CHAPTER 4
Brooke
I haven’t talked to Graham in a week. Maybe two. His graduation is in three or four weeks. I wonder if I should offer to attend. If he’d want me to. We’ve been friends for four years, and I’ve only interacted with his family a couple of times, when I was in New York. His sisters were kind of snotty. One works on Wall Street, and the other is a classical musician of some sort—a violinist or something else with strings… She plays in the Philharmonic. Or is it the New York Symphony? Same difference.
I just got word from my manager that there’s going to be a photo shoot for People next week, here in LA. Graham has to come for that. He’s the best-looking guy in the cast, which people might not know if they only see the movie—his character is a flaming nerd. Nothing like the real Graham. Well, I take that back. Graham can be nerdy, but it’s endearing, in that he-still-seems-innocent sort of way. Until you get a load of those gorgeous brown eyes staring into yours and you forget what you were just thinking. Because those eyes are not innocent.
Shit. Shake it off, Brooke.
Me: Hey handsome. Heard about the photo shoot next week?
Graham: Yeah, just heard from emma, and then my agent called and told me.
Me: I didn’t know you were still in contact with emma.
Son. Of. A. Bitch. He’s talking to Emma? When the hell did that happen? I’d hoped he’d gotten that little thing he had for her out of his system months ago. He hasn’t mentioned a damned thing about her lately. Plus, there have been intermittent rumors about Emma and Reid hooking up ever since we quit filming, though I suspect that’s all crap—none of them included any new photos.
Graham: I ran into her yesterday
Me: Ran into her, like in nyc?
Graham: Yeah. I had cara with me.
Me: Oh shit. Did she suspect?
Graham: I told her. Well actually cara told her, by calling me daddy.
My brain feels like it’s on speed. He ran into Emma. In New York. When does that ever happen? Okay, time to reassess. Emma finding out about Cara could be a good thing—just another wall between them—her on one side, me on the other. With him. I understand Graham in a way no one else can. I’ve been patient, waiting for him to see what could be between us, and he’s been playing typical clueless guy. Time to step it up. I am not letting Emma back in there.
Me: Wow, how did that go?
Graham: Pretty well, actually.
I wait for more and of course there’s nothing, because in addition to the tall, dark and hot thing Graham’s got going on, he’s also infuriatingly close-mouthed. About everything. I’ve had dozens of conversations with him where I feel like we really communicated. Then later, I realize that nearly everything he contributed was a question or an observation on something I said. That he’d not actually revealed much, if anything.
Like I said—infuriating. And so frustrating. In that mouth-watering sort of way.
Me: I guess I’ll see you in less than two weeks, then <3
Graham: Cool, see you then.
Decisions, decisions. How to handle this little glitch…
Two things stood between Graham and Emma getting together during the months on location: Reid’s all-out pursuit of her, and my pretense that something was going on between Graham and me. Graham and Emma are similar in one glaring way—neither of them will stage a shit-fit throw-down territory dispute.
When Reid kissed Emma during that concert, it was like a freaking miracle. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Hell yes it is. It wasn’t like I set out to hurt Graham. I mean, Emma and Reid were kissing—that was a fact. I was just being protective, sending him that picture. So he’d know what was going on. I couldn’t have asked for a better response. He didn’t say another word about her. Before, he’d driven me up the wall with occasional tidbits of Emma-related nonsense.
Convincing Emma that Graham and I had a thing going was relatively easy. He and I have been friends for so long, and I was in such a state at having to work around Reid after not laying eyes on him in person for years. All I had to do was play up the I’m so fragile act a bit, and the whole freaking cast thought Graham and I were screwing each other.
I wish.
Graham made it obvious from the start of our relationship that we could be friends, but he wasn’t interested in anything more. I’ve never been sure why that was. At first, I think he just noticed the desperate way I felt about everything. Right after Reid broke up with me, I was raw. I was needy. I was pissed as hell. I would conclude that all that stuff scared Graham, but I don’t think that’s true or he wouldn’t have become my friend. It was like he saw my damage and knew instinctively to avoid getting tangled up in it.
But I’m better now. I know what I want. And what I want is Graham.
*** *** ***
REID
Brooke: Hey a*shole, we need to chat
Me: Aww, how could i ignore such a sweet appeal? What do you want.
Brooke: I have a proposition. Come over.
Me: Not interested. But thanks for thinking of me.
Brooke: NOT that kind of proposition, you freak. This has to do with Emma.
Me: I’m both intrigued and suspicious.
Brooke: Trust me, what i have in mind will benefit us both.
Me: No way in hell i trust you. But i’m too curious for my own good.
“You’ve got five minutes to convince me to listen to anything further, so spill it.” When she opens the door, I walk in talking. Her apartment is stunning, second only to her. She’s wearing tiny white shorts and a violet halter tank, showcasing her warm skin and sleek blonde hair. My intent is to avoid staring at her directly as much as possible. She’s like Medusa—the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on, and also the most personally dangerous.
I’m a little afraid that she’d kill me if she thought she could get away with it.
I walk into her monochromatic living room, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view to die for, and drop onto her white leather sofa, letting my head fall back and staring at the ceiling. So far, so not dead. She sits across from me in a black club chair, crossing her perfectly toned legs but not speaking. If she thinks I’m dragging whatever this is out of her, she can think again.
Finally, she sighs. “I assume that if you thought you could have another shot at Emma, you’d take it?”
What the hell? “Not really your business, Brooke.” I’m still staring straight up, counting the tiny lights in the track lighting while wondering what scheme has lodged itself in her head.
“Come on, Reid, it’s not like it’s a state secret.”
I chance looking at her. Her expression is serious, almost fierce. There’s definitely something she wants from me—and me only—because if she could get this from anyone else, there’s no way I’d be sitting here now. Playing along is the only way I’ll find out what this is about. “Okay, I’ll bite. Sure, I’d take another shot if I had it. Your turn.”
The only thing that betrays her is one finger, repeatedly scratching at the seam of her chair. She sits up. “I want Graham.”
I laugh. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Fixing me with a mocking smile, she says, “Well apparently, they want each other.”
“What?” I knew it. I knew it.
She laughs, not humored. “He’s… reserved. It’s hard to tell what—or who—he wants. But they ran into each other in New York a few days ago—where she’s looking to go to school next fall and where he lives. Just the fact that he mentioned their little meet-up is enough to ring my alarm bells.”
I sit up, too, leaning my forearms on my knees. I still don’t fully comprehend what she has in mind, but I’m starting to get an idea of it. “If they decide to hook up, what are we supposed to do about it? Maybe you’re forgetting that thanks to you, Emma dumped me. She didn’t choose some other guy over me. She chose to be alone rather than be with me. You set that whole shit up, Brooke. I don’t know what you told her—”
“I didn’t tell her anything. She was in the bathroom stall.”
The silence is profound after she says this. She’s actually managed to shock me. Emma didn’t just get a second-hand account of what went down between Brooke and me, she heard the entire sordid conversation, along with all of the hostility I obviously still felt over Brooke’s betrayal years ago. I’d thought, before that night, that I was solidly recovered. Wrong.
Little wonder Emma disappeared that night. I slump back into the sofa. “Holy shit, Brooke. How could you do that? You, and you alone, are responsible for both of them knowing about that pregnancy. And that I bailed on you. But do they both know you were cheating on me? Do they know that f*cking part of the story?”
She sits back, staring out the window for several minutes with her chin in her hand. “I didn’t.”
I stand up. This is bullshit. “I don’t know what kind of fantasy land you live in, where you can get two people to just forget the extremely dysfunctional shit they know about both of us—again, thanks to you—and fall into our arms. I don’t see it happening. If I’d known Emma overheard us that night—” I run a hand through my hair. I’m so pissed I want to smash my foot through her chrome and glass table or throw something across the room. “If I’d known she heard that conversation, I’d have given her the chance to calm down instead of being a complete dickwad and literally screwing the first girl who bumped into me.”
Brooke is silent, frowning and still staring out the window. “I can change her mind.” Her words are soft, spoken into her hand.
“How? Why would she listen to you—because she trusts you so much? She’s not that stupid,” I sneer, still standing.
Her eyes flash to me. “Wanna bet?”
I’ve thought about Emma several times in the past month, ever since my spontaneous apology that night in my hotel room. The one she rejected, soundly. The thing is—I don’t know if I’d have been willing, or able, to actually change for her. The only change I had in mind was attempting a monogamous hookup, for however long it lasted. I’m standing across from the only other girl who’s ever gotten that out of me. But Brooke and Emma are night and day, so it seemed likely that the outcome would be different with Emma. Not that she gave me the chance to find out.
I sit back down. “Let me get this straight—you’re proposing that we work together to either break up, or stop from forming, a relationship between Graham and Emma. And moreover, that we manage to seduce them for ourselves.”
Her chin comes up. “Yes. Are you in or not?”
We’re staring at each other across the expanse of glass table, the room impossibly bright. I can see every sliver of ice blue in her eyes, every perfect highlight altering her natural honey blonde hair to a streaked blonde not found in nature. Her nose, too, is a little more perfect than it was when we were younger, her brows flawlessly shaped and raised in silent question, waiting for my answer.
I nod once. “I’m in.”