Matt

I checked my watch as I opened the door of the makeup trailer. I’d barely made it on time. Lana’s warm body had been almost too difficult to leave this morning.

“Hey, Matt,” Jenny said, patting an empty chair. “You’re mine today.”

I grinned. “Perfect.” The head artist was quick and friendly, which worked for me. I took a seat.

“How’s it going up the coast? We haven’t seen you in Portland at all,” Jenny said.

“Yeah, Matt,” Marie, the other makeup artist currently in the trailer, chimed in. “How come you’re not staying with the rest of us? You should join in on our fun one night.” She cocked her hip out and met my gaze in the mirror. “Maine has surprisingly good tequila.”

“My head can testify to the good tequila,” Jenny said. “And there’s some really great seafood in some of these quaint restaurants in town.”

“I’m trying to take it easy,” I replied. I didn’t want them to think I thought I was too good to be staying in the same place as the rest of the cast and crew.

“You on some sort of detox or something?” Jenny tucked the paper bib into my collar.

“Kind of.” I might have been sent to Maine, but it had given me a slice of normality that I found I enjoyed. It was a taste of home. It had been just what I’d needed. “It’s peaceful, and I’m catching up on my sleep.”

“Doesn’t sound like the Matt Easton we know,” Marie said, wiggling her eyebrows. “So is it true that Audrey has tamed you?”

I chuckled and closed my eyes as Jenny started wiping a sponge across my face. “Something like that.” Audrey wasn’t exactly front and center of my attention at the moment.

My phone buzzed, and I shifted so I could take it from my back pocket. “I’ll be back in a few,” I said to Jenny and headed outside.

“Hey, Catherine. I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Catherine and I had been friends since my modelling days in New York. She was an uncomplicated fuck who I trusted not to sell me out. She rarely called me though. I hoped nothing was wrong.

“Hey, handsome, I’ve been thinking about you.”

Normally, I’d reply that I’d been thinking about her too, but I hadn’t. And for some reason I didn’t want her to get the idea that I had. “What’s been keeping you busy?”

“I just finished a shoot for Gucci, so I’m having a celebratory sandwich.”

I laughed. “Awesome, and congratulations, of course.”

“Thanks. I have some time off coming up and wondered if you were still in Maine. You said you might give me a call.”

When I’d found out I was going to be on the East Coast for a few weeks, I’d called Catherine. I’d caught up with her at least once a month since I started the thing with Audrey. And I’d been planning to make the most of the fact that she was signed up to an NDA while we were only a couple of hours from each other. But weeks had gone by and I’d not been in touch. I’d not even thought about her.

“Yeah, I’m on set right now, actually. I’m sorry I haven’t called. Filming is really demanding.”

“If you can’t come to New York, maybe I could fly up for your next day off. I need to burn off this sandwich, and I’m pretty sure you could help me with that.”

That was how it was between us. Casual. There were no expectations other than great sex. It was why our hookups had always worked so well. Normally, I’d jump at the chance to spend some time with her, but the thing was, I wasn’t feeling very enthusiastic. “I don’t have a day off any time soon—the schedule is totally killing me.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. If she didn’t believe me, she had reason not to. I had a day off in three days’ time, and I was sure that if I told her that, she’d have booked flights before we hung up.

But I didn’t want to see her.

The day after our trip to the dunes, Lana and I found ourselves on our respective porches, ended up enjoying the sunset, then going inside together. The next night was the same. And the night after that. In the week since the beach, I’d seen Lana every day. I’d slept in her bed each night. At the end of the day, I wanted to talk to her, hear stories about Worthington and jewelry, have her poke fun at me but know that she came like a train when I fucked her.

Lana and I weren’t dating. It wasn’t as if we were in a relationship. We were just temporary neighbors who fucked. I could easily stay in Portland with Catherine for the weekend. I just didn’t want to. Not when I could be with Lana instead. I was into this girl and it had crept up on me.

“I’m sorry. Maybe when we’ve wrapped?” It was a hollow suggestion. Something told me that casual hookups were off the table for me while Lana was a part of my life. I couldn’t imagine wanting someone more than I wanted Lana—to fuck, to talk to, to have fun or share ideas with. If I had a choice between someone else and Lana, Lana won every time.

“Sure, let me know,” she said. “You know, you sound a little different. Like the Maine air is doing you good. Or maybe you met someone. Either way I’m happy for you.”

I laughed. “You know me.” But she didn’t. Not really. But I had met someone who did. More than most people anyway. “I think I inherited George Clooney’s mantle.”

“If you say so,” she said, though she didn’t sound convinced.

Maybe I wasn’t such a good actor after all . . . maybe Lana had gotten under my skin a little more than I’d realized.