Steal (Seaside Pictures 3)

Again.

Or at least threaten to.

I quickly turned on the heated seats and watched in shock and a little bit of awe as Ang moved the mirrors and her seat so that she was closer to the pedals and maybe just because God wanted to punish me and make me feel like a judgmental jackass — she pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and gave me a shy look. “I um, have night blindness a bit but these help, I only use them when I drive, I think it’s more of a security thing since my vision is normally perfect.”

My jaw dropped.

I quickly took a sip of coffee and choked out. “Cool”

Yeah, I said cool.

A thirty-year-old said cool.

I ground my teeth and tried to focus on the heat coming through the vents rather than the fact that she looked so damn natural, normal… pretty.

And, shock of the century, she was a good driver.

Didn’t run through any stop signs, and when a little duck tried walking across the road she stopped and waited.

The car ride felt too short.

“Wait.” I put my hand on her arm before she turned off the car and shook my head. “We’re early. Let’s just… wait a few more minutes.”

She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. The Rover was facing the ocean, the set was lit up like a Christmas tree as people stumbled around trying to get things ready for the night party scene.

My focus was on everything going on inside that car.

With her.

The steady inhale and exhale between her lips.

The soft way she sipped her coffee, and waited patiently without filling the empty void of space with her voice.

And suddenly I couldn’t take it anymore, I was sleep deprived, probably delirious and talking out of my ass, but I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past my lips. “You broke my heart.”

I didn’t give her time to respond.

I just got out of the car and started walking.

And didn’t look back.

Two PAs took one look at my face then gave me a wide berth as I trudged between them in search of the big ol J, and not the one directing, but the one that came out of a bottle. And just maybe, after I finished it, I could bang that bottle across my head, bleed out, and blame my stupidity on a head injury.

Unfortunately, the wrong Jay found me first.

“Did I just hear that one of my PAs thinks you’re about ready to beat the shit out of someone?” Jay crossed his bulky tatted arms, then shivered, grabbed his black hoodie off his director’s chair and tossed it over his head. “Because I think I’d like to see you lose your shit again.”

I stared down at the sand.

Too upset to even give him a response.

“Aw, mate—”

“Don’t!” I gripped him by the front of his sweatshirt and glared into his eyes. “Call. Me. Mate.”

His lips spread wide into an arrogant smile before he cockily sneered out a. “Mate.”

I shoved him away.

He grinned harder. “Wow, this really is getting to you. The last time I saw you this emotionally distressed was when you thought Zane was going to die. And even then you were still robotic in how you dealt with work, answering emails, going on as if life wasn’t getting ready to kick you in the ass for a second time after Ang—”

“Stop.” I tried walking past him, but it was his turn to grab me by the front of the shirt. My coffee fell into the sand, and then Jay was in my face, his nostrils flaring. I didn’t jerk away; maybe I needed to be hit.

Needed to feel something other than the anger.

Other than the revelation that I was so fucking sad I didn’t know who I was anymore.

A punch would be good for me.

I lifted my chin in preparation.

His jaw ticked. “You’re my friend, Will. Don’t make me hit some sense into you. Shocking, but I actually want you to learn the easy way.”

“Easy?” I spat. “You think this is easy for me?”

“No,” he snapped, releasing me. “Not at all. But I do think it’s necessary, otherwise you’re going to wake up one day alone and you’ll only have yourself to blame, what happens when you start pushing away your friends, what happens when whatever the hell that’s going on in here.” He tapped my chest. “Starts to poison every good thing in your life?” We were getting an audience, but I was too stunned to care. “You’re only as good as the space you put between you and your past. Well welcome to Hell, because you’re done running. That’s what true friends do. Now grab your shit from wardrobe and do your job before I punch out one of those perfectly capped teeth of yours.”

My chest heaved.

His matched.

So much testosterone swirled between us.

PAs were gaping.

Cell phones were out.

And two security guards were ready to break up the apparent fight.

I licked my lips and slowly picked up my discarded coffee cup then shuddered out a. “I think I’d rather be hit, man.”

“Wake up, Will, you’ve been taking hits every day since you walked out of her life, I’m not saying you’re going to shit rainbows if you deal with it, but at least you won’t die of a stroke at thirty-one alone in your pathetic Malibu mansion with all your toys and nobody to share them with.”

He shoved me away and walked off.

I was ready to slam the coffee cup back onto the ground when something caught my eye. It wasn’t my cup.

Or one of the cups that came with the house.

With shaking hands, I turned it over.

“I’ll always be your lighthouse. I’ll always lead you back home.” —Angelica

I HADN’T SEEN Will all day.

But I had heard about the drama that went on between him and Jaymeson, and I wasn’t the only one who was suffering for it. Every actor on set was ready to quit by the time the day was done. I’d never been yelled at more in my entire life.

Apparently, Jamie Jaymeson had a temper.

Who knew?

Nobody could do anything right, he was angry at the rain, angry that the ocean didn’t look blue enough, and when it was time to film the cast party scene all he did was complain that we weren’t trying hard enough.

I think even Linc was getting irritated.

About two hours in, and Pris, his gorgeous and perfect wife strolled on set with Linc’s girlfriend Dani. She took one look at the tension, grabbed his megaphone, and yelled. “Take lunch.”

Jaymeson opened his mouth to argue.

Then Pris grabbed it again and said, “One hour.”

Jaymeson kicked the sand.

I tried not to smirk, but it was hard. Huh, who knew he was such a softy when it came to his wife. A pang I recognized well started to flare to life in my chest, and I wondered, I allowed myself to think about the past, my choices both good and bad. What if things were different? Would I have had that?

Yes.

Because guys like Will, the guy he used to be, they didn’t just… magically appear every few centuries. And if they did, they were most likely taken by someone better than me.

Jay, Demetri, Alec, Linc, Zane — all of the guys were incredible, and they had equally incredible counterparts.

So maybe things wouldn’t have been different.

And now there was too much emotional damage between us.

I sat in the sand and wondered if it had been too much, serving him coffee in one of the many things I’d kept from our relationship and refused to let go of. He’d slammed his coffee cup into a million pieces while packing his stuff away the day everything ended, and I’d kept the one I made for him.

I never shot a film without it.

Never left home without it.

Because a part of me felt like every single time I took a sip from the mug, maybe, just maybe, I could still taste his lips.

I closed my eyes and laid back against the sand, too lazy to grab a towel or do anything but sulk and try to figure out why I was suddenly able to move forward while Will seemed stuck in quick sand.

“Hey!” Zane plopped down next to me, sand landed all over my body. I shouldn’t be surprised, it was Zane.

And then another body plopped on the other side, “Hey, man want a banana?”

“Love bananas,” Zane answered.

“Hey, Demetri.” I said it in a fake surprised voice. “Fancy seeing you here, on set…”