Page 23 of Anyone But the Superstar

But when we open the door to the gym floor, all my sadistic workout plans go out the window, just like I wish I could, when I’m swarmed by a group of people.

‘It’s him!’

‘Felix Jones!’

‘Will you sign this?’

‘Take my room key!’

‘Did you really propose to Camilla?’

It’s the last one that makes my blood boil. My eyes flash to Jack, who already has his phone out and is barking orders.

I do my best to smile as women snap pictures of me withtheir smart phones, one of whom I think is live streaming. By the time hotel security finally intervenes, I’ve signed multiple autographs, posed for various fan selfies and dodged a lot of uncomfortable questions about my supposedfiancée.

I may not have gotten my workout in, but by the time I’m back in my hotel room, I’m so exhausted by the ambush, I face plant on the bed.

Jack, still on the phone, continues issuing orders and asking questions for another twenty minutes before finally hanging up. ‘I’ve got good news and bad news.’

I grunt in response.

‘Bad news. Camilla Branson has spread rumors that you two are engaged.’

While I already guessed it from the fan’s comment earlier, hearing Jack confirm that Camilla has started talking about me again feels like a punch to the gut.

‘She didn’t come out and say it herself, but she had one of her friends, that hotel heiress—’ he stares at his phone, reading whatever’s just been posted about me ‘—mention that she was in the market for a bridesmaid dress.’ He scoffs. ‘And when one of the reporters asked if it was for Camilla, she winked.’

Closing my eyes, I can see everything Jack just read play out. Probably at some stupid socialite function, or D-list celebrity outing, where those with money but lacking the fame they so desperately desire do and say anything to get noticed.

‘Which,’ Jack continues, as if I didn’t already know, ‘in Hollywood, is as good as a confirmation.’

This is why my lawyers are having trouble putting a gag order on Camilla. Besides the very first thing she asked for, she hasn’t demanded or even publicly said or done anything that I can sue her for. She’s been using her bevy of socialite friends tostir up trouble, all while holding personal information on me that she knows I don’t want to see the light of day.

Forcing myself to roll over, I don’t even twitch when a stem from one of my pillow’s goose feathers jabs into my neck. ‘Did you say you also had good news?’

Jack strides to the closet and pulls out my empty suitcase, tossing it on the bed next to me. ‘I found you a better place to stay.’

Liz

Something bad is about to happen.

From my perch on the kitchen counter stool, I stare out over the morning sun glittering on the large expanse of water that my new condo overlooks with a sense of certain doom.

Too many good things have happened over the past few days since the press junket.

The place Em said I could stay? A large condo within walking distance of NASA.

My job as a storyboarder? Sit and draw all day. Alone.

The award-winning douchebag I was worried I’d run into? Haven’t seen him.

Turns out storyboarders are part of pre-production. Our work is used to help the director and cast plan the set-up for each of the film’s scenes. It’s usually done ahead of the cast and crew showing up on location but since NASA only gave the studio permission to be on-site for a limited amount of time, some of the pre-production – like storyboarding – is happening in tandem with filming.

But not overlapping, thank God. Meaning I can continue to avoid the leading man.

I simply draw the set locations then turn them into my professor so he and Ron can plan camera angles and how the location visuals will interact with the script.

My phone buzzes with a notification telling me my grocery delivery is on its way. While I may not have a car, I have a phone, and it turns out that in Texas, you can have your groceries sans delivery fee. Meaning I’ve been able to supplement my catering table gorging without breaking the bank.