A knock on the trailer door made Aidan groan and drop his head into his hands.

“Again?” he said in a low voice. “I already tried the entire line on.”

Mikey shrugged and went to open the trailer door. Instead of someone from wardrobe, Aidan’s dad walked in.

“How are we doing?” he asked, clapping his hands together in excitement.

“Okay,” Aidan answered. “Are they set up for the first shot?”

His dad rubbed his jaw. “Almost. They ran into some kind of issue with the camera. Did you get to makeup yet?”

“Yeah.” Aidan leaned back into the couch. “The makeup girl just left.”

“Let me see.” His dad squatted and peered intently at Aidan’s face. “That’s a lot of foundation.”

“Not for the camera, I don’t think.”

“No.” He shook his head forcefully. “It’s a lot. I’m going to get her in here. Don’t go anywhere.” He looked over at Mikey. “What are you doing?”

“Um, contemplating humanity’s existence as a whole?”

Rick grunted. “Did your dad get back yet about my idea?”

Mikey briefly glanced at Aidan. “Not yet.”

Rick nodded, moving his jaw around like he chewed on a thought itself. “It’s a good one.”

“Yeah,” Mikey said in such an unenthusiastic way Aidan had to work to stop himself from laughing.

“It’s a good idea,” Rick reiterated, turning away. “A great one.”

He stomped from the trailer, closing the door behind him.

Mikey looked at Aidan. “So I always suspected this, but now I know it to be absolutely true. Your dad only puts up with me because my parents are movie producers.”

“Uber-successful movie producers,” Aidan clarified.

“Exactly.”

Over the last year, Aidan’s dad had been full of ideas, one of the latest being that, in place of his ended tennis career, Aidan could pursue a career in acting. He’d come up with a movie idea that involved Aidan playing some coach who inspired a team of inner-city kids by teaching them tennis.

As derivative as that idea was, even by Hollywood’s standards, Aidan wasn’t surprised at all that Mikey’s dad hadn’t returned a call about it.

“I don’t want to be an actor,” Aidan said.

“I know.”

Aidan nodded. Being good friends with Mikey for almost six years meant he didn’t have to explain much. They’d met at a house party, bonding over the fact that they were the only two people there who wanted to go swimming in the pool rather than get drunk out of their minds.

Mikey sipped from his paper coffee cup, eyes wide. “I fear for that makeup artist. No way is she prepared for the wrath of Rick Coleman.”

“Yeah,” Aidan muttered, his mind already drifting to the girl he’d met the day before. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since she got into her car and drove away.

With a heart-shaped face, big, hazel eyes, and long bangs that almost touched her eyelashes, she’d been pretty in the way that only a girl who doesn’t know she’s beautiful could be. Even when he closed his eyes then, he could see her. He could hear her voice, feel her gaze on his. But it wasn’t her cuteness that put her on his mind—though that couldn’t be denied.

It was the fiery spirit she’d displayed that caught his attention. She’d been irritated and she hadn’t been afraid to show it. No one, other than his closest family and friends, ever really showed their true feelings to Aidan. In his world, everyone was too busy doing their best to please the celebrity rather than getting to know the real person behind his star status. But not that girl. She didn’t seem to care about who Aidan was or what he wanted.

“Earth to Aidan.” Mikey waved his hand in front of Aidan’s face. “Did you hear me?”

Aidan looked up at him from the couch. “Huh?”

“What do you want to do tonight? I mean, provided the shoot is actually only eight hours.”

“Um—I don’t know.” He tried to think back to the small bits of Haven Sound he’d seen in the few days they were there, but couldn’t come up with much. The coffee shop downtown. That girl. The sandy beaches. That girl. The comic book store Mikey had freaked out over. That girl.

“What do you think her name was?” he asked.

Mikey sat down on the couch next to Aidan and started flipping through one of the sports magazines the production had put on the tiny coffee table. “Who? The makeup girl? I think I heard someone call her Audrey.”

“No. The girl from yesterday. At the park.”

Mikey scrunched his face. “The rude one?”

Aidan hesitated. “Well, she had a point. I guess in her eyes we were the rude ones.”

Mikey shook his head. “I don’t think she wanted us to know her name,” he answered, going back to drinking coffee and browsing the magazine.

“I wonder if she lives around here. Did she say the name of the place she worked for?”

Mikey slowly looked up from an article about running shoes. “What’s going on here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, man. Don’t play with me. You think I can’t read you like a book?” Mikey made a face. “That girl made it pretty clear that she didn’t like us. She didn’t even seem to care that you were— you know, you. I highly doubt she wants to see either one of us ever again.”

“That’s what makes me want to see her. She didn’t care that I’m famous.”

“Or she didn’t know you are.”

Before Aidan could answer, the door opened again and his dad came in, followed by the makeup girl and the assistant director.

“It’s too much foundation,” his dad said, waving his hands all around. “He’s going to look like a clown up there.”

The makeup girl obediently began pulling wipes from her bag, and Aidan gave her an apologetic look. His dad could be intense. Aidan himself had learned to deal with it years ago, even before his dad became his manager, but he felt sorry for anyone who unwittingly found themselves in Rick’s crosshairs.

The touch-up done, the assistant director began going over the schedule for the day. It was Aidan’s first shoot with Fresh Wear Athletics, part of a two-year promotional deal. He’d be shooting three commercials and four still-photo shoots. After that, the potential existed for further partnership.

Aidan hadn’t cared about doing the campaign, but his dad had really wanted him to do it. ‘It’s money,’ he’d said. And, ‘It’ll keep your face out there.’

Aidan had more money than one person could ever need and he didn’t quite get why his face needed to stay ‘out there.’ He was twenty-seven now. His career had ended a year ago. Even if it hadn’t come to such an abrupt halt, his time in the tennis world would have petered out eventually.

“And then we’ll be done for the day,” the assistant director said, closing his binder with a snap. “By the way, I want to say it’s an honor to be working with you. My daughter is a big fan. That year at Wimbledon—Wow!”

Aidan’s chest tightened, but he tried to ignore the constricting feeling. Instead, he stood and shook the man’s hand. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“The youngest ever,” his dad commented. “Let’s see that be beat.”

Aidan’s cheeks flamed. If he could change one thing in his life, it would be that people wouldn’t talk so much about his winning Wimbledon at fifteen. It was kind of hard to find things to look forward to when your greatest accomplishment had occurred before you could legally drive.

“Also,” the assistant manager said, eyes shifting downward. “I’m sorry about the—”

He trailed off and Aidan had to swallow hard. Now came the second thing he wished people wouldn’t constantly bring up. He’d blown his knee out. In the middle of a match, no less. On national television, where everyone could see. It had been a stupid move. One wrong step and one doubly wrong twist.

In one second, his career was over. He’d accepted it. He’d moved on, but it seemed the rest of the world hadn’t.

“Thanks.” Aidan forced a grin.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the assistant director said. “We should be rolling here soon enough.”

“We could use some hemp milk,” Aidan’s dad told the man.

The assistant director blinked, looking confused. “Okay, I’ll, uh, talk to craft services about it.”

As soon as he left, Aidan looked to his dad. “Hemp milk?”

Busy typing away on his phone, he didn’t look up. “You’ve been having too much dairy. You’re not working out as much as you used to, Aidan. Gotta watch your diet.” Not waiting for an answer, he left the trailer.

Exhaling heavily, Aidan turned to look at Mikey, who’d remained sitting on the couch through everything.

“Hemp milk?” Aidan repeated.

Mikey made a face. “I thought they made hammocks or whatever out of hemp.”

“Beats me. Are you going to come out to the set with me?”

“I might pop by.” Mikey’s gaze floated slowly to his laptop, which sat closed on a chair.

“How’s it going?”

“One day I’m going to finish the outline—one day.”

Aidan nodded. He’d never written anything other than school assignments and couldn’t imagine just what writer’s block felt like.

“Hey,” Mikey said, “That girl—from yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re never so stuck on someone right after meeting her.”

“She was different.”

Mikey’s eyes narrowed. “Was she?”

“Yes,” Aidan answered slowly. “What is that question supposed to mean?”

Mikey sighed. “Look, I only want to make sure this promotional stuff is what you actually want to be doing.”

Aidan stared at his friend, feeling like they were suddenly speaking two different languages. “Okay, now I’m confused. You just flipped subjects out of nowhere.”

Mikey gave Aidan a look that was almost sad. “You’re not trying to distract yourself by obsessing over a stranger, are you?”

“Distract myself from what?”

“From this.” Mikey purposefully looked around the trailer.

His friend knew him all too well. Aidan was tired of living under the spotlight and he often caught himself longing for a simpler lifestyle. Mikey was right about that. He was wrong about one thing, though. Thinking about the girl he’d met the day before wasn’t an attempt to distract himself. He’d traveled all around the world and met many women in his life. But he’d never had such a powerful reaction to anyone’s presence. An awkward sense of emptiness swept over him at the thought that he might not see her ever again.