Hitman's Hookup: A Bad Boy Romance (27 page)

"Film production," I replied.

"Really?" Wilder asked, looking surprised and happy at the same time. "I'm acting and theater performance. Double major."

I smiled as if I didn't already know that about him. The entire campus knew that about him. He
was
Nick Wilder after all. "That's awesome," I replied somewhat stiffly, searching through my brain for a more interesting follow up.

Wilder scooted closer to me and draped his hand over my naked stomach. "What are you thinking about right now?"

I burst into giggles and couldn't stop until tears were running down my face. "How absurd it is that we're naked on this stage right now with all the lights on. Like some sort of performance. It's just...I didn't expect for my day to end up here, that's all.”

Wilder beamed at me. "I'm unpredictable. There's another thing you can add to the list." I laughed again. He bent down and kissed me again. "I could listen to you laugh all day," he whispered.

An uncomfortable feeling came over me as I stared at his face. This was too good to be true. All of it. Suddenly I felt ridiculous being naked and reached over to cover my body up with the blanket. I searched my brain rapidly for a change of topic.

"You said...you were going to L.A. after graduation? I actually am as well. My aunt lives out there. She's a set designer."

"With your aunt in the industry you have an idea of how tough L.A. Is going to be, then," Wilder replied.

I nodded. "I know I'm going to have to work my way up from the bottom. And that's if I'm lucky. I'm going to stay with her for a while, work her contacts as much as I can. Do you have people out there?"

Wilder shook his head. "No, but I make friends pretty quickly." There was a confidence and surety to his voice that I wished I could possess. He seemed absolutely dead-set certain that everything would work out for him in Los Angeles exactly the way that he wanted it to. I hoped that the feeling was contagious.

“Where’s your family?” I asked him.

“My dad lives in New York. He owns a motorcycle shop. My mom-“ He stopped mid-thought, a sad look crossing his face. “She’s not here anymore. She died when I was basically a kid.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said quietly. I felt uncomfortable. This felt intimate on another level from what we’d just done together.

Wilder shrugged. “My dad’s an asshole. I don’t really see him a lot either. What about you?”

“My mom’s an artist. She sort of does her own thing,” I said, almost laughing at the over-simplified version of that story. “My dad left when I was a kid.”

“Does she live here in Ohio?” Wilder asked.

I nodded. “She has an apartment here, but she’s usually off doing her own thing around the country. I hear from her from time to time.” We laid there in silence for a little while, each of us chewing over our own parental stories.

"You here for May Term?" Wilder finally asked earnestly.

I nodded. "Italian class." It occurred to me to wonder why he cared about that. He was probably just being nice since I'd asked him the same thing earlier.

Wilder rolled onto his side, propping his head up and resting his elbow on the floor. He smiled. "Have you ever been to Italy?" he asked.

I shook my head. "It's on my list. I'm nearly fluent. I'd love to go there more than anything in the world."

Wilder leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. "Maybe I can take you there one day," he said.

I felt the bubble of the moment burst completely at this sudden mention of a future between us. I didn't like the empty uncertainty of that; it was ridiculous of him to even mention it. Reality seeped over me as if my clothes were wicking up freezing water. My face went serious.

"
This?
This is just right now," I said, sitting up and fumbling for my bra. "You really don't need to lie to me or whisper sweet nothings or tell me what you think I want to hear." I gathered my hair so it fell onto one side of my chest, twisting it around my neck and out of the way while I buckled it back onto my body. I reached for my shirt. "I wanted to fuck you, and I did. You wanted to fuck me, so you told me you loved me. Which totally wasn't necessary, by the way," I said thickly through the fabric stretching across my mouth. My head popped out and I saw Wilder's face, which looked surprisingly hurt.

He's an actor
, I thought to myself.
This is part of the performance
. I stepped into my jeans, pulling the tight fabric up over my thighs. My underwear was no longer in a condition to be considered an item of clothing after Wilder's hasty removal; I picked up the scrap of tattered fabric and shoved it into my pocket.

"This was fun, though." I kneeled back down onto the ground and kissed him one last time, feeling his warm lips on my mouth.

Then I walked out of the theater, Wilder still laying on the blanket in silence.

I didn't like the nagging feeling that I'd left part of my heart on that stage. It was just sex.

That was all.

CHAPTER FIVE

OLIVIA

"Juliets, please line up over here," barked the director, pushing her glasses up her nose. I nervously shifted in my seat. Why was I doing this again? I had no desire to be an actor. Film production - that was what I wanted to do. I wanted to be behind the scenes.

Then I heard my mother's voice in my head when I thought that. I heard her telling me to follow my dreams. But I'd watched her my whole childhood stumble from one 'dream' to another. I had no interest in that kind of life. That kind of uncertainty.

I'd settled for film production knowing that actors had astronomical chances of succeeding. There were far more roles behind the camera than in front of it. Production gave me leeway. Production gave me options. Production gave me security. Production was realistic.

And yet here I was, my heart beating wildly with anticipation. Some repressed part of me wanted to be here.

I was standing in line between two gorgeous, gum-chewing sorority sisters. They were both holding their iPhones in their hands. I was holding my script and trying not to thumb nervously through the pages. I was afraid that would be a dead giveaway that I was a complete newbie at this. I'd been in a few productions in high school, but always as Chorus Girl Number Three. I'd never even auditioned for a lead role.

Auditioning for Juliet was going to be a one-time lark. It was hardly spontaneous, but in some ways it happened to fit Lorna's criteria. I was only young once. Besides, I'd heard from my roommate Lydia that they were desperate. Wilder had scared off all of his leading ladies by being a royal cad.

I blushed as I thought back to a week before when Wilder and I had been on that stage together.
What had gotten into me?
The memory of Wilder very literally
getting into me
made my knees start to shake. I had to lean against the wall, taking deep, fully breaths. The brunette in front of me looked at me like I was losing it. She rolled her eyes.

Keep it together, Liv,
I thought to myself.

"Adams, Harriet," called out the director from the front row. I put my script down and leaned against the carpeted wall of the auditorium. As Harriet took center stage, I had a flash of what Wilder and I had looked like up there, intertwined together. By the time I finished
that
daydream, Harriet was finishing up her monologue. A few people clapped politely.

"Donaldson, Letty!"

It was another half an hour before they made it to the middle of the alphabet. I wasn't wonderful at reading body language, but the director hadn't seemed impressed to my eyes yet after a dozen auditions. My legs felt like they were going to give out. I suppressed a nervous yawn.

I didn't feel tired in this moment of adrenaline, but I had barely slept the last week, replaying the events of my evening with Wilder over and over again in my head like I was a schoolgirl. Lydia had been sound asleep when I returned that night, every light on in the dorm room and the television blasting
Ghostbusters
through the screen. I'd been relieved that I could get straight into bed without any prying questions. I hadn’t mentioned it to her at all. I think I felt if I told someone else, I’d realize it had all been a dream.

I tapped my foot on the floor and looked in front of me.
Three more Juliets to go.
I wondered how many people had come here just so they could get the opportunity to kiss Nick Wilder.

"I need you all to take a seat for a few minutes while we reassess this process," the director called out. Every person left auditioning for Juliet groaned. We were going to be here all day at this rate. The director called over several underclassmen who were working on set. "Get Wilder," she said to one of them. My stomach turned over.

A few minutes later he appeared from backstage. Wilder rubbed his eyes with his hands, his blonde hair sticking out in all directions. He looked tired and serious. He hopped off of the stage and leaned over the front row of seats to listen to the director, nodding his head. Then he stood up and rubbed his hands together and hopped onto the stage just like he had that night we’d been together.

The director turned in her seat toward the rest of us. "Okay, girls. Here's the deal. The first half of the field are all a no. They won't be getting a callback. I'm taking my chances hoping one of
you
will be the real deal. You'll be auditioning with Wilder onstage. You have three scenes to choose from, so I hope you all studied the entire script. Decide when you get up there and Wilder will go along with whatever scene you choose."

The two sorority sisters I had the misfortune to be sandwiched between began whispering and giggling nervously to one another. I tried not to roll my eyes. Jealousy burned within me. I had butterflies in my stomach. I tried to say I didn't care, but a ridiculous part of me wanted to tell both of them that I had fucked Wilder. That he’d told me he loved me. That he had seemed genuinely hurt when I’d left him before he had the chance to leave me.

I looked onstage and saw that Wilder wasn't looking over here. He was joking around with one of the guys assembling the balcony set piece. I was fairly confident that he hadn't seen me yet.

"Okay, ladies. Levinson, Louise! Take the stage."

I stood there chewing my lip as I watched Louise go through wooden dialogue with Wilder. He could barely hide his contempt and disappointment. The director cut Louise off mid-couplet. She left the stage in tears. The next candidate got onstage and completely forgot her lines.

Then it was time for Sorority Girl Number One to hit the stage. Her name was "Lorde, Amanda!"; she was pretty wonderful if I was being honest with myself. Wilder even reached out in an impromptu move and took her hand. I tried to not feel jealous about that.

And then, suddenly, "Martin, Olivia!" was called onstage.

"Oh God, that's me," I whispered. The girl behind me snickered. I rolled my script up and stuck it in my back pocket, walking onstage. Time seemed to stretch out before me. The look on Wilder's face told me that he hadn't known my last name, nor had he bothered to see the women lined up to be onstage with him. He was shocked.

He cleared his throat as I approached him, not taking his eyes off of me. They were on fire. "Diane," he announced calmly. "I want to do Act 1, Scene 5. Is that alright?"

My stomach nearly fell through my feet.

I glanced at Diane, who pulled her glasses off of her face and exhaled. "Fine, fine. Whatever you want." She checked her watch. "I would like to be home before
tomorrow happens
, so get on it!"

Wilder turned to me with a single nod. I nodded back. Then he spoke. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

I swallowed hard, feeling myself swept up by the moment. I knew these lines better than any others. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

Wilder took a step closer to me and put his open palm on mine. We walked around each other in a circle like we were dancing, staring into each other’s eyes. I felt like I had stopped breathing. There was nothing in the world but this, right here, in front of me.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" Wilder replied, smirking and stepping closer to me as we continued to spin as if dancing.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer,” I returned, biting my lip and blushing slightly.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray - grant thou, lest faith turn to despair," Wilder replied.

My heart was beating faster and faster. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

Wilder stopped walking, gripping my hand firmly and pulling me close to him as he had done the night before. My cheeks were on fire, and everyone knew it. Especially him.

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take," he said. Then he leaned in and we kissed for seconds. Minutes. An hour. Maybe two. It was forever. My heart was pounding so loudly I felt like my bones were vibrating. This kiss made me certain I hadn’t dreamed the night we’d had together. That had been real. This was familiar.

He was the first to pull away. The entire auditorium was silent. I realized that the construction that had been taking place behind us had stopped. I was breathing heavily, still holding onto Wilder's hand.

Diane was the first to speak. "Everyone else can go home," she said. "We have our Juliet."

There were moans of despair and disgruntlement from the remaining Juliet hopefuls. Still, Wilder and I did not move. I heard backpacks being picked up. I let go of his hand and turned to walk away from him. Only then did Wilder speak. "Actually, Diane. I don't think this will work."

I stopped moving and glanced at Diane. She was livid. "Are you fucking
kidding me
, Wilder? That was the first time all production that you actually remembered your lines. And you're telling me this won't work? Why?"