That freaking monster. He’s a total freaking animal.

He loved every second of that, standing there in his towel, mostly naked, a little wet, and sporting a massive…. well, whatever. He wanted me to look, too. He wanted me to stare. And truth is, I could barely keep myself from walking right into that trailer and ripping that towel off his gorgeous body.

I could see the outline. I mean, holy shit… he was huge, and pretty hard. He said he was thinking about me, but come on. There’s no way he got hard just thinking about me like that. Then again, he wasn’t really trying to hide it, and he wasn’t really getting soft, either….

Jesus. I need to stop thinking about Jackson’s enormous cock.

“Are they butchering my story yet?”

I look up from my daydream and catch Laney grinning at me.

“Hey you!” I stand up and walk over to her, pulling her in for a hug. The whole thing with Jackson’s ah, uh, towel happened yesterday, though I can’t stop seeing it like it was just ten minutes ago. We’re on a short break while the actors get changed and prepped for their next scene.

“Place looks good,” she says, looking around the set. We’re shooting on a soundstage that was built to look like the inside of a giant abandoned factory.

“Yeah, it’s actually going really well so far. Sticking to script.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really,” I say. “Though Lionel made some changes.”

She sighs. “They always fucking do.”

“Look, it’s not bad. He just cut some minor characters.”

Laney groans. “Let me see the script.”

“I can’t, you know that.”

She makes a face but doesn’t push the point. I’m not supposed to let the master copy out of my sight, not even to show the writer.

At this point, Laney doesn’t have much to do with the film. She sold her script and that’s pretty much it. She’s allowed on set because it’s customary to let the writer watch, but they’re not allowed to get involved with the filming at all. If the director makes changes, the writer is expected to basically shut up and deal with it.

Laney hates that. I can already tell that she’s itching to yell at Lionel, but I won’t let that happen. I don’t want her to ruin her good reputation just on some minor script points, and besides, Lionel is doing a good job. Although he’s a little odd, he’s a good director.

“How’s that hunk of a lead actor, by the way?” she asks, looking around.

“He’s not bad,” I admit. “Doing a good job actually. He can kind of act.”

“Kind of?” She snorts. “I saw his movie. He’s actually talented.”

“Yeah, well, he’s just okay.” I look away from her. I can feel her studying me right now, trying to figure out what I meant by that, but I’m not going to give her the satisfaction.

“Well, you be careful around him, at any rate.”

I hesitate. “Why?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

“He has a bad reputation,” she says slowly. “You haven’t heard?”

I shake my head, a knot in my stomach. “I try not to read that stuff before filming. I have to work with these people, you know?”

“Well, I don’t have any problem combing through the rags,” she says, grinning at me. We start walking slowly through the scenery as we walk. “Word is, Jackson Hendricks is quite the ladies’ man.”

I frown but stare down at the ground. It doesn’t surprise me at all, considering the way he looks now. He’s so big, so charming, and so handsome. I’m sure he can have anyone on this set right now if he wanted.

Anyone except me.

“He’s been good here,” I say, trying to keep it casual. I don’t want her to know how much I care about this.

“Maybe he is, and hey, this is all just rumor. So you know how it can be. But word is, he slept with literally every woman that worked on his last movie.” She elbows me softly. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll go through this one, too.”

I stumble over a piece of rubble and kick it away. The rock smashes up against a fallen steel beam, or a piece of cardboard painted to look like one at least. Everything around here is fake, everything is phony, including, apparently, the people.

“I don’t think so,” I say.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. He’s working with Holly Hart. Could you look at anyone else if you had to work with her?” Laney grins at me. “Hell, I think I’d give her a try.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Okay, enough. I have to work with these people, remember?”

“Sure, sure,” she says and laughs. “Come on, kiddo. Why the long face? This movie is going to kick ass and make a billion dollars. We’re going places.”

“Yeah,” I agree softly. “We’re definitely going places.

Before she can say more, Lionel calls through the megaphone. “Back to places, people!”

“Better hurry,” I say to Laney. “Wouldn’t want him to start screaming in German.”

“I wouldn’t? I bet that’d be awesome.”

We laugh and hustle back to the front of the set. Laney heads off to sit in the chairs reserved for observers, and I take my place next to Lionel. He briefs me on the scene as Holly and Jackson take their places. The crew assembles, the lighting director makes sure everything is set up, and we get moving.

The scene’s pretty straightforward. The main characters Helga and Brock just finished fighting off an Illuminati-controlled army using their advanced weaponry that they stole from the CIA. It briefly occurs to me that this movie makes no sense, and has nothing to do with the sequel that Laney is supposedly writing, but it doesn’t matter. She’ll probably rewrite it ten times, and anyway, it’s all crazy stuff. If you buy them, you’ll buy anything.

I watch Holly and Jackson closely, but it seems totally normal. Nothing special is happening between them, and they deliver their lines and hit their marks professionally. I can’t help but keep thinking about what Laney said about them, though. Jackson and Holly make a lot of sense, they’re both rich movie stars rising up through the ranks, and they’re both stupidly attractive.

I don’t know why that makes me jealous or why I even care. Jackson is nothing to me anymore. We’re just friends, well, we’re on a friendly truce at least. We’re not even real friends. If he wants to sleep with Holly, he can.

The scene finishes and the crew breaks again to get ready for the last bit of shooting before the end of the day. I go to review the film and cross-reference it to the script like I’m supposed to when something catches my eyes.

It’s Jackson and Holly. They’re both leaning against a prop support beam, and Holly is laughing about something. She tosses her hair and touches Jackson’s arm, which makes him smile. She leans closer and whispers something in his ear, and he laughs loudly.

I’m staring at them and I don’t even realize it until Lionel barks at me. “Script girl, get to work.”

“Sorry,” I stumble, and look back at the monitor, but I can’t help but keep seeing that moment.

Holly’s gorgeous lips next to Jackson’s ear. The way she whispers. The way he laughs. It seemed so… intimate.

I have to get myself together. I’m not some jealous little girl. They’re professionals acting in a film. They’re trying to be friendly together, because it’s easier to be friends with your coworkers than it is to be awkward or whatever else. I’ve seen it a hundred times. Stars become best friends during a film and then they drift apart and never speak again.

That’s what’ll happen with Jackson and Holly. I’m sure of it. I don’t care if they have a friendship.

And yet I keep seeing him in a towel. And I keep seeing her laughing, tossing her hair. Clearly flirting with him.

I need to get it together. This is my job and nothing more. Jackson can do whatever he wants.

We have a truce and nothing more.