Never Been Ready (Ready #2)(20)

I suddenly wondered what it would be like to watch Leah get ready for bed. She would probably be in that robe I'd seen her wear that first night when I came back to Richmond, and she'd stand in front of the mirror as she tenderly brushed her golden locks. I'd come up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, watching her sigh in pleasure from my touch.

"Hey, you still here?" Leah asked, taking me out of my weird fantasy.

I was brought back into the present where we were settling onto the couch at Clare and Logan's. Leah had just pulled out a movie and was about to hit Play.

"Yep, I'm all here." I flashed my award-winning smile, hoping my little checkout from reality would go unnoticed.

Where the hell did that come from? Maybe I was letting this friends-with-benefits thing go a little too far. I enjoyed spending time with Leah, and I actually considered her a friend now. The image I'd just had though went way beyond the level of friendship, and that was not okay. I needed to take it back a level —no more adventures like tonight. Things like this created feelings, and neither of us could risk that. Nope, back to just good clean sex. I was great at that. In fact, I excelled at it. It was everything else in a relationship that I sucked at.

We decided to watch a movie, The Princess Bride. Leah had chosen it when she found out I'd never seen it.

"How could you never have seen this movie, Declan? You're a self-declared movie expert! It's like the greatest movie ever created!" she had declared.

"The greatest? Really? What makes it so great?"

"It has everything —love, humor, mystery, honor, deceit, and a hot guy in a mask! What is there not to love?"

"All right, all right, put your damn movie on, woman!"

She'd laughed and we'd settled in to watch our movie. When the young kid from The Wonder Years appeared, I got really confused.

"Wait, is this a kid movie? Is there sex in this?"

She hit me on the arm and shushed me before telling me I was ruining it. I chuckled and found myself pulling her closer to me. We were lying together on the couch, watching the weirdest movie I'd ever seen. But she was right. It was good...in a strange eighties type of way.

When it finished, she looked up at me and asked, "So, what did you think, Hotshot?"

"Not half bad. I love watching older films even if they are from the eighties and include Rodents of Unusual Size, and terrible accents. Older movies are so different from the films we create today."

"How so?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"Well, the filming alone is different. So many movies are filmed by digital cameras nowadays. It creates a different look on the screen. The picture is clearer...more vivid, but I think you lose that original quality that only film could produce. It's like every time we take a leap forward, we always lose something from the past in the process."

"You know, I've never heard you talk about acting the way you talk about creating a film. Why do you do it? Act, I mean," she asked.

I puffed out a breath of air and fiddled with a strand of her hair. "I hate acting. I honestly do. If I could act and not have all the bullshit that went along with it, I might be able to enjoy it. But you can't have one without the other in Hollywood, and I'm just not built that way. When I started getting noticed, I thought it was nice. Women paid more attention to me, and I got into bars without any problem, but then the cameras would show up every time I tried to exit a club or restaurant. Out here, away from it all, I can almost start to feel normal again. But in L.A., the paparazzi are relentless. Some people are able to handle the constant attention, but I'm not one of them. I can't live my life in a f**king fishbowl."

"So, what's your escape plan?"

"This movie. They agreed to let me executive produce it if I would also star in it. I figured if I could get my name in as a producer, it would help build my credibility, and eventually, someone might sign me in some role that doesn't require being in front of the camera."

"Well, I hope it works out for you, Hotshot. Everyone deserves happiness, especially if that means doing the one thing you were put on this earth to do."

I smiled, silently thanking her, before saying, "And what about you? What were you put on this earth to do?"

"I don't know yet. I'm still figuring that out."

Chapter Six

~Leah~

The piles of dried leaves scattered all over the curb crunched under my tires as I pulled off the street. I looked out onto the disheveled yard. Mountains of acorns and twigs were scattered everywhere —reminders that winter was just around the corner. The grass was a mile high, and I knew my father probably hadn't stepped foot outside since the last time I'd visited. Or if he had, he had just been too drunk to notice his yard looked like a scene from The Addams Family.

I hated visiting my father. It was just one giant reminder of my childhood and how much it had utterly sucked. I was constantly being compared to a woman who he had both hated and loved with every fiber of his being. I was a never-ending reminder of the wife who had left him behind and the mother who hadn't wanted me. But it was Thanksgiving Day, and as much as I hated the man, he was my only family. Someone should check on him, and unfortunately, that someone was me. This was the part of my life I didn't share with most people. Not even Clare knew everything that went on in this house, and I intended to keep it that way.