Haze - By Andrea Wolfe Page 0,80

what? You're an actor and some actors do that. You did it for your art, whether the final picture was cheesy or not."

I started to think about what he had told me, about not telling anyone the full story about his traumatic past. I wasn't going to bring it up, either. His relationship with Stacy had been very different from any relationship I had ever been a part of.

"You and that whole big heartbreak thing," she said. "At least you got some albums out of it."

Jack shared a glance with me, one that seemed to confirm what he had told me in that moment of utter vulnerability. Stacy didn't appear to know the full story, only that he wrote about some girl that was no longer his. His eyes conveyed so much in that fleeting moment, enough honesty and trust to drown me in warmth.

Had their relationship been that superficial? I wasn't sure if superficial was the right word for it or not. Maybe they never really talked about serious things at all.

He insisted that Hollywood couples were different from the rest of us. Yeah, they were regular people, but they also dealing with a whole slew of powerful influences that most of the population would never know or understand. An evening out in an unflattering outfit could spell disaster for the highly sensitive type. Gaining a few extra pounds could put you on the front of a tabloid with some exaggerated headline that could make you contemplate suicide.

What kind of life was that really? Well, it involved a lot of money, at least.

Jack got us another round of drinks—by that time, it was actually the second round he had gotten for everyone—and shortly after he returned, Stacy got up to use the bathroom. As soon as she was out of sight, Jack suddenly kissed me, the intensity peaking as soon as his lips met mine. I kissed him back and ran my hands through his hair ferociously, both because I wanted to and because I was a little drunk.

He withdrew his tongue and nibbled on my lower lip. "Jesus, Effie. I want to fuck your brains out so badly." His whisper felt like a scream as his fingers made an inconspicuous trip along my inner thigh, approaching a spot that would obviously lead to some serious awkwardness if he reached it right now. He stopped right before arriving, deftly completing his tease. What a jerk!

"I really wish you would," I said weakly, my breath a thing I had to battle for.

"Soon," he said, pressing his lips against mine one last time. Just like that, his composure returned, ready for Stacy's return. A subtle wetness had already spilled from me, but thankfully, it wasn't obvious. God, he could get me going so easily...

Every time it happened, I was just as surprised as the time before it.

"Thanks for doing this," I said, trying to divert my attention away from the screaming urges of my body.

"You don't think it's weird? Some people might."

"She'd be my hero if I were actually into acting."

"You could do it, I think. Remember how well you did that that party with all of the uptight, rich assholes?"

"Uptight, rich assholes?" I asked. "Like you? Besides, I want to write, not act."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to pick up this tab, Ms. Amateur Writer?"

"I'm not so sure I could. Plus, your credit card is already with the bartender."

"Okay, you win." He gave his cell phone a casual glance, probably checking the time. I hoped that's what it was, because I couldn't handle any more surprises tonight.

"She's really pretty in person, too. I'm not used to seeing her without make-up." It was tough not to feel inadequate hanging out with basically one of the most beautiful people in the world, as declared by more than one celebrity gossip magazine.

His look was distant at first. "I always liked her better that way." After a few seconds, he honed right in on my eyes. "She doesn't compare to you, though. You're fucking beautiful, Effie. Believe me."

As he spoke those words, my cheeks flushed red and butterflies flooded my stomach. On one hand, I felt that he was full of shit because, after all, this was Stacy Levons we were talking about. But on the other hand, he had no reason to lie to me in such an extreme fashion. "Whatever," I said, trying to deflect what I felt was a very incongruous compliment. "Thanks."

He didn't waver. "You know I mean