f.u.c.king Sam.
A few hours later, when Kylie drives me home, I can tell she’s still p.i.s.sed at me. She keeps her eyes attached to the d.a.m.n road, and her nostrils flare. She doesn’t say anything, but I don’t want to talk either. Sam’s still texting me; even from Atlanta, my ex has managed to royally f**k up my day, my night, and maybe the rest of the week.
Call me right now or I swear, Lucas, her last text had said.
Or what? I’ll do it when I’m good and ready.
Was it screwed up that I could hear her husky, bitter laughter when she responded back with Do you really need to ask ‘or what’?
No, I didn’t need to. I know exactly what Sam’s capable of, what that vicious b.i.t.c.h knows. She’s the only person I can’t control, that there’s no possibility of controlling, so I won’t speak to her. Not until we’re on my terms.
Kylie parks the Escalade as far away from my front door as she can and leans back into the seat, staring up at a window on the second floor. “Good night, Lucas.”
I c**k an eyebrow. “What? No coming in to hara.s.s me?”
She turns her gaze to mine, focusing her brown eyes into thin slits. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When I get out, I don’t immediately slam the door. Instead I give her a genuine look. “Bring donuts.”
She scoffs, but the makings of a smile start to form on her face. “You hate them.”
“Bring them,” I order.
Rolling her eyes, she finally laughs. “Whatever. See you then.”
I don’t make it into the foyer before Sam is on my a.s.s again, texting me. Demanding that I call her. Threatening me. If there’s one person I can always depend on to never change, it’s my ex.
I send her a text right before I climb into the shower to shake Sienna out of my system, at least until tomorrow when I’d claim her.
My Terms.
Sam doesn’t message me back, but I know better than anyone that s.h.i.t won’t last very long.
Chapter Six
Sienna
“Lucas Wolfe asked you to dinner?” my roommate demands for what has to be the twentieth time. I plunge at a cherry tomato with my fork, and roll my eyes at Tori.
“Yes.”
She twists her napkin in between her small hands as she lets out a ma.s.sive squeal. “And you told him no? Are you s.h.i.tting me?”
I drop my fork down into my plate, irritated at myself for even bringing it up. When we first sat down to eat dinner together, our conversation focused on my family—I’d told her about the conversation I’d had with Gram on my way home about my younger brother’s grades.
“Maybe she should hire Seth a tutor,” Tori had suggested, pouring another gla.s.s of wine.
Shaking my head, I’d replied, “He graduates in five months. I’m not sure how much good a tutor would do for him at this point, you know?”
Tori must have realized how guilty I felt, because she’d quickly changed the subject. “So spill it. Tell me about the YTS shoot?”
I rattled off everything I’d done today from measuring Christina to going on three separate coffee runs for Amber to Lucas’s band members. .h.i.tting on me. The moment I mentioned what had happened in Lucas’s private dressing room, though, Tori stopped chewing and leaned in close to me, probing for details.
“Sienna! You’re killing me!” Tori groans, yanking my thoughts back to the present, where she’s all but bouncing in her seat. “Tell me everything.”
I frown because she’s so dramatic. “There’s not much else to tell. I didn’t say no and I didn’t say yes.”
Tori c.o.c.ks one of her jet black eyebrows, giving me a skeptical look. She doesn’t seem to notice that she’s completely obliterated the floral-print paper towel that she picked up a few minutes ago. “So you told him maybe?”
“You should go get your cow,” I suggest, referring to one of her many stress b.a.l.l.s that she’s worn to shreds. Her long black hair swings around her face as she jerks her head from side to side. Groaning, I run my hands through my hair, as if it’ll help sort my head. It doesn’t because Lucas Wolfe has been inside of it since first thing this morning, and he refuses to get the h.e.l.l out, no matter what I think of to replace him.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell him anything. His a.s.sistant showed up and said they were ready for him on set again.”
“And you didn’t go find him later?”
I release a groan and stare at Tori incredulously. “Okay, for starters, Amber would shank me if she caught me doing something other than what I’ve been hired to do—that was one of the first things she told me. Plus, don’t you think tracking Lucas down is just a little stalkerish?”
She holds up her hand, moving it back and forth in an eh-maybe-a-little motion. Then Tori’s mouth twists into a smile, and she shakes her head. “Are you kidding me? He’s a rock star. Rock stars love stalkers. Stop being so d.a.m.n shy and just go out with the guy. Let go for once.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a bunch of restraining orders against you,” I say wryly, s.n.a.t.c.hing up my fork again to stuff a giant bite of salad into my mouth. “And before you ask me any more questions, I doubt he’ll ask again. It was probably some spur of the moment thing, you know? And besides, I know nothing about him.”
She shakes her head at me disbelievingly before letting the paper towel fall to the floor beside the table. “Everything you need to know about Lucas Wolfe is on Google,” she says, her voice dropping to a worshiping hush when she says his name. “And you should look him up because I bet you next month’s rent he’ll ask again tomorrow.”