Page 36 of Lights, Camera, Love

When I wake up next to Evie, I have to grip my thighs to keep myself from reaching for her. From pulling her into my chest, tucking her head beneath my chin and letting myself believe that I can have this.

I tilt my face to meet her sleepy-eyed gaze. Her cheek is nuzzled into her arm as she lies on her side. Soundlessly, we watch each other, a blush climbing my neck as I recall every detail of last night. We haven’t slept much.

Evie burrows into me and exhales a contented sigh against my shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she says softly.

I wrap my arm around her and pull her close. My hand weaves through her loose hair, the silky strands coiling around my fingers. ‘How did you get so beautiful?’ I murmur, sliding my leg through hers. ‘My luminous little firefly.’

She turns her cheek to look up at me, her eyes bright. ‘Your what?’

I gently clasp her chin. ‘My firefly. That’s what I call you sometimes. Because you’re so … glowy.’

‘Glowy?’ she echoes, blurting out half a laugh.

‘You light up the room, Evie. You shine. In a world full of moths.’

Her face dips with embarrassment, then flicks back up. ‘But you love moths,’ she says, glancing at my Picasso moth tattoo.

‘Just the cool-looking ones,’ I remind her.

A smile curls her lips. ‘ Firefly , huh?’ She falls onto her back, flopping an arm behind her head. ‘You know, you’re not the only one who had a secret nickname going. Secret nicknames are kind of my thing, actually.’

‘Oh, yeah? You got one for me?’

‘Of course.’

I shift onto my side to stare at her, wondering if I really want to know this. ‘Hit me up then,’ I say. ‘Wait—no, let me guess. You’ve been calling me … Sugar Lips.’

She snorts.

‘What?’ I reply, feigning surprise. ‘You said you like my mouth.’ I push my bottom lip out into a pout, and Evie lets out a breath as she leans close to stamp a few kisses there.

After she settles onto her back again, I say, ‘Doll Face. That’s what you’ve been calling me.’

She chuckles and shakes her head.

‘Sweet Cheeks?’ I try. ‘Hot Stuff? Boss Man? ’

She lightly whacks my arm. ‘Groucho,’ she says.

‘ Groucho? ’

She climbs onto my chest and lays over me like the world’s most priceless blanket, her chin nestled into her folded arms. ‘Oh, come on, you know you can be a bit of a grouch. Just last night, when you arrived at the party, you looked like you’d swallowed a cup of razor blades.’

I have to laugh. She’s not wrong.

‘After we met, it took weeks for you to actually smile at me,’ she continues. ‘Which is just as well, really. Your smile should come with a warning label. It should be registered as a lethal weapon by law, like the fists of professional fighters.’

I’ve got zero hope of not smiling now.

Evie’s eyes sparkle. ‘Now, who’s beautiful,’ she says, reaching to trace her fingertips over my lips. I take hold of her hand and pull her thumb, with its almost-gnawed-off nail, closer to my face.

‘Why do you do this?’ I ask, frowning.

‘Bad habit. I don’t even realise I’m doing it most of the time.’

I bring her thumb to my mouth, pressing my lips to the angry-looking skin. Her fingers close around mine and mini fireworks burst between our palms.

‘So, who else do you have a rude nickname for?’ I tease. ‘Surely you’ve got a good one for Buzz.’

She chuckles and rests her cheek on my chest. ‘They’re not rude; they’re terms of endearment,’ she contends.

‘But I usually only nickname my dance students. Buzz, though, would be … hmm. If you take his unbearable personality out of the equation, I would go with … Fellini,’ she decides.

‘He thinks he’s changing the world of filmmaking with every shot. ’

A laugh pushes through my lips. ‘That or Flannel Moth. Tough call.’

‘Flannel moth?’ She gives me a quizzical glance.

With Evie still on my chest, I twist around to snatch my phone from the bedside table and bring up an image of a tiny caterpillar covered with a wild mane of reddish hair.

‘What the hell is that?’ Evie asks, squinting through her grin.

‘Duh, it’s Buzz.’

Her laugh is too cute. I slide my arms around her lower back, pulling her closer.

‘You know, I’m trying to decide whether or not your insect fascination is giving off serial killer vibes,’ she says.

I just smile at her. She leans down to kiss me, making me feel as if warm honey is trickling through my bloodstream. Her tongue seeks out mine, and I sit up on my elbows to deepen the kiss, chasing more of her. She breaks away with a heady sigh.

‘So, Buzz is Flannel Moth Fellini,’ Evie recaps, giving her head a little shake as if she’s coming out of a dream. ‘Who else, then—Austin? He’s so restless and fidgety. What about … Twitch?’

I should laugh at that bang-on nickname, but a sudden coldness clamps down on my spine, evaporating all the heat that was just racing through my body.

‘Sorry,’ Evie says, blinking at me with worried eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to bring him up.’

‘It’s okay.’ After a pause, I ask, ‘Have you heard from him over the past few days?’

She shakes her head. ‘Where is he? You still haven’t told me why he wasn’t at the party last night.’

I try to dislodge the lump in my larynx. ‘He’s at the Gold Coast. He flew there right after the showcase and hasn’t come back yet.’

‘Really?’

She gently shifts off my body as I nod, the temperature plummeting even lower now that she’s no longer lying on top of me.

‘He’s not talking to me at the moment, which is classic Austin,’ I say.

‘The guy never takes a breath until he’s pissed at me about something, then he goes to ground and ices me out.

’ It was the same when Nadia and I kissed—after an initial confrontation, he didn’t say a single word to me for five gruelling weeks.

Even when we were in LA, he gave me the cold shoulder whenever I struck up a short-term relationship with someone, like he was afraid he was being sidelined or something.

Out in public, he’s all charm and confidence—an actor through and through—but in private, he can be so withdrawn and insecure.

A little divot forms in Evie’s brow. ‘That sounds a little … I don’t know … immature?’

Her words hit the target dead centre. Saying that aloud just now, vocalising the fact that he won’t even speak to me, made me realise how childish and self-absorbed that behaviour is.

‘So, if you haven’t heard from him, that means he hasn’t apologised to you for telling the media who your father is,’ I guess, my jaw tightening.

‘No, he hasn’t.’ Evie glances down, her expression clouding. ‘This has nothing to do with that because it happened before the showcase, but—’ Her voice snags.

I shift to face her. ‘What is it?’

She clenches the sheet in her fist. ‘My father reached out to me.’

My mouth drops open. ‘Seriously?’

She nods. ‘He sent my mum an email out of the blue, and then he called, wanting to speak to me, but Mum hung up on him. After that, he got my email address from somewhere because he’s, you know, probably secretly running the US government, given how much influence he has.

’ Her fingers move to her mouth, and I take them and lace them through mine so she can’t chew on her nails.

‘What did the email say?’ I ask, hoping I’m not intruding.

‘At first, he just wanted to check he had the right address. I guess he was worried his personal stuff about me would fall into the wrong hands.’ Her head slumps.

‘I really thought about not replying, but I couldn’t help it.

After making him wait for a few days, I sent a message back saying it was me and asking why he was contacting me.

When he replied, he didn’t answer that question—he just asked if I would be interested in meeting him for lunch while he’s still in town.

I said I’d think about it. That’s as far as things got. ’

I give her hand a squeeze. ‘How do you feel about it now?’

She takes a moment to answer. ‘I shouldn’t feel anything.

Even anger would be more than he deserves.

Mum’s completely horrified; she doesn’t think I should go anywhere near him.

When I brought up the lunch, she got mad and accused me of disregarding how much she’s done for me by showing any interest in Gabriel at all.

Which, if I’m honest, pissed me off because, yes, she’s done a lot for me— a lot —but there have been so many times when I’ve felt like I’ve been the one taking care of her.

I think she’s forgotten that she’s living under my roof right now because she can’t afford to pay her own rent. ’

My lips tilt down. ‘She’s obviously been very hurt by your father, too. I’m sorry that she’s taking it out on you.’

Evie stares up at the stark white ceiling, saying nothing.

‘So, do you think you’ll go to the lunch?’ I ask.

A lost look crawls over her features. ‘I’m not sure. But why am I not sure? I should tell him to shove it.’

‘You’re trusting. I wouldn’t rush to change that if I were you. I don’t trust anyone, and all it does is make me feel more alone.’

Her eyes slide to mine, a whisper of a line creasing her brow. ‘You don’t even trust me?’

I don’t even trust myself, so I can’t give Evie the answer she obviously wants to that question. My silence sends her gaze skittering away and I glance down, sensing an uneasy shift in the air between us.

‘My father is a very powerful man,’ she eventually mumbles, ‘and I can only guess that he has an ego the size of a continent. I don’t want to dance the moment he decides to start pulling my strings.’

I turn to face her again. ‘Yeah. I get that.’

‘I also don’t think there would be anything wrong with turning my back on him the way he’s done to Mum and me since I was born, and just going on with my life without him in it.’

‘Of course, baby.’

The word slips past my lips like a caress, and Evie’s surprised eyes lift to mine. She doesn’t say anything; she just rests her cheek on the pillow and sets her gaze on me. My eyes refuse to part with hers.