Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(56)

“Because he didn’t say much.”

“What’s your spiel anyway?”

“My spiel?”

“You’re walking around with a notebook, saying, what? ‘Hey, I’m Donavan, tell me your life story and how that might relate to screwing over my friend.’”

“You know, that was my backup line. I decided to go with the more boring, ‘Hi, I’m doing a class project about moviemaking.’”

“Probably a good call. So they don’t find it weird when you then ask personal questions, like their marital status?”

“I don’t ask personal questions. They usually end up divulging personal stuff when I ask work-related questions. Like if I ask, are the long hours hard on family life? They either say, oh, I’m not married or no, not really, my wife works here too, so it’s not a strain.”

“That’s what Noah said?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m surprised he talked to you at all. Not sure if this is motive or helpful, but I think Noah hates me. I’ve always felt an impatient negative vibe from him.”

“I felt like he hated me too, so maybe it’s just his default.” He glanced over at me, and I realized how close we were, his face inches from mine. I didn’t move away, just met his eyes. He didn’t move away either. It would be wrong of me to close the space. To kiss him right now. So wrong. I was giving him up because I cared more about my career. I was selfish.

“You’re good at this,” I said before I talked myself into doing what I wanted to do.

“At what?”

“At investigative reporting. Maybe it’s in your future, after all.”

He laughed a little and shook his head. “No, I dread doing it.”

And yet, here he was doing it . . . for me.

“Who else?” I asked.

“Who else?” he asked.

“Who else made the notebook?”

He looked back down. “Oh, right. Did you know that Faith tried out for the movie?”

My mind went back to that video I’d watched in Amanda’s dressing room. “I did know that. I’d forgotten.” Could that be something? Was Faith jealous? “What else did you find out? Have you talked to Grant yet?”

“I haven’t talked to him yet.”

“When I saw you walking around the set he asked what you were doing. I told him you were interested in acting. Then he said that you could interview him.”

“How big of him.”

“It actually is kind of big of him. He’s a big deal, Donavan. It’s nice that he’d be willing to give you an interview.”

“Me? As in a nobody?”

“That’s not what I said.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I know you don’t think he’s a great actor and didn’t like his movies, but he doesn’t know you’re the viral-review guy, so if you’re scared that—”

“I’m not scared.”

“What is it, then?”

“I just don’t think it’s him. It would be a waste of time.”

“Really? What happened to everyone is a suspect?”

“I think he’s too prideful to think that you could screw up his career.”

“He’s not. In fact, one day he told me he didn’t want me to screw up his career.”

“Wow. Nice. Then I don’t think he has enough foresight to plan out something like this. To string together a bunch of mistakes that he hoped would be enough to get results.”

“You don’t think he’s smart enough? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Maybe.”

I shook my head. “Even if he’s not, he has his agent, who could easily be helping him.”

He nodded but didn’t look convinced.

A knock sounded at my door, and I backed up, putting some space between Donavan and me. “Come in!”

Aaron opened the door. “Hey,” he said. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m good.”

“I’m glad you’re back. Sorry for all the drama with the missing zombie face. I wish there was something I could’ve done.” It was so cute when he acted like a mini adult. Like he was somehow in charge of anything on set.

“There wasn’t anything you could have done. Thanks though.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks, Aaron.”

He smiled and left.

“Who was that?” Donavan asked.

“That is the director’s son and my biggest fan.”

Donavan raised his eyebrows. “Who has a huge crush on you?”

“No. He’s just nice.”

“What did he mean by missing zombie face?”

I lowered my brow and pointed at my cheek. “That section Leah always took off my face went missing sometime in the last two days— Wait, you didn’t know that?”

“How would I know that?”

“I guess I thought you heard somehow. . . . So you are helping me because of what I said at the restaurant about the article?” I felt my cheeks go pink but tried to pretend they weren’t.

He met my eyes. “Yes.”