Stars in Your Eyes(29)
No one’s ever looked at me like that before. I freeze for a second, my head as empty as my expression. I forget, for that split second, that it’s only an act.
His smile fades with the tilt of his head. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I take a sip of my coffee. “We probably got the shot.”
He squeezes my hand and lets go, pretending that he needed his hand to pull out his phone. By the time we make it to the edge of set, to the driver waiting to take us back to the hotel, photos of us holding hands are already making the rounds on social. On the elevator, Matt asks me if I want to come over to his room. Dave already gave us the joint statement he wants us to make, but Matt suggests we take it a step further.
“My little sister is obsessed with celebrities who end up together,” he says, “and she always shows me these selfies they take with their official announcements. Maybe it could be a good idea if we do one.”
Usually shit like this is planned by PR—all the “natural” social media posts and selfies are scheduled, photos edited in advance and posted to Insta by some assistant. If we weren’t so worried about a leak, we probably would’ve scheduled a photoshoot and invited TMZ. But Mattie’s too fucking innocent to know the way this industry really works, and I’m not in the mood to taint him. “Yeah. Sure.”
Nothing’s changed in his hotel room since the last time I came over. No piles of clothes and forgotten candy wrappers and empty plates from in-room dining. He’s self-conscious as he grabs his phone. “I don’t think we need to be kissing or anything cheesy like that.” He fiddles with his phone a little longer than necessary at the suggestion. I decide to let that one slide.
We snap a picture. I have my typical expression: intense gaze, touch of a smirk, like this is all a big fucking joke, which it is. Matt’s grin brightens the entire picture. When people see it, they’ll probably worry for Mattie. He looks too pure, too na?ve, to be dating someone like me. He sets up his laptop, sending the photo to himself, and types out the statement from Dave, printed out on a paper along with the old schedule. I get Dave and Reynolds’s fear about a leak if we trust this kind of thing to the publicity team—more mouths usually mean more gossip—but the amount of work that falls on us is a pain in the ass. Not that I’m actually doing anything. Since I don’t have any socials, it’s Matt’s responsibility now.
As some of you have already figured out, Logan and I have started seeing each other, and we are excited to announce that we are officially partners. I’ll be the first to admit that it was a pretty rough start between us, but spending time together on and off set has given me a chance to meet a different version of Logan that he rarely shows anyone else. I’m excited and honored that he’s chosen to give me a chance, and I can’t wait to see where our new relationship takes us.
God, Dave, can you be any cornier? But that’s the point of all of this. Give the people what they want. When Matt posts the message, his socials explode. His phone starts to ring. He groans and rubs a hand through his hair.
“It’s my sister,” he tells me.
“I can leave, if you want to answer it.”
“No, it’s all right. I’ll call her back later.” He sends her to voicemail and closes the laptop.
“Don’t you want to see what everyone’s saying?”
“Not really. It doesn’t matter anyway, right? It doesn’t change what we’ve got to do.” He leans back in his seat, but I think he’s putting on a show of looking comfortable more than anything. “Do you ever feel…I don’t know, guilty?”
“About lying to people?” I snort. “No, I don’t. Half of the industry is lying. People only care if they’re making money.”
“I don’t know if I want to be that way, too.”
“Then you should find a different industry.” He frowns. Maybe I’m being a little short with him. I try again. “This is innocent in comparison to half of the shit people pull, you know? Don’t worry about it. You haven’t sold your soul just yet.”
Matt seems to consider this for a second, before he says, “Sorry, I should’ve asked. Do you want something to drink?”
“Still only have water?”
“Yep.”
Unsurprising. I sigh. “Sure.”
He fiddles around in the kitchenette area before he comes back over, offering me a glass. He sips from his own and pulls at the end of his shirt.
“I’m glad we’ve gotten to a better place,” he says. “It’s never a lot of fun, working with someone you don’t get along with.”
Are we in a better place? I glance up at him. The smile he offers me. It reminds me of the way he looked at me outside the coffee shop, when we were holding hands. The way he started looking at me as we sat together over tacos. That’s the kind of smile that’s reserved for people you care about. For friends and family and people you love. Matt and I aren’t any of the above. He shouldn’t be smiling at me like that.
He’s probably mixing up reality with this act. That happens a lot. It’s the reason so many actors fall in love on set and then break up the second filming is done. He’s becoming too comfortable. Deciding that he cares about me when he doesn’t even know me. So, what? He figured out I like to be an asshole on purpose, and suddenly he’s my friend now? If he knew the real me, he’d leave me in a heartbeat.