He looks up at me suspiciously, then reaches out and takes my hand. His palms are a little too sweaty for it to feel romantic, exactly, but it does feel kind ofnice. His hands are soft and warm — and, okay,clammy— and he holds onto mine as if I’m the only thing keeping him afloat in a stormy sea. Under my t-shirt, my heart speeds up a little.
Oh, no you don’t, Lexie. You’re not going to fall for him, remember?
“Do you seriously think this is fun?” Jett asks, turning white as the carriage rocks slightly. “You don’t feel like you’re about to plunge to your death, say?”
“Nope,” I reply cheerfully, ignoring the treacherous beating of my stupid heart, which I’ll be having strong words with later. “I promise you, no one’s going to die. Not on my watch.”
“I’ll take your word for that too, then,” he mutters.
He continues to hold my hand all the way back down, and when we stand up to leave the carriage, and he finally lets me go, I have to remind myself that there’s absolutely no reason for me to feel disappointed. It would be stupid of me to think he might have continued to hold my hand after the ride stopped, and absolute madness for me to actuallywanthim to.
I am not stupid, and I’m definitely not mad. Which means that what I’m feeling right now can’t possibly be disappointment.
Can it?
* * *
By mutual agreement, we decided to leave the pier right after our un-fun ride on the Ferris wheel, and head back to the car for phase two of our “date”. By the time the long black limo starts to climb the hill that leads towards Griffith Observatory, the sun is low in the sky, and the city looks golden, spread out below us.
L.A. is an unfashionable city to like, let alone love. You’re supposed to hate the crowds, and the traffic and theexpenseof it all. To talk about the concrete jungle, and how everyone is fake, and the city has no soul. And some of that is true, obviously. Like the insane traffic, for instance, and how I could probably buy an actualcastleback home for what I’d pay for a modest bungalow over here.
But I still love it. I love the perma-sunshine and the beaches. The purple jacarandas and the palm trees that make everything look like a movie set. (And, well, themalls. Don’t look at me like that, we don’t have a whole lot of shopping opportunities in the Highlands, okay?) Most of all, though, I love the way the city looks from the hills at sunset, and I’m really hoping that Jett’s going to likethisview at least alittlemore than he did the one from the Ferris wheel.
Or to at least not hate it. That would be progress.
The parking lot at the observatory is full, but the place isn’t crowded the way the pier was, which allows Leroy and Evan to fall behind Jett and I, letting us walk on ahead as if we actuallywantto be together, as opposed to just playing a role so we can be spotted by the photographer Grace contacted this morning, who’s been shadowing us all day. So far, he’s still keeping discreetly out of sight, so he can get his exclusive without having to fight a dozen other paps for it, but I know he’s there, and the knowledge makes this whole experience even more surreal than it would be, anyway.
Which, let’s face it, wouldn’t be hard.
“Where to, then? Inside or out?”
Jett stops in front of the steps leading up to the building, and I look up at it, taking in the iconic domed roof that’s featured in too many movies to count. When I first came here, I felt like I was walking onto a film set, and although I’ve visited many times since, the feeling’s never really gone away.
The building itself is home to the planetarium, but it’s the view from the terraces behind it I’m really here for.
“Outside,” I answer Jett. “If that’s okay with you?”
He nods, and we turn and walk around the side of the building, to where the panorama of the city is waiting for us. The two bodyguards have dropped even further behind now, and although there are a few curious glances from some of our fellow tourists, most of them are too busy taking photos of each other to really notice us. I can almostfeelsome of the tension leave Jett’s body.
At the back of the building we find a quiet spot and lean against the wall, looking out. From here, you can see the Hollywood sign nestled into the cliffs, looking out over the endless grid of buildings, with their skyscraper centerpiece. We stand there silently for a minute, just soaking it all in. Or I do, anyway. Jett’s expression is as inscrutable as ever. He could be thinking about what he’s going to have for dinner, for all I know.
“So, if this is your idea of a perfect date,” he says, proving me wrong, “Does that mean you’ve already done that? Come here on a date, I mean?”
I freeze, still staring out at the view. If he was anyone else, I’d think he was trying to find out if I have a boyfriend. But he’s Jett Carter. He must know I don’t, or I wouldn’t have agreed to a fake relationship with him. And surely he wouldn’t care, even if I did?
“Nope,” I say lightly. “This is my first. You?”
“Me? God, no,” he says, shaking his head firmly. “I don’t really ‘do’ dates. It’s hard, what with… well, you know.”
He trails off, and I turn to look at him curiously.
“Yeah, I guess it must be hard getting to know someone when you’re constantly being watched,” I say.
Neither of us have mentioned it, but I’m still very conscious of the photographer who I know must be clicking away somewhere behind us. The thought makes me instantly suck my stomach in and pull my shoulders back. I turn back to the view, moving so stiffly I must look like a shop mannequin come to life.
It must be horrible having to live like this all the time.
“It’s not easy,” Jett confirms, his voice low. He’s leaning on the wall next to me, our shoulders almost touching. “And not just because everything’s always being documented by the press,” he adds. “It’s hard to know who’s being genuine with me, and who’s just in it for themselves, you know? To get famous by association or whatever. Get their photo on the Internet, and then sell their story. That happens a lot.”
