Page 4

CHAPTER

FOUR

ANNALISE

I ’m not a fan of sports, and I can’t say I’d recognize any of these guys if my life depended on it. I know they’re famous in their own right, but ice hockey is just not an area I’m familiar with.

The group of guys are nice. They seem surprised to see me or to even be here. I’m not sure they were really filled in on what this night would entail. I’m introduced to a lot of them right off the start. One in particular, I think he said his name is Miles, asks me all sorts of set-related questions. I don’t know if he really cares about the process of making a movie or if he’s just looking for a way to connect, but it’s nice.

The head of PR for the Cranes, Ms. Dreven, asks us to take our seats, informing us that our guests are arriving.

The team follows me to the line of long tables set up for the meet and greet. Folded name cards are placed along the edge of the tables, and I see my nameplate in the middle of the group. To my right, there’s a name I don’t recognize, so I can only assume it’s one of the hockey players. Then all the names to my left belong to the cast and crew of the movie.

The name beside me is Jaden Lewis, and I don’t know whether to feel intrigued or terrified when I see who this name belongs to. Out of all the hockey players, he is the one I’m most intimately acquainted with, as I had to wipe his spittle from my face. Obviously, he didn’t choke on purpose and project his saliva all over me for the fun of it. And admittedly, ick factor aside, it was a little amusing.

His big brown eyes dart toward me, and I can't tell what he’s feeling as he closes the distance between us. He’s tall and tan, with the perfect bone structure, a chiseled jaw, full lips, and that dark, disheveled hair that says “I wake up with hair this perfect.”

To his credit, I’m sure most women find him quite handsome. As far as conventional beauty standards go, I suppose he is, but he’s definitely not my type. Not that it matters. This is a charity event, not The Dating Game.

Jaden sits to my right. “I’m really sorry about earlier,” he says. “That was awful, and I’m quite sure I may have spit on you.” He scrunches up his nose and looks at me expectantly.

I nod. “Oh yeah, you definitely spit on me.”

“Seriously. Again, very sorry. That’s not how that was supposed to go.”

He reaches for one of the black permanent markers set on the table between us. His arm is covered with a sleeve of colorful tattoos. A quick glance shows me that both his arms are covered in ink that stops at his wrists. I wonder if his back and chest are covered. I steal a peek at his neck to see if remnants of tattoos are evident beneath his shirt collar.

What am I doing?

I plaster on a tight smile and avert my gaze, looking at the line of fans heading toward us.

Truthfully, I’m not a fan of tattoos anyway. Once again, not that it matters.

This is awkward, and I kind of wish I was sat next to that Miles guy. At least he and I would have something to talk about, seeing that I know nothing about hockey, and Miles seems to be the only one who knows anything about my line of work. But it’s fine, I guess. There won’t be much talking anyway with all the fans coming in.

“How what was supposed to go?” I question.

“Meeting you,” he says.

I retrieve a permanent marker and set it next to the tall pile of my photos on the table. The stack is quite thick and has me thinking that we might be here longer than two hours. “Oh, so you knew you were meeting me? Because I kind of felt like you were caught off guard.”

“Oh no, I was definitely caught off guard. I had no idea I’d be seeing you tonight, but I’ve always dreamed of meeting you. In fact, we actually have met.”

“We have?” I turn to look at him. Admittedly, I’m not always the best with names, but I have a memory for faces, and I swear I’ve never seen his before today.

“Yeah, almost every night in my dreams.” He gives me a wink.

“Oh no…” I sigh and hold my hand to my chest. “Please tell me you did not go there.”

He shakes his head, lowering his chin to his chest. “Why did I go there? I’m sorry. God, once again—not how this is supposed to go.” His voice is filled with frustration.

“So I’m assuming you know who I am?” I ask.

“Of course, I know who you are. Who doesn’t?” He chuckles. “I love movies, especially your movies,” he says.

“Uh-huh.” I press my lips together in a line and nod. I’m sure he’s a fan of my last movie.

As if reading my mind, he states, “I saw your last movie five times in the theater before it was available on the streaming services for purchase, which, of course, I did the second it was available.”

“I bet you did, and I’m sure I can guess what your favorite scene was, too,” I deadpan as I look around for Miranda. I need her to come up with a reason for me to be moved away from this guy. After the shitty day I had on set, I’m not in the mood to deal with him.

I’m pretty good at reading people, and I can tell that Jaden is decent. To most people, I’m sure he comes off as friendly, likable, handsome, and probably even funny. His vibe isn’t what I’m in the mood for tonight, and I can’t spend the evening forcing a smile in response to his idiotic conversation.

“No, actually, it wasn’t.” He surprises me.

“Then what scene was it?” Hope foolishly rises in my chest, and I wonder if he saw me for more than my body.

I know that modern conventions deem me as attractive. My appearance checks the boxes for what society feels is beautiful. I get that, and I’m not trying to throw myself a pity party… Oh, poor little pretty actress . But looks fade. They’re temporary. Not only that but they also don’t define character or talent. I want to stand out as someone who cares about others and is fiercely good at her craft. More than anything, I think my life has been a constant struggle to matter for something that matters.

“I’ll tell you, but not today.”

I furrow my brows. “Well, then you’ll never tell me because we only have today.”

The corners of his mouth tilt up into a grin. “See now, that is where I disagree. I just think this is much more suited to a second date kind of situation.”

I huff out a laugh. “Second date. What makes you think this is a first?”

“Well, maybe not this.” He motions to the room. “The first date will come after.”

I open my mouth to argue when a little girl steps in front of the table to speak to me. With that, my conversation with Jaden is put on hold.

The next two hours fly by, and I don’t have a moment between fans to speak to Jaden again, though I do find myself stealing glances at him. He’s just as busy as he signs one jersey after the next. True to her word, Ms. Dreven keeps the line running smoothly, and at the two-hour mark, it is void of people. It’s one of the best run signing events I’ve been to, and I’m relieved.

Our five o’clock call time will be here before I know it. Our director follows the suggested twelve-hour rule and gives us twelve hours of downtime after each day but not a second longer. Seeing that we ended filming today at five, we’ll be expected on set first thing in the morning.

I stand from the table.

“You ready to go?” Jaden asks.

“You’re not serious.”

“You tell me.”

“No, I have to be on set at five in the morning. It’s late, and I’m tired. It was a pleasure meeting you, Jaden, but I’m afraid this is where our story ends.”

He takes a step toward me, closing the gap between us. “I disagree, Annalise. I think this is where our story begins.”

He inches closer, and his proximity does something strange to me. My skin tingles, and my heart picks up its pace. I’d only have to lean in, and our bodies would connect. I can almost feel the heat emitting from him, though, I know I must be imagining it.

I freeze when he leans in, immobilized with panic. Only, he doesn’t come farther toward me. Instead, he reaches for a jersey folded on the table. When he’s retrieved it, he hands it to me.

“I have an early morning practice, too. Good things are worth the wait, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He smirks, takes a step back and turns away, leaving me with my mouth agape and at a loss for words. “Oh, Annalise,” he says over his shoulder. “I promise not to spit on you tomorrow. That is, not unless you beg me to.” With that, he follows the rest of the team out and leaves me clutching the jersey to my chest.

After he’s out of sight, I hold the jersey out in front of me. It has the number two on it and the last name of Lewis in big block letters across the top back. On the front corner in black marker, he’s written a note.

Anna,

Can’t wait two make you mine.

See you tomorrow.

J

Holding the jersey out in front of me, I read the note over and over. Okay, so the guy likes the number two, evident in the switch of spellings. I’m assuming that was intentional. Maybe that’s a hockey thing—to be obsessed with your jersey number?

See you tomorrow? What is he talking about? I never agreed to see him tomorrow. Yet this was written before he asked me out tonight. Is he cocky, confident, or just plain weird? I don’t know.

And surely, I’m not going out with him. Why would I? Right? No way.

Exiting the space, I retreat toward my trailer, all the while holding the number two jersey to my chest. I expect the evening and all the weirdness it entailed to fade, yet it doesn’t. It was a perfect storm of awkwardness, and then it was just over. I’m not sure what game Jaden is playing, but there is no room for a future between him and me, not even a brief one.

There’s just not.

Absolutely not.