He just nods and drives through the studio gates. I direct him to where my car is parked, and as I'm about to step out, he stops me.
"Soph," he says, his tone softening, "my house is literally right over there." He points toward Toluca Lake, the quiet neighborhood just past the studio.
"And you drive to work?" I tease, raising a brow, trying to deflect.
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Yes, I drive. And you're avoiding my offer.”
Am I avoiding it? Or am I avoiding the idea of being so close to him? The thought of staying at Grant's house—or his guest house—sends a shiver of something I can't quite name up my spine. Excitement? Nerves? Both? Would we talk? Would I see him in passing? Would hewantto see me?
"I can ask Blair and Wyatt if I can crash with them," I say, grasping for a safer alternative.
"You want to stay with a couple who are about to get married and just reconnected after twelve years apart?" His smirk tells me he knows exactly how terrible that idea is.
He's right. The last thing I need is to sit in the middle of Blair and Wyatt's rom-com montage.
"Are you sure?" I ask, needing to hear it again. I search his expression for any sign of reluctance.
"I'm sure, Sophia. You're welcome to stay as long as you need. There's food and toiletries already there, but I'll have the housekeeper stock up the kitchen. You'll be all set."
I hesitate, still watching him. There's no trace of pity in his voice, no sign that this is just an obligation. If anything, he seems…earnest, like he genuinely wants to help.
I nod slowly. "If you're sure?"
"I'm sure," he repeats firmly. "You can follow me home."
Home.There's something nice about how the word sounds coming from him. Warm. Solid. It stirs something in me.
I need to be careful. I'm an excellent actress, and sometimes, it's hard to separate reality from the roles I play. Acting. Delusion. Sometimes, they cross over and blur the lines.
"Ok, thanks, Grant. Give me a minute to run inside and grab some clothes from wardrobe. I'll be right out."
He nods, and as I climb out of his car, I feel his eyes on me—not in the way most people look at me, but in a way that makes me feel seen. I shiver again, this time from the chill in the air—and maybe a little from the warmth in his gaze.
ten
. . .
Grant
What the fuck?Why the hell would I put myself in this torture situation? I instantly regret offering her the guest house. What was I thinking?
It's fine. Once we find out what the damage and repairs are, she can figure out a longer-term solution. This is just a few days; it's not a big deal. Except it is a big deal.
Fuck. What am I going to tell Hazel? She already loves Sophia. I caught her binging her oldCode Crusadersepisodes the other night. Hazel's only met her one time, but I can tell she is going to be all over this. It will be hard to keep her away.
I don't love having my lives intermixing, and I'm not sure what came over me or why I would suggest my guest house. Something crunched in my chest when I saw Sophia standing in her house. The look of hopelessness, the look of sadness. My hero instincts kicked in, and all I wanted to do was wrap her up in my arms and tell her everything would be ok and Iwould take care of her. Apparently, that's exactly what I did. God dammit.
I don't like how she makes me feel. I don't like that she makes me question my loneliness. I've spent thirty-six years of my life just fine without needing anyone. And then I see her tears, and I abandon all logic and sense.
I got carried away when we met last year at thePink Slippremiere. I knew of her—hell, everyone in town knows of her—but I'd never met her in person. Blair introduced us, and I'd never seen anyone so beautiful before. Her skin is like porcelain, so soft and smooth and creamy. I've never had such an itch to touch someone's face before, but it's all I could think about. I wanted to brush my fingers across her cheek and then run them through that dark brown hair.
She hypnotizes you with those ice-blue eyes, and I assumed that her kindness and empathy were part of her brand, but I realized quickly that she had saved those bits for me. I'm not saying she was rude to anyone, but when we found ourselves abandoned by her brother, Wyatt, and Blair, I could see how she greeted others we ran into, and I could feel the difference in how we interacted versus how she interacts with the population at large. I felt something…special? I'm not sure what.
I begged Blair to go to lunch with me after that event so I could find out more about Sophia. Word on the street was Blair was out to sign her, and I'd always had a great working relationship with Blair and wanted to know more.
I won't lie and say that her personality or talent alone attracted me; she is undeniably gorgeous. Her beauty isuntouchable. No man alive deserves her. But I also wanted to see if it might be possible to work with her.
She was an Oscar-winning actress at the age of twenty-four and came straight from a kid's television network—not unheard of, but it's definitely unusual, which tells me she's got that special something. When Blair brought Sophia along for lunch, I spent the entire time talking with Sophia and felt bad that I didn't even ask Blair about one project she was working on.
