Why Resist a Rebel - By Leah Ashton Page 0,58
visit to his mum, one battered leather notebook—and Dev was all better?
She didn’t believe it.
Something had changed, though. A switch flipped, a corner turned...something like that. Not once tonight had she glimpsed a bleakness in Dev. No more little moments where he’d leave her, leave whatever they’d been doing, and retreat to wherever it was where his sadness, his regret, his guilt and his doubts lay. A weight had lifted.
She was happy for him. Thrilled. For him. Watching him sleep like this—really sleep, a true, natural sleep—was kind of wonderful.
No, just straight wonderful. Now she knew what she’d seen before, that drugged nothingness masquerading as restfulness—and the difference was undeniable.
What confused her was how she felt.
She felt restless, and she fidgeted as she attempted to sleep, her legs tangling in the quilt.
Finally she gave in to the compulsion to move, and climbed out of bed, walking on silent feet out of the room to avoid disturbing Dev. In the kitchen she automatically poured herself a glass of water, but she didn’t drink it—just set it down on the granite bench top and walked away.
Her laptop sat on the dining-room table, from when she’d needed to make some changes to the script for Paul. She settled in front of it, flipping it open and blinking at the sudden brightness of the screen in the darkened room. She’d barely noticed the darkness, the moonlight flooding through the open kitchen blinds more than enough illumination for her to find her way.
She reopened an email that had arrived yesterday. A contact in London, who’d recommended her for a role. A great role, on a huge movie—big budget, already one confirmed big-name star.
She had to smile as she realised she was excited at the prospect of working with such a famous actress, given she had an even more famous star sleeping no more than ten metres from her right now.
Funny how quickly his job became irrelevant. At least—when they were together.
Other times, it seemed it was all he was. A movie star.
On set, or at Unit Base, that was who he was. Devlin Cooper, Hollywood star. Heartthrob. Sexiest man on earth. All those things.
But alone, particularly tonight, but at other times too—he was just Dev. Just a normal person. Far from perfect. The opposite of perfect, maybe.
That should be a good thing, right? That he was as normal as everybody else. As normal as her.
She sat back in her chair, stretching her legs out in front of her. It was cool, and her skin had goose pimpled where it wasn’t covered by the oversized T-shirt she wore. She should really go back to bed.
She let her eyes blur, so she couldn’t read the actual words of the email. But she knew them all, almost off by heart.
A request to send her CV. Such a simple thing. In this case, it was little more than going through the motions—if she wanted this job, it was hers.
And yet yesterday she hadn’t sent it. Not today yet either.
Her eyes flicked to the time on the microwave. Well. Now it was tomorrow, and still she’d done nothing.
Pre-production began in three weeks, after The Land wrapped. The perfect amount of time to get herself sorted, maybe book herself into a hotel room for a week somewhere fun in Europe—France maybe, or Croatia—before she needed to get to London. She even knew where she’d stay—a tiny shoebox of a room at a friend’s place that she rented whenever work took her to London.
It was beyond easy. Exactly what she wanted.
She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself, her chin propped where her knees touched. And just sat like that, thinking.
There was a noise, the sound of a tree branch scraping against the tin roof. It was loud in the silence, and her body jolted.
She was being ridiculous. What was she waiting for? For Dev?
Now there was a waste of time. He left in two weeks too, back to LA, a place where the unions could make it tricky for a foreigner to work—even if she was silly enough to daydream about things that would never happen. And that she didn’t want to happen anyway.
She loved her life; it was perfect as it was. Dev just didn’t fit.
And as if Dev would want her to fit into his life either.
If that thought rang a little hollow she ignored it.
Instead, she leant forward in her chair, and made the few clicks necessary to reply to the email and