cinching them around my waist with a thin black belt. I hear Beau whistle as he comes out of the bathroom in time to watch me pull a black tank top over my head.

"You sure you don't want to just stay here all day?" Beau lays down in the bed suggestively, the towel around his waist his only form of clothing.

My eyes trail his body, the hard lines of his chest, the dark illustrations etched in his skin, and I have to force myself back to reality. I shake my head at Beau's cocky smirk. "I'd hate to leave LA without seeing any of it," I explain. "I've never really left home before."

Beau groans. "Right. Well, I can tell you all you need to know about LA." The expression on his face tells me his review is probably not that positive. "Actually," He sits up quickly and makes his way to the dresser, pulling out a dark top and ripped jeans. I giggle at our matching outfits, but resist the urge to comment. "Can I bring you somewhere?"

The hopeful look in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. "Just hurry up, I want to get out of this hotel."

I look up at the store and back to Beau, unable to hide the stupid smile on my face. "Wow," I breathe, gazing up at the large building. The massive bookstore begs us to enter and excitement builds in my chest just looking at it.

Beau shrugs casually. "I always saw you reading at the cafe in town, I thought you might like this place," My heart warms instantly as I tug him inside with me like a little kid at the toy store.

Large marble columns reach high to the ceilings, surrounded by books artfully placed in every spot imaginable. I wander throughout the large space for hours, the smell of old pages and worn bindings comforting me as I explore the titles. Beau finds a stool in one of the long aisles and takes a seat, alternating between watching me and typing away on his phone. I come across the vintage section and nearly scream when I find The Great Gatsby. I pull it from the shelf and run my hand over the cover longingly.

Startling me from my thoughts, Beau grabs the book from my hand. "I'll take that," I look up to him, confused. "For you," He nods, grabbing my hand and bringing me to the counter. "I'm starving," He informs me, casually handing the book and his credit card to the clerk at the register. The older woman rings us up and wraps the novel in brown paper, and I hold back another scream when I see the price. "On me," Beau winks, grabbing the bag and leading me outside before I can argue.

I follow after him, "Beau, it's too much!"

He ignores me, walking down the street before finding a food truck in a large parking lot. The aroma is delicious - spicy Mexican food that makes my mouth water. "Want something?"

"I'll have whatever you're having," I give in, sensing that he won't be swayed. We only wait for our food for a few minutes but quickly find a picnic table in the shade, already sweating from the California heat.

I chew gratefully, relishing the savory pork more than I thought I would. "So you don't like LA?" I venture carefully.

Beau tosses his napkin onto his paper tray and crosses his arms. "I just spent a lot of time here when I was younger and I was happy to leave."

I raise my brows at him, urging him to elaborate. In typical Beau fashion, he doesn't. "And?"

"Emma, I know you looked all this stuff up once Fiona gave us our contracts." He lets out a long, bored sigh.

I shake my head slowly. "I really didn't research that much," I admit.

Beau's eyes scan my face and I know he's not sure if he believes me or not. "Why not?"

I shrug. "It felt kind of wrong, somehow. I mean, how would I like it if all the personal details of my life were blasted all over the internet for everyone to see?" Beau chuckles humorlessly, and I add, "Sorry. I imagine it's pretty tough,"

Beau's expression softens a little. "Well, since you are supposed to be my girlfriend," He eyes me, mock annoyance in his voice, "You should probably know. I ran away from home when I was sixteen and I came here."

I almost drop my taco. In my brief internet search, I never saw anything about Beau running away. "Why?"

Beau tilts his head as if it's obvious. "Where else would I go if I wanted to be a musician?"

"No, why did you run away?" I clarify.

Beau shifts in his seat, leaning his head forward so his hair covers his eyes. "Look it up,"

Feeling brave, I push harder. "No. I want to know you on your terms,"

He looks up suddenly, brows furrowed. I continue to finish my meal quietly, hoping he will open up eventually. After a few minutes, he speaks. "I never got along with my family. I had an older brother and he was the golden child, you know? My parents always wanted me to be more like him, and well," He gestures to himself sarcastically. "That wasn't happening. When I got older, people thought I was weird. I fought a lot, and my dad was tired of it. I had this guitar, the first one I ever bought, and one night he was drunk and came into my room and smashed it against the wall. He told me I could get it together and act 'normal' like my brother, or I could leave."

"So you left?" I whisper.

"So I left." He shrugs. Feeling sad for him, but not wanting him to feel pitied, I hold back my comments. My heart hurts imagining Beau as the black-sheep in his family, young and unaccepted by the ones who were supposed to love him.

"Your mom?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head. "I never saw anything, but I think she was too scared to disagree with him. He was a real asshole."

Sensing that he's finished sharing for today, I grab all of my trash and stand. "Where to next?"