Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(36)

She nodded slowly. “He’s just doing what he always does, what works for him. Once he realizes that he likes me, he won’t flirt with everyone else.”

“If you say so.”

“Have you thought of a brilliant plan yet?”

I hadn’t, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t. “Too bad it’s not you who’s kissing him on camera next week. I watched your videos. That would totally sway him.” I straightened up. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?” she asked.

“You’re going to kiss him under the pretense of giving me some pointers.”

She sat up. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

“I know!”

“You’ll suggest this practice session at some point? If I do, it will be obvious.”

“Yes, I will.”

“You’re the best.” She put her feet up on my coffee table. “How are things going with your boy?”

“He’s not my boy.”

There was a knock at the door. Speaking of Grand Central. “Come in!”

Donavan walked into the trailer, and my heart stuttered. Why did it do that? I scowled at the reaction.

“I see you’re so happy to see me,” he said.

“She’s so happy to see you,” Amanda said. “We were just talking about you and I was just leaving.” She turned toward me and wiggled her eyebrows. I shook my head with a laugh, and she left.

“I just came to bring you a fresh new homework packet,” Donavan said when the door was shut.

“Scarlett doesn’t do homework.”

“Lacey doesn’t either.”

“Funny.”

“Who is Scarlett?” He obviously didn’t remember my character’s name.

I held up the book in my hand.

“Oh, right.” He put the new packet on my table and turned to go. “So you’ll just text me a pic when you get some done, then?”

He was leaving? “You’re not going to do the math with me?”

He wrinkled his brow in confusion. “I thought . . .”

He needs to leave, Lacey. You need to work on being Scarlett. He is a distraction. “Will you do it in character with me?” I asked, ignoring my better judgment.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“You tutor me while in character. I do my assignments as Scarlett. It’s called method acting.”

“And who am I supposed to be?”

“His name is Benjamin. He’s a zombie hunter.”

“Is that who Grant James plays?”

I smirked. “Is that a problem?”

“I am probably equally as good an actor as Grant James.”

“So you have done some acting,” I said.

“No. I’ll be horrible.”

“Ouch, Mr. Reviewer. Pretty sure you’re already on Grant’s bad side. You don’t need to be walking around the studio bad-talking him.”

He looked repentant. “I’m sorry. That was in poor taste.”

I smiled. “I was teasing you.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure my trailer door was closed. “Sort of.”

“So you want me to sit here and pretend to kill you for the next hour?”

“No, he’s not trying to kill me, remember? He’s in love with me. Just basically say whatever you’re going to say, but in a British accent. I’ll figure out the rest.”

“You really do always try to get out of schoolwork.” He sat down on the couch.

I grabbed my packet and my book from the table and sat down next to him. “This is the opposite of that. This is a creative way of doing schoolwork. How is your British accent?”

“Horrible. Very, very horrible.”

“Hold on, before you start, let me . . .” I reached over and messed up his perfectly styled hair. He was cute—big brown eyes, nice lips, defined jaw. “There. Better. Oh wait. Can I just?” I pointed to his shirt.

“What?”

“Just the top button. Isn’t this choking you?” I unbuttoned the top one, then assessed the new look. Just those two changes made him look more relaxed, which was more him, I was learning. As much of a taskmaster as he was, he actually did have a pretty mellow personality. One that radiated calm. “This is what you choose to wear on a Wednesday?”

“I came straight from work.”

I cleared my throat. “Isn’t this work?”

“I am also a waiter.”

“Really?” I leaned over and smelled him. “You don’t even smell like food.”

“You are so weird.”

“Where do you work?”

“It’s this little family-owned restaurant by my house called Bella’s.”

“So wait, you’re a waiter and a tutor and you write reviews? When do you find the time to do your own homework?”

“I’m not really a tutor.”

I squinted my eyes. “Um . . . what do you call what we’re doing, then?”

“Well, I mean, I tutor you. But you’re the only one.”

“Oh.” I was even more confused now. “That’s why Taylor in the front office at your school had no idea what I was talking about when I said you tutored.”