Steal (Seaside Pictures 3)

“I forgot how funny you could be when you’re not trying to play the part of the bitch.” He winked.

I glared willing all the squid to come to shore and strangle him to death.

“Turn around very slowly, make eye contact with Will, and when you do, I want you to tell me what you feel.”

“I’m not playing this game.” I crossed my arms.

Jay grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me until I had no choice but to see Will’s face, he was laughing with Lincoln, one of the extras walked by him, stopped, giggled, then asked for his autograph. She should be fired from set for that. I rolled my eyes.

“I feel… irritated.”

“Try again.”

“Why are we doing this?” By now people were starting to turn their heads toward us, including Will. Great just what I needed, more attention without my armor.

Without makeup.

Sexy clothing.

Without a shield.

His nostrils flared the minute we made eye contact, his half-lidded glare was filled with a mixture of heat and hatred. All I wanted to do was run. Jay held me in place.

He asked again. “What do you feel?”

Several more people looked our way, looked at me, looked through me, judged me. Hell, the world judged me, and the one person I trusted never to do that, to always be there when I needed him, was doing the exact same thing.

“I feel…” My voice caught as Jay slowly released me, my eyes darted from right to left, so many people, so many stares, so many personal opinions about my life, my past, my even being in the movie. “I feel afraid.”

Jay sighed then said in a low voice behind me. “Now you’re ready for the scene.”

I had no time to prepare.

He walked behind the camera.

The scene slated.

“Action.”

I stared at the camera as if I’d never seen one.

I stared down the audience that would watch this movie, that would see this scene, the audience that would judge me based on the first few minutes of this movie, judge this movie on the first few minutes of seeing my face.

And suddenly, just like the waves behind me, in synchronized rhythm against the sand, tugging and shifting the earth — I crashed.

Sobs wracked my body as I fell to my knees, lifting my head to the sky as ran pounded against my face mixing with the tears that slid down my lips. Palms open I sat there, I sat there and let them judge, let them see how deep the cuts had been, how badly I’d been injured both by myself and those who promised to love me, and then on shaky legs, I stood, stumbling into the sand castle, stumbling to my knees, and then for some reason, I just, couldn’t stand.

So I crawled, then pressed my cheek against the sand as a wave crashed over my body, chilling me to my core.

Another wave followed, my drenched shirt clung to my body as salt water filled my mouth, spewing out with each heavy sob.

I was so tired of fighting.

So tired of trying to prove something only to be judged when it wasn’t the something people wanted.

I was so damn sick of trying to earn back trust I knew I didn’t deserve.

I was tired of the fight.

Maybe I was just tired that I had to.

One more wave crashed, and then for some inexplicable reason, anger followed that wave, and I was suddenly throwing my hat into the ocean, followed by my shirt, leaving me in nothing but my bra.

And then I stripped the rest of the clothes from my body, stumbled out of my jeans, and dove in head first.

I was ice.

I was death.

Dark water surrounded me.

Storm clouds gathered above me.

And it felt good.

Because for the first time in years.

The only thing I cared about.

Was feeling something other than fear.

I wasn’t sure how long I was out there, but my teeth were chattering, my body was shaking.

And suddenly arms surrounded me.

I expected them to be the rescue team.

But they weren’t the rescue team at all.

They were Will’s.

I COULDN’T LOOK away from her.

And I’d bet my entire fortune that nobody else on set could either. The sheer agony on her face was reason enough to be transfixed, but what followed was such raw, gut-wrenching emotion that it hurt to breathe, and it only got worse as she fell against the sand.

I flinched and dug my fingers into my palms, ready to spring into action to save her from the stares — from the world.

It went against every fiber of my being to watch her hurt in that way, to see the real Angelica — the one I had fallen for — expose herself to all of these strangers — the world — to the very people who stoned her when she came clean about who she really was.

When she came clean about our breakup.

The drugs.

Everything.

She didn’t owe them shit.

She didn’t owe me either.

And yet she was giving us everything.

My heart of stone began to beat in those few minutes when I fought with the desire to catch every last one of those tears with my lips and promise they’d never happen again even though I had no business making promises like that.

And when Jay still didn’t end the scene.

When I’d seen enough.

When she’d given enough to these monsters.

She started stripping.

I sucked in a shocked breath as her shirt went flying over her head, her bra, her tangled jeans and thong.

I closed my eyes only to keep myself from doing something rash like beating the shit out of every single person who was watching this blessed moment — this raw — powerful moment that not one of us should be allowed to witness.

I opened my eyes.

The perfect curve of her back faced the camera.

The small spot just near the right side of her hip that I had once worshiped and kissed until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.

The matching tattoo that ran down the side of her thigh.

The same one I’d gotten on the inside of my finger so that when I played my guitar I could see it and know she was with me.

My heart warred with my brain, with logic, with the damn facts that she’d broken us, that she’d chosen herself over us, chosen drugs, chosen him.

When all I’d ever wanted.

Was her.

Angelica’s body flailed in the ocean.

“Enough!” I barked.

Jay leaned back in his chair, completely ignoring me, the bastard didn’t even take off his head set.

I stomped over to him and jerked it off and grabbed him by the shirt. “That’s enough.”

“Not yet.” He said in a calm voice, not even pissed that I’d grabbed him.

I waited, my hands still digging into his shirt.

Another wave crashed over her.

She could die.

Hypothermia happened all the time in Seaside.

“Jay!” I roared.

I didn’t think.

Couldn’t think past the need to save her.

To do what I should have done years ago.

To be her hero even when she told me to go to hell which is exactly what she’d done when I’d found her the first time snorting coke with Andrew.

“What are you going to do about it?” Jaymeson asked in that same calm voice as all eyes fell to us.

“I—”

He grinned.

“I hate you,” I spat.

Then I ran like hell toward the ocean, kicking off my shoes in the process. The waves overtook my body like an angry tumultuous storm — they matched my emotions, the same battle within.

I grabbed Ang’s arm, then one of her legs, dragging her body back against mine, she was frozen, and her breathing was shallow.

“Will?” Her blue lips pressed together, yet somehow still trembled with cold. “What…what’s h-happening? Is the s-s-scene over? Do I have to redo it?”

I was too angry to speak.

Too irrationally enraged to do anything else, I peeled my wet shirt off and put it on her naked body then picked her up in my arms and carried her back onto the beach.

I didn’t realize the cameras were still rolling until Jay yelled out, “Cut.”

I was still a mess of emotions when one of the PAs handed me two towels and two robes.

I rubbed down Angelica’s arms with the towel. She must be half dead and delirious with the way she clung to me with her shaking hands. Or maybe it was just because I’d been in the frigid ocean for mere seconds when she’d nearly drowned in it.