You Had Me at Hola(64)

She knew it was a bad idea, but she retrieved the offending copy of Buzz Weekly from the garbage can and opened it to the article. Might as well know what was being said about her.

Despite the sensational headline, Kitty Sanchez had actually included information about Latinx in the Arts, along with quotes from Nino’s and Lily’s interviews and a group photo of all of them with a reminder to watch Carmen in Charge when it hit ScreenFlix. Unfortunately, the positive press was sandwiched between wild speculation about Jasmine’s relationship with Ashton and how McIntyre played into it.

The photos themselves were mostly pretty benign. The article included another one of her with McIntyre, plus a different posed photo with Ashton. There was also a candid photo of them from the Latinx in the Arts Summit, but since Jasmine hadn’t spent a second alone with Ashton while they were there, the picture must have involved some creative cropping to remove the others.

The grocery store photo, though . . . that was damning.

And fucking annoying, since it had been taken before they’d started sleeping together.

Jasmine left the magazine on the sofa and got up to make a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would jump-start her brain so she could wrap her head around what was happening here.

Because as much as she loved being with Ashton, she had to admit she was way off track with her plan. And this article? It was going to throw him into a tailspin.

Not that she blamed him. Ashton already struggled to let her in when it was just the two of them. Now, everyone’s eyes would be on them. She wouldn’t be surprised if the crowd of paparazzi outside the studio had doubled since Buzz Weekly hit newsstands that morning. Shit, they’d probably be around the hotel too. The Hutton Court staff and the local NYPD precinct were well-versed in keeping photographers and celebrity spotters away from the hotel entrance, but once the paps found out the photo was taken at the local grocery store, they’d be sniffing around the whole neighborhood.

Jasmine pressed her face into her hands, indulging in a moment of despair. She had a strong feeling she knew how Ashton was going to react to all of this—he was going to pull away from her again, like he’d done at the beginning. And it was going to hurt. A lot. More than before, because now she’d know what she was missing.

She’d miss his jokes and the questions he asked her about herself, as if the answer to each one was the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe. She’d miss the way he held her close as she fell asleep. The way he kissed her and touched her, as if she were a treasure to be adored.

She’d miss the way he said her name, like she was someone who mattered.

The single-cup coffee maker sputtered and filled her travel mug with Café Bustelo, thanks to the pods Ashton had gifted her. Jasmine checked her face in the mirror and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t sit around all day moping. They still had scenes to shoot, and damage control interviews to fit in.

And then there’d only be one thing left to do. She would have to distance herself from him first. Just the thought of it made her feel sick with stress, like her stomach was full of snakes. It was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, but if she was right, he was going to go back to being the old closed-off version of himself anyway. For the sake of his own comfort, she’d give him space, and in doing so, she’d give her Leading Lady Plan another chance.

Time to get to work.

After ripping the magazine in half and tossing it back in the garbage, she headed to hair and makeup.

Her stylists were her ride-or-dies on set. Every morning after she arrived, Jasmine sat with them for hours while they worked their magic on her hair and face. Ashton usually had a slightly later call time than she did, since he required less beautification.

Today, Jasmine could sense her friends in hair and makeup were bursting with curiosity, but thankfully, no one asked her outright, “Are you and Ashton . . . ?” And since no one asked, Jasmine didn’t have to lie.

When it was time to film the interviews, Tanya had negotiated every aspect in advance, so all Jasmine and Ashton had to do was smile charmingly and repeat, “No, we’re just really good friends,” in twelve different ways. It was hard to pretend he meant nothing to her, but they were actors. It was just like playing any other role.

Or so she kept telling herself.

After the last interview, Tanya pulled them aside to debrief. “I think that went pretty well, don’t you?”

Jasmine smiled, even though her heart was a shattered shell inside her chest. “Absolutely.”

Ashton grimaced, and Jasmine was pretty sure he’d been screaming internally for the past forty-five minutes. The final reporter had asked a ton of questions, and while Jasmine had tried to field most of them, many had been aimed directly at Ashton.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Tanya said. “Romance rumors pop up on every show. This should satisfy their cravings, and hopefully they’ll drop the story soon and focus on the whole show.”

“Let’s hope,” Ashton muttered darkly.

Tanya patted his shoulder. “Get some rest, you two. It’s been a big day.”

After Tanya left, Jasmine turned to Ashton. Better to get this over with.

He surprised her by speaking first. “So, this week . . .”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I won’t be around,” he said, not looking at her. “I’m going to be at a music studio for the next few days, recording Victor’s songs, and in the evenings they want to get B-roll footage of me singing in a few clubs—”