Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(68)

Before I could laugh, his mouth was on mine. I closed my eyes. There was nothing to figure out. Things may have been muddled with my parents, with Remy, with Amanda, but in this aspect of my life, everything was perfectly clear. I didn’t need to sort anything out here. It was no mystery why I liked kissing Donavan Lake.

“By the way,” I said, pulling back and propping myself up on my elbow again. “I talked to Amanda.”

He matched my position, his brow immediately showing his worry. “And?”

“She’s denying everything. Says she has no clue how my zombie face got in her trailer.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I want to believe her. I like her. I’ve always liked her. She’s nice. She seemed sincere. But she’s an actress. That’s kind of her thing.”

“What’s her thing? Being sincere?” he asked.

“No, making people believe what she wants them to believe.”

“Is that your thing too?” he asked, running a finger down a vein on the back of my hand.

“No. I don’t think so. Not with you.”

His eyes softened, and he tugged on one of my curls.

“What about you? What’s your thing, Donavan Lake?”

“My thing?” His brown eyes held mine.

“Yes,” I said. “Your thing.”

“I’m kind of into you right now,” he said.

My heart skipped a beat. “I’m kind of into you, too.”

He jumped to his feet and began bouncing around me on the trampoline, causing me to catch some air. “What was the order of things we were going to do today?” he asked while bouncing. “Jump on a trampoline, pretend everything is fine, and . . . ?”

I squealed as a bounce sent me higher. “Make out with a boy I really like!” I yelled.

He fell forward, catching himself by his hands on either side of my head. “That sounds like the perfect day to me.”

I reached up and pulled him down to me. “Me too,” I said as our lips met.





Thirty-Three


That night my name was on the call sheet and my determination was strong. I was going to catch my saboteur in the act. I’d thought of a plan: I’d leave my phone and a couple prop pieces on the table in my trailer. Then I’d set up my laptop to record. I’d do this for several days if I had to.

The next morning, as I was getting ready to head out, my phone rang and Abby’s name flashed across the screen. I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Guess what?” she asked as a greeting.

“What?”

“I’m coming to see you this weekend. You get to show me around a set, I get to meet famous people. It will be awesome.”

I swallowed. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? I wanted to see her. So bad. I needed a friend right now. But the timing was off.

“You don’t want me to come?” she asked.

“Of course I do. It’s just . . .” I filled her in on everything that had been going on.

“Lacey! Why haven’t you called me? Talked to me?”

“I don’t know. It all just happened at once and I’ve been overwhelmed.”

“I am definitely coming this weekend. I can help you. I’ll be your spy or something.”

I laughed, but she was right. More eyes on set wouldn’t be a bad thing. “Okay. That would be great, actually. Oh, also, I need to introduce you to a boy I really like.”

“What!” she screamed so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “You like a boy?”

“I do.”

“Then I’m in,” she said. “Even more in than I was a minute ago.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” I said.

“Me too!”

We hung up, and I grabbed my toothbrush. My dad stopped in the open bathroom doorway.

“Who was that?” he asked, which didn’t sound at all like an apology. Not even close to one.

“My friend Abby from home. You don’t know her.”

“You’re still mad at me.”

“Dad, I’ll be eighteen in five months.”

“I know.”

I put my toothbrush down and faced him. “I know you worry about me. I know you wish I would never grow up. But what I’m doing makes me happy.”

“You’ve been happy this last week?”

Leah must’ve filled him in on everything. “So you’re saying every day of your life you’ve been happy at your job?”

He grimaced. “I wish you weren’t so good at arguments.”

“It’s a gift.”

“One that works against me.”

“Dad, don’t you see, this isn’t about you. It’s about me. It’s about my life, my future. It’s about what I want to do and how you’ve made me feel like you don’t care about that at all. Like you don’t care about me in the least.”

His face went slack. “Oh, Lacey. No. It’s that I care too much.”

“Too much to listen? Too much to pay attention or make me feel like you support me?”

“That’s how you’ve felt?”

“More than you know.”