over my cheek. “Wow. Well … it sounds like you already might be that guy. Don’t you think?”
My heart pounded hard. Yeah. I did think.
She squeezed my shoulder and gave me a tight smile. “You wait until she’s eighteen.”
I nodded, already willing nine months to fly by at the speed of light.
We fell into silence as we made fajitas, both lost in our own thoughts. But it occurred to me as Skye stood grating cheese and I stirred the chicken, spices, and peppers in the pan, that Skye was here at an odd time of day for her. “What are you doing home?”
“We finished filming the season finale at 4.00 a.m. I needed some sleep, so I came home for a nap. I fly out to New York for the Benson film the morning after your birthday.”
It was still so surreal to see Skye in magazines and in photographs online. The Sorcerer had provided her with a certain level of fame, and now that she was getting secondary roles in big movies, it might not be long before she got starring roles. Once that happened, I couldn’t imagine our lives would ever be the same. Not that they were normal now. There was nothing normal about seeing bikini shots of your big sister as the home screen on a teammate’s phone.
The guys were annoyingly excited about the fact that Skye and her friends would be at the party tomorrow night.
“Patricia told me there’s a small role in The Sorcerer she thinks Jane should audition for.”
My heart faltered. “No.” I cut my sister a dark look. “They just want her because she’s beautiful. Which is exploitation, FYI.”
She sighed. “They just want to see if she can act. She has the face for camera. And although I’m not sure I want her in this life, it should be up to Jane.”
Sometimes I wondered if my sister even enjoyed acting or if she only did it for the money. There were times I caught a flicker of darkness in her eyes that I didn’t like. But anytime I tried to talk to her about it, she shut me down. “No,” I repeated. There would be no bikini shots of Jane on my teammates’ phones.
“It’s not up to you, Jamie. You’re not her keeper, and I hope you won’t act like that if you two start seeing each other.”
I curled my lip in annoyance and tried not to say something I’d regret. Then I remembered who we were talking about. “Jane hates acting. She’ll never go for it.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
But I would worry because Jane would do almost anything to make Skye happy. “Just don’t sell it as if it’s something you want.”
My big sister understood. “I won’t. I promise.”
Jane would say no.
I closed my eyes.
Fuck.
I’d never been a possessive guy … until now.
And I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with the depth of my feelings for Jane Doe.
However, I also knew I no longer had a choice in the matter.
5
JANE
Seventeen years old
It seemed wrong to feel butterflies of excitement in my belly instead of the ones of dread I’d felt for the last eleven days.
However, yesterday, Jamie had successfully distracted me from my discomfort at school these days. He’d comforted me, held me, and he’d stared at me like he wanted me.
I’d had enough boys look at me with that heat in their eyes to recognize it when I saw it.
I just never thought I’d see it from Jamie.
And he’d flirted with me, hadn’t he?
Lorna’s rule from long ago about not crushing on her brother niggled at me. I didn’t want to cause problems between us, but no one made me feel alive like Jamie McKenna did, and I couldn’t ignore that. When he specifically asked if I’d be at his party, it felt like a different kind of invitation.
Something was changing between us, and I hoped that this party would be the start of it.
Dealing with Lorna would be worth it, if it meant I got to be with Jamie.
Music thudded from behind their door as I followed guests I didn’t recognize up the walk to their porch. Two big guys—hired security—stood at the door with a guest list. I relaxed a little, seeing them there. Sometimes I worried Skye didn’t take her own security seriously enough. Perhaps because there were other cast members invited to Jamie’s party, she’d decided to be cautious, for once.
The guy with the clipboard barely looked at me when I approached. “Name?”