JACKS

"Fuck fuck fuck!" I curse as I pace the floor of the dressing room.

"What?" Dré asks with a brow raised. "Are you worried about your 'back injury'?"

He snickers and gives me a wink, but I shoot back a glare.

"This is serious, Dré. What the hell did I just do?"

"You're kidding, right? You just kissed your dream girl, man," Dré says, rubbing his head with his hand. "I thought you'd be happy about this, not freaking out like you just ran over her cat."

Maybe I should be happy, but I can't help thinking that I've just ruined everything.

"Did you see her?"

"I saw you two kiss. It was hot, man—steamy as hell." He laughs and pretends to fan himself. "Thought we were gonna need to open the windows."

"I mean after. She looked like a deer in the headlights. I think I scared her off, Dré. She couldn't get away from me fast enough; practically ran to the dressing room when they said 'cut.'"

"You're overreacting, brother. She was probably just feeling a little nervous. Maybe she's realizing she has feelings for you."

"Or she's realizing she has feelings for him."

I sit down at the makeup counter, shutting my eyes and burying my head in my hands.

What if I made her uncomfortable? What if I misread the signals? What if she's choosing him and not me?

"You need to calm down, man," Dré says, patting me on the back. "Nobody watching that kiss saw a woman who has feelings for her fiancé, okay? What's really got you so upset about this?"

"Because I can't go back."

The words come out of my mouth before I can even process them.

"Go back?"

"Today, just the two of us pretending like we're together and touching and laughing... it felt so good. It felt real." I sigh and run my hands through my hair. "It felt like something clicked. Until today, I feel like maybe I could've walked away. I didn't know what it was like to be with her—to have her as mine. But now I do. It's different. I can't..."

"I know you really like her." He pulls up a chair next to me and sits down. "But she likes you too. It's obvious. Everyone in that studio out there saw it today."

"I just... I don't think I can handle it if she chooses him. It's gonna break me, man."

Something between us has shifted now. It's like she's always been on the other side of the glass. I could watch her, imagine what it would be like to be with her for real, but I couldn't touch her—can't reach her. But now, that glass between us has shattered.

I can't go back.

"If you can't handle losing her then, well..." He sighs and shakes his head. "Don't lose."

I laugh at his straightforward advice.

"I'm serious," he says with a slight smile. "You're Jackson Ford, aren't you? Sexiest motherfucker alive or whatever? As long as I've known you, you've always gotten what you wanted. Skye isn't any different. You'll rise to the challenge—you always do."

I shake my head and smile. Dré always makes everything sound so easy.

"And if I don't?" I ask.

"Then you'll write a really sad hit record and we'll sell ten million copies." He laughs and pats me on the back. "You can go on tour with Adele and make people cry."

SKYE

The phone rings on the other end as I wait for him to pick up.

"Greg Connors," he answers.

"Hey, Greg, it's me," I say, my voice shaking slightly.

What am I even going to say? I'm so not ready for this conversation.

"I'm sorry, who?"

"It's Skye."

"Oh uh... one second, Babe."

I hear a few men's voices chattering and after about thirty seconds he returns to the call.

"Hey," he says. "Sorry, I'm right in the middle of an appointment. Is everything okay?"

"Well, uh..."

I pause for a moment.

Is everything okay?

Well, let's see... I made out a little with Jackson Ford. And I think I have feelings for him. And my heart is beating eighty-bajillion beats per minute so I'm probably dying. But besides that, no, things are great.

"Is it urgent?" he asks. "Or can I call you back in twenty minutes?"

"You can call me back."

I sigh as he says a quick goodbye and hangs up.

Since shooting has wrapped, I change back into my clothes. After about 20 minutes of pacing, I sit down at the makeup table and begin staring at my reflection as though I'm interrogating it.

What the hell am I doing?

There's a hurricane of butterflies in my stomach and I feel the full weight of my feelings come flooding in. Whatever's happening between Jacks and I is real and I can't ignore it anymore.

I finally pick up my phone and dial.

"Hello?" Ollie answers.

"Hey, Ols!" I say with my best totally-not-freaking-out voice.

"Shit—what's wrong?"

"Why do you think something's wrong?"

"Because that's your 'I'm secretly freaking out' voice."

"Okay so the model for Jacks's video didn't show up today and I sort of... ended up in the video an-"

"What?!?" he shrieks. "Oh my god! Wait, why is that a bad thing?"

"Well, we... the thing is... so the director said we didn't have to kiss, but..."

A loud screech from the other end of the phone pierces my ear and I pull the speaking away until it stops.

"You kissed Jackson Ford?"

"I think... technically he kissed me."

"I knew it! I knew he liked you!"

Wait... what?

I try to wrap my head around what he just said.

Jackson Ford doesn't like me. That's not possible... is it?

"He doesn't... he... no..."

"Come on," he says. "The guy likes you."

"Do you even hear yourself? He's Jackson Ford, not some waiter at Olive Garden."

"First off, that waiter hella had the hots for you."

"They give everyone free breadsticks!"

"He gave you the extra buttery ones! Secondly, Jackson Ford is famous but that doesn't mean he's not a person. He can have a crush on a woman just as much as anyone."

"A woman, sure. Maybe a Brazilian supermodel. But me? No."

"You need to stop selling yourself short."

"It's not selling myself short to acknowledge I'm not a supermodel."

He huffs then takes a deep breath in.

"I know you, Skye. You're my best friend and we shared a womb, okay? You stayed with Eric in high school when he made out with that cheerleader. You tolerated all the crap that douche Markus put you through. You give people more benefit of the doubt than you should, because at the end of the day you think you don't deserve better. You think these dudes are blessing you with their precious time because you're not good enough for more. But screw that. Screw our asshole bio parents and all their bullshit. You are not baggage. People undervaluing you has nothing to do with your real value, sis. You wanna know who's at your level? A hot, successful music icon who's crazy about you. That's what you deserve."

Sometimes Ollie knows me too well.

"It's not just about me, okay? You haven't met this guy, Ols. He's stupidly good-looking, ridiculously charming, and super talented. When he smiles his teeth practically sparkle. It's almost offensive how perfect he is. And girls lose their freaking minds over him. I've nearly been trampled by rabid teens at least three times on this tour. He's on another level."

"It sounds like you like him."

"Of course I do."

Shit.

One of these days I'm going to figure out how to filter the words that come out of my mouth.

"Dude..." he says, pausing for a moment. "I can't believe you just admitted that."

The line is silent for a moment.

"What about you-know-who?" he asks.

Good question.

"I don't even know anymore. I called him about..." I stop to look at the time on my phone. "Forty minutes ago. He was supposed to call me back but hasn't."

"Are you going to tell Greg about the kiss?"

"I told him before that I was going to do the video; he said it was fine. I don't know if he'll feel differently but... I'm starting to think that he and I aren't working. I'll need to talk to him when we're back in LA next week and figure out if we still want to... I dunno."

I expect a response but the line is silent.

"No comment? No cheers? After all your rallying against Greg, I kind of expected you to say something here."

"Sorry, I was busy doing my happy dance."

"I'm not saying I'm breaking up with him, okay? I'm just saying that I need to rethink some things. I don't even-"

I hear someone clear their throat behind me and I turn to see Jacks standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and his brows raised.

Oh god. How much of that conversation did he hear?

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