Filmed: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (City Series Book 3) (19 page)

Or maybe I was delusional. Maybe I just wanted to mean more to that guy than I actually did. Ellie had said he loved me, but what did she know? She could have been completely wrong, and was just making a desperate play to help Noah. I could have been about to step into a trap.

I groaned, completely torn.

Chris, as usual, was both helpful and blunt. Send the message if I want, she said, but don’t expect it to do anything. Which was basically useless, but at least it was honest. If I was going to send the message, I had to have realistic expectations. The problem was, I didn’t know what my expectations were, let alone what was realistic.

Scanning my bedroom, feeling the pulse in my neck throb, I looked back down at the screen.

Fuck it. Fuck Noah and fuck the burning ache in my chest. Fuck the way I had been feeling ever since meeting him.

I hit send.

I stared at it for a second, half expecting him to reply immediately. He wouldn’t, though, and eventually I tossed the phone away. I stood up and sat down at my desk, booting up Facebook.

Internet stalking. That was the thing I needed, of course. What better way to distract myself from Noah than to stare at his Facebook page and imagine all of the skanks he’d been with since ditching me? I refused to fall into that trap, at least, and avoided trying to find him.

I scrolled idly through my feed, staring at everyone’s updates. People made their lives look so great, almost amazing, but I knew the truth. It was all curated, selected moments designed to create an impression. Nobody posts about the terrible and boring stuff, about hours stuck at work, the minutiae of the same meal for dinner at the same time each evening, or a night spent studying on a Saturday night instead of going out to the latest raging house party. It’s all fancy bars and dressing up, expensive meals and fun afternoons. And I was sick of the image, of the fakeness of everything.

I wanted something real. And I thought I had found it.

Briefly, I wondered if Miss Havisham had a Facebook. I typed her name into the search bar, but nothing came up. Intrigued, I tried searching for the theater, but found a group for Temple’s film studies department instead. I clicked and it took me to their page.

Plastered on their timeline was a pretty basic and cheap looking graphic, but it immediately caught my eye. It was a student film competition, open to any student of Temple regardless of age or year of study. Entry was free, and the films were due at the start of spring semester.

I stared at it, and suddenly the idea hit me. The perfect thing to get Noah out of his shell, the thing we’d talked about doing once before as his fingers traced my naked body.

Excited, I shut my laptop’s lid, and dialed his number.

“A
re you sure you don’t need anything else?” my mom asked me. I stood in her office at UPenn, weighed down by a box full of equipment. I had called Noah a few days ago, and although I hadn’t heard from him, I sent him another message that morning explaining the project and asking him to meet me somewhere that day. I hoped he would respond, but I was ready to move forward anyway if he didn’t.

“I think this is more than enough,” I said.

It was probably overkill, actually, since my mom had gotten me some professional-grade equipment, but I couldn’t complain. I was lucky that I had someone with access to quality gear.

She laughed. “I went overboard, didn’t I?”

“No, not at all. This is perfect.”

There were wireless microphones, two digital cameras, and a huge assortment of other necessary components. I could barely carry it all, and I wasn’t looking forward to the trek back to Temple.

“So, are you going to tell me what this is all for?” she asked.

“No, not yet. But I promise I will.”

I didn’t know if Noah would really be interested, but I believed that if anything could reach him, the idea of that project could. I wouldn’t push him too hard, but I had to do something. Besides, it was a project that I wanted to do regardless of whether Noah decided he wanted to help me or not. In all honesty, that part was only because Ellie seemed to think I could help him, and I couldn’t ignore someone in trouble.

“How’s Dad?” I asked.

Mom sighed. “Your father is fine, honey. Has he called you recently?”

I shook my head.

“He will, don’t worry.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I know he’s busy.”

She shook her head. “Well, be careful with that stuff. It technically belongs to the film department here.”

“I will Mom, I promise.”

“Good luck, with whatever you’re doing.”

“Thanks. I appreciate this.”

I gave her another smile and left, lugging the box.

I really should have asked to borrow Selena’s car.

––––––––

I
climbed up my stoop, drenched in sweat. I was exhausted, and my arms were shaking, but I was so close to being finished. I unlocked the door and looked back down at the box, groaning. Part of me wanted to leave it there and forget about the whole thing but I had come so far. My black T-shirt was sweaty under my wool cardigan and I felt disgusting. I was probably a truly horrendous sight. Slowly, I crouched down, preparing myself for the final leg of my hellish trip.

Before I could lift it up, a voice brought me up short.

“Need some help, dots?”

I slowly stood up and stared at him. He looked different, more tired. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was messier and a bit longer than I remembered. He was wearing a leather jacket over a tight V-neck shirt that showed off the top of his tattoo and slim fitted jeans. It struck me all over again how gorgeous he was, and my heart plummeted into my stomach.

It was a bad idea to contact him. I knew it the second he spoke. I knew it the moment my body responded to the mere sight of him, and the image of his lips against my neck, his fingers between my thighs, came flooding back into my mind. I wasn’t over Noah, I wasn’t nearly over him. And seeing him standing there in front of my apartment, his hands shoved in his pockets and that cocky half-grin on his face, brought a rush of memories and emotions through me.

“Hey, Noah,” I said, hesitating.

“What’s in the box?” he asked, stepping closer.

I was suddenly very aware of how gross I looked. I shook my head, trying to dispel the fear and the embarrassment and the anger.

“Gear for that project I mentioned.”

He climbed the stoop and lifted the lid of the box.

“This is some serious shit, dots.”

“I’m pretty surprised to see you.”

We were standing close together on the small stoop, and I could almost smell his body. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I hesitated. I could help him, but I couldn’t let myself get hung up on him again, no matter what.

He smiled at me. “Well, I’m pretty surprised to be here. But you said you wanted to see me today, so I showed up.”

“How have you been?”

“Starting this already?” The tone of his voice wasn’t sharp, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

“No, I mean, I’m just asking.”

His face softened. “I’m just teasing you, dots. I know Ellie talked to you.”

I nodded, not surprised. I was a little relieved, actually, since I wasn’t exactly great at keeping secrets anyway.

“Yeah, she did.”

“I’m fine.” He looked away, down the street.

There was a short silence between us as I tried to decide how to act around him. The last time I had seen him, we were together, or at least I thought we were about to be. I had nearly forgotten what it was like to be a stranger to him. I wanted our bodies to fit together like they did that night, and his nearness didn’t help that.

“Good, then you’re fit enough to carry this upstairs.”

He laughed and nodded. The tension broke between us.

“Yeah, don’t worry little lady, I got this.”

I snorted. “This isn’t a feminism thing. I lugged this box from UPenn’s campus.”

“I can tell.” He grinned, looking me up and down.

“Oh, you asshole.” That was more like him. I could feel us dropping back into the old familiar banter.

“Grab the door?”

I held it open for him as he lifted the box, making the heavy, awkward container look light and easy. He went in first, and I followed. He let me slip by him and I went up the stairs, aware of his eyes on my ass. I unlocked the front door to my apartment, and he carried the box inside, placing it gently down next to the couch. I followed him inside and glanced around, thankful that Chris wasn’t home. She wouldn’t have said anything, not at first anyway, but I wanted to put off that conversation for as long as possible.

“So, what do we have here?” He began to rummage through the stuff, nodding his head. “Collapsible tripod, HD handheld, decent wireless mics. You even have some lighting. Pretty good stuff, dots.”

“My mom is no joke,” I said.

It felt strange to have him in my apartment; at least, it was strange with the way things were between us. I wished I could give him the full tour, maybe hold him captive in my bedroom for the afternoon, but I knew that possibility was long gone. Instead, I nodded toward the door.

“Care if we go for a walk?”

“Whatever you want, dots.”

“Let me change real fast.”

He shrugged and took out the camera, an HD professional Sony model I had never seen before, and started playing with the controls. I hurried back into my bedroom, heart racing. I tore off my shirt and jeans, reapplied deodorant, and changed into a cleaner outfit. I checked myself out in the mirror and sighed. There wasn’t much I could do, and so I decided to keep it casual and not do anything. He had already seen me at my worst, anyway.

When I came back into the living room, he was holding the camera pointed directly at me, and the red light was on indicating that it was recording.

“Oh god, no,” I said, holding up my hands.

“Miss Dots, what do you have to say about the crisis in the Middle East?”

“I am not doing this,” I said, laughing.

He moved closer, holding the camera with two hands and looking down at the viewfinder. “Miss Dots, please, about the recent allegations regarding your personal life.”

“No comment,” I said, still blocking my face, but smiling.

“We heard you enjoy an active and vigorous evening schedule.”

I gave him a look. “You heard correctly. It’s like a revolving door up here.”

He looked at me for a second, and there was something weird in his eyes. Then it was gone, and he was grinning again.

“Miss Dots, is it true you have a thing for handsome men in V-neck shirts?”

“No, that’s a dirty lie.” I gave him a look and he pretended to be hurt. “Quit playing around, let’s get going.”

He sighed and shut the camera down. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

And it was true. Part of me would have been disappointed if he had been standoffish and distant, though the rest of me was shocked at exactly how normal he was being. It was almost like nothing had happened between us. It was almost like he hadn’t broken my heart by tearing himself out of my life.

“Come on, let’s get out of this dungeon,” he said, holding open the door for me.

“Hey, this place is in a prime spot,” I retorted, walking out into the hall.

“You’re absolutely right, not at all a dank, dark dungeon.”

I rolled my eyes and walked down the steps, pushing out into the street.

“It’s not even in the basement,” I said.

He followed me out. “Doesn’t have to be.”

“I think you fundamentally misunderstand what a ‘dungeon’ actually is.”

He laughed and shrugged. “I’ve seen a dungeon or two in my time, and that, dots, is a dungeon.”

I didn’t bother to respond, just rolled my eyes and started heading toward campus. It was a decent day, though on the chilly side. I didn’t see his car anywhere nearby and assumed he had walked over. He joined me on the sidewalk and we began to head toward Broad Street, moving slowly and not talking. The crowds were thick for a Monday afternoon.

We stopped at the corner of Broad, waited for the light to change, and then walked toward the bell tower, enjoying one of the last few seasonable days of autumn. Winter was fast approaching and soon walks wouldn’t be so easy. I found myself completely forgetting about my troubles with Noah, and began to lose myself in the comfort of having him around. I loved walking and people watching, and could do it for hours every day if I had the time.

“Look, Linda,” he started, breaking the silence.

He stopped, and I turned to face him. He looked serious and sad, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, which was something he did when he was nervous.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I said quickly.

“Just listen.”

I nodded, looking away. It was the conversation I had been dreading. Part of me wanted to ignore the whole thing, pretend like he hadn’t disappeared, but I knew we couldn’t move on if we did that.

“I love this idea. I think we have a real shot at winning.”

I looked back at him, confused. I had assumed he was about to bring up his absence, but instead he was grinning at me. Part of me was pissed that he wasn’t explaining himself, but he didn’t owe me anything, and I couldn’t force him to say the things that I wanted. It had to be enough that he wanted to work with me again.

“Yeah? I figured you might like it.”

“Miss H will be the perfect subject for a documentary.”

I nodded. When I was on the Facebook page earlier, it hit me like a truck. Miss Havisham was one of the strangest, most interesting people I had ever met, and I knew her story would be fantastic. I wasn’t sure how I’d go about it, but I knew for sure that Noah would be interested. He loved Miss H, and probably had something to do with getting her hired at the theater in the first place. Her life was so long and rich, full of drama and information about the film industry, and I knew that if we did it right, we could make something worth watching.

“So you want to do this?”

He started walking again and I hurried to catch up. “Honestly, I don’t know.”