Jasmine: I don’t think that was an official point on the list.
Michelle’s reply was quick.
Michelle: Two words: Seth Thomas.
Two more words: Abuela’s party.
Oh god, she was right. Jasmine had to get her growing attraction to Ashton under control before she did something stupid, like she had with Seth.
She’d been casually dating Seth Thomas, one of her costars on Sunrise Vista, a short-lived daytime soap about architects, before the writers decided to make their characters an item. Seth had interpreted this to mean he could take certain liberties with Jasmine on set. When she’d suggested they handle the scenes like professionals, he’d accused her of “running hot and cold”—among other things—and stormed off to his trailer.
Definitely not an experience she cared to repeat.
She also had to figure out a way to invite Ashton to the party. They were on better terms now, but she still didn’t feel comfortable asking him yet. Especially after spilling how much her grandmother adored him. Ashton didn’t say much, but she’d noticed that he kept to himself and avoided the press. What if he thought she was trying to use him? Or set him up? Maybe he didn’t like fan attention. Would he think less of her grandma?
She’d have to kill him if he thought badly of her grandma, and that didn’t bode well for a second season of Carmen in Charge.
Maybe private rehearsals weren’t such a great idea after all. She couldn’t deny that running lines with him had helped their performance in episode four, but it had the potential to wreak havoc on her Leading Lady Plan.
His sweet awkwardness was too endearing, especially when coupled with the face and body of a god and an outwardly aloof demeanor. Plus, he made her laugh, and he cared about his family. How could she not fall for him?
But she couldn’t. Not this time. For once, she was going to cockblock her stupidly romantic heart.
Something else occurred to her, and she shot off another text to her cousins.
Jasmine: Can I get back on social media yet?
Michelle: Um, no.
Ava: I wouldn’t recommend it.
Jasmine let out a sigh. She had Ava monitoring her accounts and Michelle keeping up with the Google alert. They were supposed to let her know when the gossip reporters had tired of speculating about her and McIntyre. In the meantime, she was staying off social media and the internet, and avoiding anywhere that sold entertainment magazines. It was easier while she was working on set, but it also meant she couldn’t post any cute behind-the-scenes clips to drum up fan interest in Carmen.
If Ava and Michelle were suggesting she stay away, it meant the stories were still circulating. The last magazine she’d seen had claimed she was sending McIntyre late-night texts begging him to take her back. In reality, she’d blocked his number from her phone, but the lies still hurt.
Stupid McIntyre. She couldn’t even kill time scrolling on Instagram because of him.
She didn’t think she’d thrown herself at him, per se, as one particularly nasty “anonymous source” had claimed, but, with the clarity of hindsight, she knew that she’d done everything in her power to make him feel loved and appreciated. The way she wanted to feel.
Clingy. Obsessive. Desperate. Embarrassing.
Those were the kinds of words that showed up in the gossip pieces, but they weren’t new to her. She’d been accused of being clingy ever since middle school, after Everett Giordano dumped her in sixth grade. She’d sprawled on her bedroom floor listening to her sister’s Alanis Morissette CD for a week after that, because that’s what she’d seen girls in movies do after a breakup. Everett had been the first to shatter her heart, but not the last. And eventually she’d gotten much better about breakups.
No, not breakups. Getting dumped. Just like the magazine cover on her grandmother’s refrigerator door declared. Jasmine got dumped. Always. She never did the dumping because . . . well, because she was so afraid of being alone that she clung to guys she’d be better off kicking to the curb.
Guys like McIntyre. Like Seth Thomas. Like Everett Giordano.
How many more reasons did she need? Crushes were for suckers.
She opened the small fridge under the counter and pulled out a bottle of seltzer.
Her cousins said she was just picking the wrong guys, but sometimes, Jasmine wasn’t so sure. After all, she was the common factor here.
A new text came through on her phone from a number she didn’t recognize.