Page 25 of Romance Is Dead

I played our kiss on replay for the rest of the day.

After Natasha called Teddy back to set, I’d made a beeline for the hotel.

Motoring down the back roads, I’d cranked up the radio, desperate for a distraction — only for “Bohemian Rhapsody” to come galloping out of the speakers.

It took me right back to the night we’d questioned Scott in the props trailer, except this time, I knew exactly what it would have felt like to end that night with a kiss.

Pulling into a parking spot at the hotel, I remembered the way he’d murmured my name as we caught our breath.

As I retreated to my room and changed into sweats, I relived the precise way his thumb had traced my cheekbone, desperate yet tender.

And as I’d tried to distract myself by crocheting row after row of my blanket, I pictured the way he’d leaned in for one more before hurrying inside.

God, it’d been perfect. Better than I’d imagined. It had been knee-quaking, stomach-melting, toe-curlingly good.

Every time I replayed it in my mind, I imagined what could have happened if the kiss hadn’t been on the back porch, but somewhere private. If Teddy’s hand hadn’t stopped on my waistband, but dipped lower. If we’d been alone and I was able to have all of him and not just a taste.

But the fantasies eventually gave way to different images — memories of the last time I’d trusted an actor with my heart.

Memories of opening my phone to embarrassing photos, of tabloid headlines speculating on whether the paunch on my belly was a bad angle or pregnancy.

Phone calls from my dad asking if there was a wedding that I hadn’t told him about.

I couldn’t let myself go through that again, not when I’d dealt with the fallout of my failed movie just months ago. It didn’t matter how good the kiss was.

By the time a knock came at my door at precisely seven o’clock, my head was swimming from so much back and forth between blissful fantasies and traumatic memories.

I padded to the peephole, peering through.

It was Mara, holding what appeared to be a brown paper bag of takeout and an extra-large bottle of wine.

Shoot. I’d forgotten we’d made plans the night before — my penance for cutting our time at the bar short. This was going to significantly interfere with my intention to spend the evening hiding from the world.

Another insistent knock. “Come on,” she called out. “I’m starving.”

I swung the door open. “You didn’t have to bring food.”

“I know you haven’t eaten.” She pushed her way into the room. “So yes, I did.”

As the scent of fresh French fries permeated the room, I happily closed the door and followed Mara to the kitchenette.

Despite my plans to lie low for the evening, it wasn’t Mara I’d been trying to hide from.

Teddy had texted me as soon as he’d finished filming, suggesting we meet to rehearse later.

Panicking, I’d told him I was having dinner at my dad’s cabin, thereby banishing myself to my room for the night.

Knowing he was just down the hall, I couldn’t help but wonder what would be happening right now if I’d agreed.

“Today was interesting.” Mara started unpacking the bag, setting brown-paper-wrapped sandwiches and cardboard cones of fries on the table. “Are you ok?”

No, but she didn’t need to know that.

“What do you mean?” I asked, rustling through the cabinet for some plates.

Mara’s hand froze in mid-air, holding a dip container of garlic aioli. “Everyone thinking you spread the rumor about Trevor’s murder? Natasha putting the fear of God in everyone? The general air of doom and misery?”

“Oh! Yeah.” I’d been so wrapped up fantasizing about Teddy’s mouth that I’d forgotten about the drama du jour. “Yeah, it was a hard day.” I succeeded in finding the plates and grabbed some forks, hoping Mara wouldn’t notice my stumble.

She did. Of course she did.

“Hang on, what did you think I was talking about?”

My cheeks burned.

Mara tucked a fist onto her hip. “Quinnberly Marie.” She tried one of her fries. “Ugh, this is cold.” She moved toward the microwave.

The microwave that had our list of suspects resting on top of it.

“Wait!”

Mara quirked an eyebrow. “Do you not want me to warm up the fries? I mean, I know they’re not as good reheated, but. . .”

“Um.” My mind spun, trying to think of something — anything — that would get her away from seeing that list.

“Teddy kissed me today,” I finally blurted. I might not want to talk about it, but I wanted her discovering our investigation even less.

It worked.

Mara screeched at such a high decibel, I was sure someone would call the police, convinced another murder had taken place. Abandoning the French fries on the table, she dragged me over to the couch, plunking both of us down on the cushions.

“Oh my God, oh my God! You have to tell me everything.”

“Don’t get excited, it didn’t mean anything.” But as I detailed the whole thing, from our rehearsal the night before to him following me out onto the back porch, I couldn’t help the grin that grew wider and wider on my face.

“You guys are totally in love.”

“We’re definitely not in love. And it’s definitely not happening again.”

“And why not?” She looked offended at the mere suggestion.

“Be serious. Why would I want any ties to LA? I’m leaving. And even if I wasn’t, you know I don’t date actors. Look what’s happened to me in the past. Look what happened to you!”

At this, Mara looked down, picking at her fingernails.

I reached over and squeezed her knee. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

“It’s fine.”

“Are you ok?”

She shrugged. “I texted him to say I didn’t want my stuff back and he should pick it up off my porch. He never replied.”

“God, what an asshole.”

“Whatever. I’m feeling slightly less terrible every day.”

“Don’t you see my point? We’ve both seen firsthand why getting involved with actors is a terrible idea. Why would I put myself through that again?”

“You’re overthinking this.” Mara stood to pour some wine. “The fact that he’s a player could actually be an asset.”

“I have no idea where you’re going with this.”

“Think about it.” Getting excited, she handed me a glass and curled back up on the couch.

“Both of you are obviously attracted to one another, are only going to be here for a limited amount of time, and then you never see each other again. Sounds like a prime opportunity for a friends-with-benefits situation.”

I opened my mouth to counter, but she cut me off.

“I get why you don’t want something serious. But why not collect as many orgasms as possible before filming wraps? You know, gotta catch ’em all, like a way sexier game of Pokémon?”

I cocked an eyebrow, skeptical. “Does that ever work?”

“Absolutely. Just look at Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher.”

“That was a movie. And they ended up together at the end!”

Mara waved her hand in dismissal. “There’s no reason it couldn’t work.”

“Those sound like famous last words.”

“Trust me. Now let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Happy to change the subject, I dug into my turkey and avocado sandwich, fully intending not to follow her advice. Mara fell in love quicker than anyone I knew and I had a sneaking suspicion she was trying to cast me and Teddy in her own private rom-com.

But as the night wore on, my mind kept trailing back to the idea. If Teddy and I were both willing, and there was a built-in expiration date, would there be any harm in a little indulging?

Getting ready to go to set the next morning, I was thinking less about whether Teddy and I should kiss again, and more about how I was supposed to act when I saw him. Sweet? Flirty? Indifferent, like it hadn’t happened at all?

Yes, maybe that one.

As I gathered my wallet and got ready to leave, I noticed something lying on the floor in front of the door. I froze. How long had it been there? I wracked my brain, trying to remember Mara leaving the night before. No, it definitely hadn’t been there.

My stomach sinking, I picked it up. Sure enough, the size and shape of the envelope were all too familiar. I slipped a finger under the flap and pulled out the note inside:

You’ve been sneaking around, you’ve been playing the spy,

So now it’s time for you to say goodbye.

You’ve had your fun, but it’s no lie,

If you don’t quit, prepare to die.

Mouth dry, I dropped the paper like I’d been burned.

Whoever was behind these notes had probably heard the rumors yesterday and believed that I wasn’t just investigating, but also now telling others that a murder had been committed. And they’d be willing to kill me too if I didn’t shut up.

It should have scared me. It should have made me back off. But all it did was make me mad.

I glanced at the clock. I wasn’t due on set for an hour, but if I remembered the schedule correctly, Teddy was already there and preparing to shoot.

But he needed to know about this now. Pulling up his number on my phone, I quickly called him.

No answer. Either he was deliberately ignoring me or he was already filming.

Sending a text and dashing out the door, I prayed it was the latter.

I sped to base camp faster than was probably advisable.

Hopping out of my car and jogging toward set, I hoped I could find Teddy quickly.

It’s not that I thought he was actively spreading details of our investigation to anyone who would listen, but with him, you never really could tell.

I was rounding a row of trailers when something solid collided with my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

The solid something lifted his head, clearly as startled as I was.

It was Brent, who — dressed in basketball shorts, a tee, and sunglasses — was clearly just arriving too.

“Shit, sorry, my bad.” Seeing it was me, his tone changed. “Oh. It’s you.”

I bristled at the edge in his voice. “Yeah. Me.” I turned to walk away. I was in a hurry and Brent was clearly in a horrible mood.

“I know you were spreading rumors about me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the shit. You corner me at the bar to ask me about Trevor, and the next day people are saying I killed him just by coincidence?” His voice lowered to a mutter. “I’m not that dumb.”

“From what I heard, you were spreading those rumors yourself. Do you even remember that night? Exactly how many shots did you have?”

“Just lay off, ok? You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you do?”

“Trust me. When it comes to Trevor, you’ve got the wrong idea.”

My blood chilled and I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “What do you know? You can tell me — I swear I’m not the one spreading gossip.” He shook his head, but I continued to press. “We’re talking about someone’s life, Brent. If you don’t want to tell me, you should tell the police.”

“Just stop, ok? Mind your own business.”

“Whatever.” This was obviously going nowhere. I spun on my heel, intent on storming away.

Behind me, Brent’s voice called out. “They’re serious, you know. About what will happen if you don’t stop.”

My skin crawled as I continued on my mission to find Teddy.

I considered the possibility that Brent was lying.

He was obviously mad at me, thinking I’d been spreading rumors.

He could be trying to throw me off or scare me.

But I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that Brent was telling the truth.

And unless I was reading him completely wrong, he wasn’t angry that someone was on his trail.

He looked scared. Like he knew something he shouldn’t.

And how had he known that the killer had threatened me?