Hard & Fast (Rules to Break #1) (12 page)

For a second, he’s so startled that he doesn’t react. But then his arms are around me and he’s kissing me back, hard and urgent and desperate.

We’re gasping for air when I finally pull back.

“Not that I mind,” he pants. “But what’s that about?”

I don’t answer, just kiss him again until he’s backed up into the wall.

Even though our fight about his ex is behind us, even though it’s not my fault the pictures got out, even though Kate is right, I can’t help feeling like the whole thing has left us in a murky grey area. I need to make things better.

Headlights pull into the driveway, and someone honks a horn. Cole pulls back and holds me at a distance. His hair is mussed and his lips look kissed.

“That’s my agent. We have a thing.”

I try not to let my disappointment show and back away to give him space to rearrange his clothes. “Oh. Okay. Have fun.” I paste on a smile, but even I can tell it’s fake.

“You sure?” he asks. “I can cancel . . .”

The way he says it though, I know that he doesn’t want that. He’d rather get in that car. My rational mind tells me that I’m being unreasonable—he had plans, and I can’t just drop in and expect him to break them. But I also can’t help feeling like being apart right now, when everything seems so tenuous between us, feels dangerous.

I nod as my insides churn. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great,” he says brightly. He gives me a chaste peck on the lips, and then he’s gone.

Chapter Thirteen

I intended to stay up until Cole got home last night, but sometime between pretending to work on my screenplay and the fifth show I watched on Netflix, waiting up for him crossed the line from being sweet into being incredibly pathetic and desperate.

I spent the whole night tossing and turning, plagued with nightmarish thoughts about what Cole was up to, reliving every moment in the foyer and trying to decide if he kissed me back same as always, or if he was different. If we were different.  

It was after three in the morning when tires finally rolled up the driveway. I jolted awake, my heart a jackhammer in my chest. The last time he’d come home at such a late hour, it was to fuck a supermodel. I almost got out of bed to check up on him, but truthfully, I didn’t really want to know. And more than that, I was done playing the part of the jealous lover.

By the time my alarm went off at six a.m., I’d only just fallen asleep. It took me a long time to even figure out why I’d set an alarm, and then I remembered: I had an audition.

Getting out of bed was the last thing I wanted to do, but the house was still and silent, and I didn’t want to be around when Cole finally woke up. So I kicked off the covers and got ready as quickly and quietly as I could manage, slipping out of the house just as I heard footsteps upstairs and Cole’s bedroom door crack open. I’d half expected him to chase me down the driveway, ask where I was going—at the very least, call me. But he didn’t. I should have been happy. Instead, I wondered why.

I pace the packed waiting room, twisting the script in my jittery hands. A few girls dart glances up at me, but I don’t care about them. I don’t even really care about this audition, if I’m being truly honest with myself. All I can think about is Cole. Last night. The pictures. My mom. I swipe sweat from my brow. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m going to bomb this audition so bad.

I almost leave, but then a woman with a clipboard comes out of a door at the end of the hall and calls the name I impulsively gave.

I follow her through a maze of hallways into a boardroom. The usual panel of judges stare me down, and I can’t help thinking about what I look like to them. A damp sweat has broken out on my forehead. I’m wearing a blonde wig – a last minute decision to cover up the hair that was so visible in the photo of me and Cole. My skirt is wrinkled, and I can’t be sure, but I think I have armpit stains on my blouse. I’m a fucking mess.

But it’s too late now. And really? Who even gives a shit anymore. I’ve bombed a thousand auditions. Why not one more?

“Name?” a man in a blue button-down asks.

“Kate Macintosh,” I answer. The last thing I want right now is any added scrutiny over Cole Dean’s mystery woman.

We get a few more particulars out of the way, and then someone tells me to go ahead.

I get off to a rough start. Cole and Mom swim in my head and I can’t remember the lines on the script. I wince and peek down, reminding myself where I am, what I’m doing. I can feel the disapproving stares, and it bolsters something inside me. I take a deep breath and drop the script. I forget about everything else and become the character, letting all of the anger, the disappointment, the insecurity—all of the bottled up, pressurized emotions waging war on my body—breathe through my words.

When I’m done, the man in blue gives me a curt nod, and I deflate. Because of course it’s not enough. I walk back out, past the packed waiting room of hopefuls, wondering how many more auditions like this I can take before I finally have to face the facts about my acting career. 

~

I’m working in the home office in the afternoon, trying yet again to drown out the effect speaking to my mother yesterday had on me. No matter what I said to her on the phone and how much I tried to believe the words when I was saying them, I’ve felt uncomfortable ever since and I can’t get away from that fact. What she said dredged up every argument we ever had about me coming to L.A. She never even gave me a chance to say that I had an audition lined up. Actually, she never asked how my acting was going at all. I can’t decide whether to be glad about the fact I didn’t have to discuss how I still haven’t got anywhere, or whether I feel so horrible because all she wanted to talk about, all
anyone
will talk about, is how those photographs looked. I don’t want her to be right. But I can’t escape the feeling that she is. Still, fretting about her is better than thinking about Cole. I haven’t seen him since I got back from the audition.

I make phone calls, arrange Cole’s schedule and fill in the planner so it’s up to date for the month. I’m making reservations for the next dinner with his mother when he bursts into the office, banging the door against the wall. “There you are!” He’s brimming with excitement, face all animated like a little boy.

My stomach jolts, but I hold a finger up, motioning for him to wait while I hold on for the guy on the other end of the line to confirm the booking.

Cole fills up the doorway, radiating energy. He widens his eyes at me and I begin to get impatient with the guy on the phone too. What’s so damn important? The last time he was this excited, I was in the shower and he was asking me if I had a passport.

The second I end the call he starts talking. “Okay, so I have some great news. Now, bear in mind that it’s only something small. This late on into filming there wasn’t really much else I could do, but it’s a start, and there is one line so that’s something and I think—”

I hold up my hands. “Cole, stop. What are you even talking about?”

He laughs, swinging into the room and leaning on the desk, knocking a stack of papers sideways. “A role. Well, it’s just a tiny bit part, but it’s something, right? I would have done more, but if you think about it, it’s probably best like this. More unobtrusive, because I know you have concerns about this sort of thing.”

I push back into the desk chair, a little block of ice forming inside as I begin to understand what he’s talking about. “Cole,” I say, very slow and clear. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings this time. “Tell me exactly what you’ve done.”

“I
am
telling you what I’ve done,” he says, grinning at me. “Yesterday, when I was with my agent? I got you, Rose Weatherston, a very small part on the movie that I am shooting right now. One line, like I said, and before you say anything,” he holds up his hands and takes a step back from the desk, “yes, I was listening when you said you didn’t want any favors. But you haven’t asked me for this so it isn’t a favour at all and I swear no one will think or even know that it had anything to do with me.”

The cold inside me spreads outwards, numbing and shocking at the same time, like spilled ice water. Cole stands there with his arms crossed, waiting, as though he just gave me a gift and he can’t wait for me to unwrap it.

Eventually, he can’t stand it anymore. “Aren’t you going to say anything at all? Come on, Rose, this is a good thing! You have to be on set tomorrow, but don’t worry, I think your boss will give you the day off.” He grins again.

I push to my feet fast. “You can seriously stand there and say that to me and yet not see the problem with this?”

He’s taken aback, doesn’t know what to say for a few seconds. “Look, I know you don’t want to accept hand outs, but that’s not what this is. I already told you—”

“And I already told
you
that I want to earn a part. Through talent. Not because I screwed you. Did you even hear a word I said?”

He stands there, disbelief all over his face.

“How is any of this hard to understand, Cole?” I yell at him.

“I thought—”

“How could you think this would be okay with me?” I shake my head, heart pounding hard. I grab the edge of the desk so he can’t see my hands trembling. “Can’t you see what everyone will think?” I can hear my mother’s voice in my head now. See everyone putting two and two together after those photos splashed all over the paper. Rose Weatherston fucks for roles. It might as well have been the headline.

“Who cares what everyone thinks?”

“I do,” I almost scream at him. “I care. You don’t even know if I can act!” I think that might be the worst part of all of it. He’s never even seen me act. How can he be offering me this for anything to do with my talent when he doesn’t know if I have any.

Cole’s face changes, his eyes hard and angry. He steps back from the door. “Grow up, Rose. I didn’t do this in exchange for you fucking me. This is the way the world works. And for the record, I was trying to be nice.”

I make an incoherent noise, part utter frustration, part anger and regret that I don’t have words to express. I run out of the office and out of the house to the pool. The sun blinds me, sitting in a sky so blue it hurts. My skin is instantly hot and I’m shaking. I can’t see any way out of this now. Thoughts are skittering around my head but they just chase each other in circles. I want him. I can’t stop wanting him. But I wanted an acting career first, and I wanted it more, didn’t I?  Now I’m just the latest girl in a long line of girls photographed with Cole.

I hear the front door slam and a car start and there’s another noise, but it doesn’t register for a minute. It’s only when it stops and starts again that I realize it’s my phone. I pull it out of my pocket. Three missed calls from my mom. I almost throw the damn thing in the pool, but as I’m holding it, it rings again. Mom doesn’t usually call this many times straight in a row, even if we are fighting. 

I take a deep breath and answer it. If she wants to make me feel awful some more, she might as well do it now. I couldn’t feel any worse.

“Rose? Thank god you answered. I’ve been trying to reach you, I—” She breaks off and there’s a hitching sound on the line, like she trying to breathe, or trying not to . . . cry.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” It’s baking hot, but the back of my neck prickles. My mother is not prone to displays of emotions. She makes another choking sound and I start to panic.

“Mom? Mom? Are you okay?”

She sucks in a long, sobbing breath. “It’s your dad. Rose, he had a heart attack.”

The words hit me in my chest. Suddenly, the blue sky and the bright sun dim and I feel unsteady. I don’t want her to say anything more. I can’t ask the question I have to ask. Instead, all that comes out of me is a little girl’s voice. “What do you mean?”

“Where are you?” she says. She sounds more together, the childish sound of my voice pulling her back into mother mode.

“Is he okay? Is he going to be okay?”

Mom’s voice wobbles again. “He’s in the ICU. They’re taking really good care of him.”

“I’m coming home,” I say. I take a step forward, then have to steady myself on a sun lounger. “I’m going to the airport right now. Okay?”

Mom starts crying, outright crying. I can tell it’s with relief when she says, “Okay, Rose. I’ll see you soon.”

The phone shakes in my hand when I end the call. I stare at it for a second until I realize it’s my hand shaking. Then I rush back into the house and up to my room. I stuff handfuls of clothes into a case, snatch up some toiletries and spend ten fraught minutes trying to find my passport. I don’t let myself cry. I can’t spare the time and I can’t let myself go to pieces. But I get more and more frantic as I search, until eventually, after tearing apart my whole room, I find it right there on my bedside table, still with the Prague tickets tucked inside. I look at them briefly, then drop them in the wastebasket. When I’ve finished packing, there’s nothing left in the room to say I was ever here. 

I drag my case out of the room and down the stairs and call a cab, too nervous to sit while I wait for it. I pace up and down the hallway, staring at the gate buzzer, willing the taxi to arrive. When it does, I run out of the house and down the driveway to meet it. I’ve left the keys to Cole’s house on a side table in the hallway.

The whole journey to the airport, my knee jitters up and down, up and down. When we finally get to LAX, I rush out of the cab, up to a terminal and book the next flight out. It doesn’t leave for an hour and half and I nearly scream at the man behind the desk. He senses my desperation though and is extra courteous, which almost makes me cry. I’m a mess.

By the time I board the flight, the reality of it all has sunk in and I’m exhausted as I drop into my seat for a six-hour flight. I press myself against the window and don’t even look around when someone sits in the seat next to me. My phone is buzzing with texts and calls. I glance at it as the words blur and sobs begin to shake my body. They’re all from one person. Cole.