Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet #2) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,35
in my contract like a ticking time bomb is messing with my head. It makes me not want to give anything less than a hundred percent, right out of the gate.”
Aloha pats my arm. “Don’t worry, Laila. Like you said, Nadine is thrilled with you and Savage. I’m probably just being paranoid. Nadine was the executive producer of The Engagement Experiment when it first launched, so I know for a fact she’s hard-wired to wring every drop of romance she can out of every situation, at full blast.”
“I’ll keep that in mind and maybe try to pace myself a little bit more, on-camera.”
“And also maybe try to keep your wits about you a tiny bit, off-camera, too?” She smiles. “Honey, I want you to be happy. And I want this thing with Savage to work out great for you. I’m just saying you cried a whole lot during that tour. And I don’t want that boy to make you cry again, this time around.”
I pat her arm. “I hear you and appreciate what you’re saying. But it’s going to be okay. Like I said, we’re both pretending the past doesn’t exist and taking each other as we are now. Trust me, that strategy absolves me of almost as many sins as Savage.”
Aloha looks at me for a very long moment with nothing but kindness in her eyes. “Well, that sounds like a great thing, then. I’m happy for you.”
“But you think I’m pulling a ‘Laila.’ Sprinting ahead with blinders on and ignoring every red flag.”
Aloha pauses. “No. I mean, yes. But I don’t blame you. What I think is that you’re a gorgeous, passionate, horny-ass woman who’s stuck for three months in the mansion from The Engagement Experiment with a rock star who regularly gives you multiple orgasms that make you scream in ecstasy. Frankly, I don’t think you’re pulling a ‘Laila’ this time, as much I think you’re pulling a ‘red-blooded human.’”
Thirteen
Laila
“Cheers!” I say, holding up a glass of champagne in one hand and my phone in video mode in the other. While recording a live video, Savage and I are sitting side by side on the couch in our living room, toasting our first day of shooting with a bottle of Dom Perignon sent home with us by Nadine. Despite the sobriety clause in Savage’s contract, Nadine gave us the bottle on two conditions. One, we had to promise we’d open the champagne in a live video tonight and joyfully toast on-camera to our first day as judges. And two, Savage had to promise no photos of his dick or bare ass would join his already robust collection on the internet.
“Cheers, baby,” Savage says, clinking my glass with his and kissing my cheek.
We sip our champagne and talk about the day’s shoot, telling everyone watching we can’t wait for them to see the amazing talent we witnessed today when the first episode airs in a few weeks. We trade playful banter about who’s going to wind up with the best team after Draft Day—the notorious day on Sing Your Heart Out when the judges haggle and jockey to wind up with the best contestants from those they’ve given a precious token. And, finally, we wrap up our video with a little kiss on the mouth and a joyful “See you next time!”
When I turn off my camera, I plop my phone onto the coffee table in front of us and exhale. “I think it’s distinctly possible by the end of the season, these daily videos will feel like a colossal pain in the ass.”
“By the end of the season?” Savage says, his expression making it clear he already feels that way.
A buzz simultaneously emanates from both our phones on the coffee table, and we grab them, curious to see who’s texted us. It’s Reed Rivers, telling us he wants us to write a “sappy, classic love song” as soon as possible—a single we’ll perform in the show’s finale and release that same day. Reed writes, “Send me the bones of the song within a week or so, to give us enough time to get it fully produced before the finale.”
I look up from my phone and wait a beat for Savage to finish reading. When he looks up, I say, “I think a week to write one song is doable. Do you?”
“In theory, yeah. But I’ve never written a ‘sappy, classic love song’ before. I’ve never even written a straight-up love song.”