He tried to blink and clear his thoughts, but before he could, the bed shifted next to him. His breath stalled in his chest. Then a decidedly feminine sigh filled his ears. A familiar one.
Oh no. Oh fuck.
The scent of the silky sheets filled his nose then. A familiar perfume. Kenzie. He was in Kenzie’s bed, and he had no memory of how he’d gotten there. Based on the pounding in his head, though, he’d guess he’d gotten there via a river of booze. Christ.
Kenzie groaned. “God, I need to get blackout shades. This California sun is no joke.”
Jasper didn’t want to turn over. He didn’t want to face this. But what else was there to do? Reckless Jasper had done something stupid. Again. He closed his eyes, counted to five, and then eased onto his back. He hadn’t been imagining the sounds and scents. Kenzie was there as real as ever. She propped her head up on her fist and looked down at him. “Welcome back to the world of the living, loser.”
Jasper flinched, her voice piercing his pounding head. “Kenzie.”
“Well, at least you still remember my name. I’m not sure you remembered your own last night.” She gave him the hairy eyeball. “You’re lucky I got you out of there before you made an ass out of yourself in front of Angie and Phil.”
Jasper rubbed his head. “I don’t remember leaving the restaurant.”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” she said, all sarcasm. “You celebrated like a rock star. I half carried your ass up here.”
He glanced down at the flimsy tank top she’d slept in. “Did we…?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Jesus, no. Give me some credit. I’m not a date rapist. You were out of it, Jas. I didn’t think it was safe to leave you in some hotel room. So I brought you here, dumped you in bed, and you passed out.”
A tidal wave of relief flooded through him. “Oh, thank God.”
She gave him an affronted look. “Gee, thanks. I’m glad the thought of sleeping with me is so repellent.”
“No, it’s not—” He winced at the stabbing pain in his head. “It’s just, I have a girlfriend.”
Have not had. He didn’t know why the words had come out that way. He and Hollyn had broken up. But he didn’t correct the statement. He didn’t want to.
Kenzie’s eyebrows went up. “You have a what now?”
He pushed himself up on his elbows, his stomach pitching a little. “The woman you met at rehearsal the other day. Hollyn. We’re dating.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait. The chick with the tics?”
Jasper pinned her with a hard look. “Don’t fucking call her that.”
Kenzie sat up and lifted her palms in surrender. “Sorry. I just… That’s unexpected. She’s…”
“Smart and beautiful and talented,” he said, fully annoyed now.
“Hey, I wasn’t going to criticize. If you like her, that’s cool. But…” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug.
“But what?”
She pressed her lips together as if choosing her words. “Look, I’m not trying to be the storm on your parade or whatever, but you just landed a starring role on a TV show. Some new hometown relationship doesn’t exactly have the best outlook. Is she going to move out here with you?”
Jasper rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, trying to get the ice pick of pain to stop stabbing him. “No. She can’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Kenzie reached out and gave his leg a pat. “But honestly, it’s probably for the best. Everything in your life is going to change when you get here, Jas. Think of all the people you’re going to meet, all the opportunities you’re going to get. The most beautiful and talented people live here. You don’t want to be tied down to some part of your old life. That’s like walking around the clouds with an anchor tied to your foot. You need to leave that stuff behind.”
The words rang like a bell in his head, the familiarity reverberating through him. He looked up and met her no-nonsense gaze. “That’s what you did with me, wasn’t it?”
Her brow creased. “Huh?”
A sick feeling that had nothing to do with the hangover filled his gut. “You broke it off with me because I was the hometown boyfriend. I was the anchor. You wanted to be freed up to find a richer, more well-connected boyfriend. I wasn’t him. Until now, when I may have a chance to be that for you. Now I’m interesting to you again.”
She tilted her head and gave him a patient look. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me out to be the bitch and you some maligned party. You know what happens to relationships out here when one is a star and the other is a civilian? The regular person gets crushed under the weight of it. The media eats them alive. Or they get to sit home and watch the person they love hang out with the most beautiful, talented, famous people in the world, always on the outside looking in. They get to sit home and watch the kids while the other person is on location for months doing love scenes with someone on People’s Most Beautiful list. I didn’t want that life for either of us. So when you sabotaged that last audition before you left LA and I landed a role, I saw the writing on the wall.”
His jaw clenched. “I didn’t sabotage that audition.”
“They told you not to improvise, and you improvised your ass off. You wanted to prove that you knew better, that your way was the better way instead of listening to what they wanted you to do.” She pulled her hair to the top of her head and secured it into a bun with the hair band around her wrist. “I thought you were going to do it again yesterday, but you finally got your shit together and showed them you could take direction. Thank God. You need to let the improv go. It was good training, but you’ve got a real acting job now. Let the writers do their job and write for you. Memorize the script, follow the stage directions. Be a professional.”
Let improv go. Memorize scripts. Be a professional.
He tried to imagine never being onstage again without a script, never getting the rush of that living-on-the-edge state in improv.
Onstage. Improvising.
Panic hit him like a baseball bat to the gut. “Oh, fuck.” He scrambled out of bed, his head protesting at the sudden movement, and scanned the room for his phone. “What time is it?”
“What’s wrong?” Kenzie asked, the covers falling from her and revealing she’d slept in only a tank top and underwear.
“The time, Kenzie.”
She reached behind her for her phone, which was sitting on the side table. “A little past ten. Why?”
Dread and panic filled him. “Fuck! Where’s my stuff? I need to go.”