Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
And I had to admit, things had worked out pretty damn well for Kylie in the end. I didn’t see that kind of thing in the cards for me, though. For me, a happy ending was getting the hell out of here, booking a hotel nowhere near the trees, and finishing my screenplay.
After a couple seconds of silence, Kylie spoke up in a more hesitant voice. “I know you don’t know those guys, and I know this kind of thing makes you really uncomfortable, but it sounds like they really came through yesterday. I hate to think of what would’ve happened if they hadn’t come to get you.”
I hugged my knees to my chest, thinking about that. “Yeah, they were kind of amazing yesterday.” The more I thought about it, the more it was true. But still… as kind as rescuing a stranger was, that didn’t mean they were prepared to have me as a roommate. And I sure as hell wasn’t prepared to live with three strange men.
“Could you try to kind of… give them the benefit of the doubt?”
“It’s not like that,” I said, after some thought. “I’m not trying to think the worst of them—I just know I won’t ever be comfortable here with them.”
That seemed like a lame way to put it, but I didn’t know how else to explain it. I’d spent half my childhood on a set. My mom, the ultimate stage mother, had hired tutors, but I’d never had much chance to be around anyone but fellow actors.
Boys—and then later on, men—were a mystery to me. When the director started filming, they’d do their best to be macho, touching me, grabbing me roughly—even when the script didn’t call for it. There had been a few male actors that weren’t like that, but most of them were—on or off camera.
Growing up in front of the cameras had left me with a distrust of men in the industry. And my single mother’s history of bringing unsavory boyfriends into our lives had intensified that feeling.
And now I’d be staying with three men I didn’t know.
“Maybe you could forget they’re there,” Kylie suggested. “Pretend you’re at a hotel and there are other guests there and you see them at the continental breakfast and passing in the hallways. Stay in your room a lot, and don’t think about them.”
A mental image filled my head—that of the tall one wearing just a towel. I doubted I had the mental discipline to keep from thinking about that, though I sure as hell wanted to.
“Focus on your screenplay,” Kylie said, perhaps sensing my hesitancy. “Let work keep you busy.”
“My laptop’s back at the cabin.” And likely crushed, frozen, or buried.
“Crap,” Kylie said. “You can take notes on your phone. Or dictate into it.” She paused. “I know this is hard for you, but… maybe if you keep busy, it won’t be so bad. They’ll have to clear the roads eventually.”
“I know.” An unexpected tear trailed down my cheek. Most people thought I was a stuck-up bitch when I didn’t want to spend time with my male costars, but Kylie seemed to understand and not judge me. Plus, her idea was a good one.
“Thanks—for listening and for the suggestion. One way or another, I’ll focus on the screenplay.”
“And we’ll talk lots, okay? So, you don’t just have to talk to strangers. You can call anytime, and if I’m not in class, I’ll pick up. And if I am in class, call Alyssa.”
I cocked my head to the side. “She might be busy.”
“With work?”
“With her men. They’re still kind of in the honeymoon stage.” Just because I wasn’t comfortable with the opposite sex didn’t mean I wasn’t happy for my friends’ relationships.
“Oh, right. She does kind of seem preoccupied lately, but I’m so glad things worked out for her.”
“Me too.”
“They will for you, too,” Kylie assured me. “You’ll finish your screenplay, you’ll get someone to produce it, and I’ll be the first person in line to see it.”
“Thanks,” I said automatically, but that seemed rather unlikely for a first attempt at writing. But still, it was something to focus on. Something to work toward.
And maybe it was enough to get me through however long I’d be stuck here.
7
SIERRA
After the phone call—and, okay, a few minutes of feeling sorry for myself—I gave myself a pep talk. Kylie was right; I needed to focus on my writing. That was why I’d come out here. And as long as my new roommates weren’t axe murderers, I’d probably be okay.
Tentatively, I exited the bedroom. The living room was empty, thankfully. I glanced toward the back door, wondering where everyone was, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I spotted an axe propped up in a corner. Hopefully, that was for firewood.
I made a beeline for the bathroom, which I really needed to use. It was small but serviceable, with a shower but no tub. There was still a fresh pine scent in there, but I tried not to associate it with the man I’d seen earlier. He wasn’t the focus—my screenplay was.