HIS OFFER OF breakfast had been kind of a bluff, actually. He cooked for Elle and Sydney sometimes when they were there, but it wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to blurt it out. Grey had something of a stupefying effect on him. So far, avoiding her as much as possible had been the most surefire way to prevent him from doing anything rash—like barely stopping short of dropping to his knees and begging her not to walk out his front door. At least it was better than throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his bedroom like a caveman.
When he heard voices in the kitchen that morning, he’d thought about hiding in his room until they departed, but that seemed too childish, even for him. This was his house, after all. When he walked in to find her lounging in his kitchen, sunlight glinting off her hair, laughing with Lucas, something had shifted inside him. He was happy to see her there. He would’ve said anything to make her stay for even ten more minutes.
Ethan at least had the presence of mind to be a little embarrassed that he’d gone so far as to offer to break the contract. What would he have done if she’d said yes? As disquieting as her presence was, the prospect of the alternative was much worse. Thankfully, she had just laughed that smoky, bewitching laugh, gently teased him at his outburst, and planted herself back where she belonged.
Where she belonged.
Ethan didn’t give that thought time to settle before he pushed it out in favor of the task at hand: breakfast.
“Eggs? I can do scrambled, or…scrambled.”
Grey laughed again. “Slow down, I’m overwhelmed.” She popped off the stool and came up beside him, his skin prickling at her proximity. She smelled, like always, of flowers, but there was something else lingering underneath, warm and earthy and unmistakably Grey. She opened the pantry and pulled out a fresh loaf of sourdough bread. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about breakfast sandwiches ever since I saw this.”
She tossed it to him and he caught it.
“Sounds good to me.”
She went over to the fridge now, and he practically jumped out of her way to avoid grazing her forearm. She began pulling out ingredients and setting them on the counter.
“Hey!” He shooed her back to the other side of the island. “That’s my job.”
“Fine. Don’t forget the avocado.”
Twenty minutes later, they headed out to Ethan’s patio, overlooking the pool. Ethan carried the plates with the sandwiches, while Grey followed behind with coffee—iced for her, hot for him. They settled across from each other at the slate table, shaded by the jutting roof. Ethan had left the sandwiches open-faced, each one topped with a glistening fried egg. He’d insisted that Grey take the one he hadn’t accidentally broken while flipping, and as she pressed the other slice of toasted sourdough on top, the bright yellow yolk oozed over the sides.
“I think you nailed it,” she said, wrapping her hands around the sandwich, careful to steer clear of the dripping yolk.
“Taste it first. Looks can be deceiving.”
Grey lifted the sandwich to her mouth and bit into it. With the pressure of the bite, more egg yolk spurted out, dripping onto her fingers.
“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, dropping the sandwich back onto the plate and bringing her hand to her mouth. Seemingly without thinking, she dipped her slender fingers into her mouth, one at a time, closing her lips around them and sucking them clean.
Ethan gawked at her, his own sandwich untouched, halfway to his mouth. When she realized he was staring, she blushed, dropping her hand to her napkin to finish the job.
“Sorry. That was gross.”
Ethan swallowed, his mouth dry, words failing him. “Um. No. It’s fine. Not gross.” He took an enormous bite of his own sandwich to prevent him from saying anything else.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Grey put down her sandwich for a breather and leaned back in her chair, clasping her iced coffee in both hands and staring out at the pool.
“Did you hear anything about your big movie yet?” Ethan asked.
She turned to look back at him. “What? Oh. Not yet. I’m supposed to have a chemistry read in a week or two, Renata said I should hear any day now.”
“Do you have the pages?”
“Nah. You know how it is. Top secret. I don’t really get it—the book’s been out for, like, a year. How secret can it be?” She leaned over her plate to take another bite of her sandwich.
“If you need to run lines or anything, I can do it. When you get them, I mean.”
She looked at him with surprise. “Really?”
He shrugged. “Sure. That’s what this is all for, right? Your dream role? It’s the least I can do.”
Grey leaned back again, stretching her legs wide and sipping her iced coffee. She looked contemplative. “It’s not my dream role. I mean, getting it would be amazing. The part itself is kind of whatever, though.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So…what? It’s just about being part of the next big thing?” Maybe he’d read her wrong, after all. Maybe she was just in it for the fame for fame’s sake.
“Not like that. I’d never want to be you-famous. No offense.”
He laughed. “None taken. I wouldn’t want to be me-famous, either.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re all crying our eyes out for you,” she said with a sardonic grin, gesturing vaguely toward the house, the pool, the view. “I just want to get to the point where I have more…” She trailed off.
“Money? Cars? Awards? Instagram followers?” he rattled off.
“Control,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.
Ethan leaned back, too, running his fingers through his hair. “Control is a hard thing to come by in this business. Whenever you think you’ve gained some, it usually turns out you’ve just given it up from somewhere else.”
She turned and looked him in the eyes. “That’s deep,” she teased.
He laughed and gave a little half shrug. “Hey, that’s just my experience. Take it or leave it.”
“No, no, I know you’re right. I’ve just— Kamilah and I have been trying to get our stupid movie made forever. We did what you’re supposed to, got some money together and made our own little low-budget thing, did the festivals, won some awards—nothing. No one will produce it. I’d give up some control to have the power to make that happen.” She gestured at him. “I mean, I guess I already did.”
The reminder that she wasn’t sitting there with him by choice sent an odd twinge through him. He ignored it.
“What’s your movie?”
She shifted, bashful. “It’s based on this book, The Empty Chair. Do you know it?” He shook his head and she continued. “It’s this weird experimental horror novel from the twenties. Kind of like a Jazz Age Suspiria. Kamilah and I were obsessed with it in college.”
“You went to college?”
Grey seemed like she wasn’t sure if she should be offended. “Yeah, USC. Why, is that surprising?”
“No. Well, yes, sort of. You said you were a child star, so I just assumed. I mean, no judgment either way. I didn’t go.”
“?‘Star’ is pretty generous. And I didn’t finish. I booked my show the spring of my junior year. I tried to keep going part-time, but it was too much. I had to drop out.”
“Do you ever think about going back?”
She shook her head. “Not really. The degree was never that important to me. I wanted to broaden my horizons a little, see what else was out there for me besides acting. Turns out, not much.”
“But not nothing. You found that book. And your friend.”
She looked at him, as if appraising him for the first time. “Yeah. That’s true.” She paused, her gaze drifting away. When she spoke again, it seemed like she was talking to the pool, rather than to him.
“I didn’t even plan on majoring in film, I was just doing the gen ed thing at first. I was never really that into school; I missed a lot when I was working. I had no idea what I wanted to study. Intro to Film ended up being the only elective that fit into my schedule my first semester. That’s how I met Kamilah, actually. We had to do a group project for our final, and the two of us ended up doing all the work.”