Just Like the Movies Read online

  It’s fucking awesome.

  I take my coffee to the sofa and flick the TV on. I tend to stay away from entertainment channels and websites. I learnt pretty quickly that people can be dicks. The paparazzi are good at making something out of literally nothing.

  Indie used to read all that tripe, scrawling through articles and reading about the sins of every celeb. Most of the pieces written are probably untrue.

  She could be reading about me right now. Maybe she stopped. I haven’t asked.

  I turn my phone over. It’ll be late afternoon in England. She might be at work, and if she’s not, she’ll definitely be studying.

  I might be a household name, but Indie is going to change the world.

  Unlocking the phone, I ignore messages from everyone else and scroll to her name. I wince. Shit, I haven’t replied to her last two messages. I only just got home from New York yesterday.

  I’m an arsehole in real life, too.

  “Spencer,” Ella groans, walking out of the spare bedroom. “Your guest bed sucks.”

  I lower my phone and spin around. “You stayed?”

  She laughs and ties her blonde hair up. “You forgot me? Way to make a girl feel special.”

  I don’t even remember getting home myself. “There’s fresh coffee. Help yourself.”

  Ella pours herself a cup before she joins me on the sofa. “So, apparently we’re a thing.”

  “Good to know,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

  “It’s all over Twitter. People are so obsessed with us making this movie, they’ll see anything. It’s happened with every movie I’ve made.”

  “All three of them, then.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Fuck off, newbie.”

  It’s probably closer to thirty. She’s been in the industry since she was a kid. I chuckle and drink my coffee. Ella and I might have killer chemistry on set, but it’s all acting. There’s nothing between us. However, she took me under her wing when I arrived, and I really appreciate that. She’s my best friend out here.

  “Did we climb a rock wall last night?”

  She laughs. “Yeah, you paid the owner to open late for us.”

  That sounds like me. Now if I want to do something, I have to pay more to do it alone. Jared has to come with me because I cannot do anything without a manager-come-PA now. Denny hired him when the world started wanting a piece of me.

  He has an apartment in the same building. Thankfully, he’s a decent guy.

  “How did I not break anything?”

  “You broke a table.”

  I side-eye her. She could be lying. I don’t remember much after leaving the club. “What time did we go climbing?”

  “Around one, I think. We met the owner, Marcel, at the club.”

  I shake my head. “Never let me go out again. I broke a table?”

  “You fell on it. Jared has it covered.”

  “From the wall?”

  “No, idiot. How are you not sore today?”

  “Probably still drunk.”

  “I’m so ready for a break,” she says. “I think I’ll go and do something different for a while. Filming and partying have left me haggard. Maybe I’ll backpack through the Amazon.”

  “You’d die.”

  She scowls. “I would not die.”

  “Yeah, you would.”

  She huffs, the way she does when she knows she’s wrong. “Maybe I’ll go to the Bahamas instead.”

  That’s more Ella.

  “What are your plans today?” I ask.

  “Nothing. I’m exhausted so I’m going to soak in the bathtub for about three hours. What were you doing before I got up?”

  “Just making coffee.”

  Her eyes search mine accusingly.

  She knows I’m thinking about Indie. Ella knows all about the girl back home who I could never let go of.

  “Are you bringing her out here?” she asks.

  I nod. “I’ve sorted it.” I’ve just not asked Indie yet. There is no way I can go to my first premiere without her. It’s not happening. She’s the reason I perused a career in acting.

  Smirking behind her cup, Ella says so much more than she could with her words.

  Yes, I know. I’m still hopelessly in love with my best friend.

  Three

  Indie

  Friday rolls around slowly. The weeks feel long until I get to Friday. I had an early afternoon shift at The Waffle House straight after my last lecture, but it’s all I have for weeks. That’s fine by me. Now I’m home to shower and change because I’m going out tonight. Not properly out, but to Spencer’s parents’ place.

  With a racing heart and clammy palms, I brush through my long brown hair and take a breath. I shouldn’t be this nervous to have dinner with Jodie and Andrew—they’ve been like parents to me over the years—but I am nervous because I’m still waiting to find out if they’re going to move.

  It was months ago when I saw the house brochures for homes in LA. They’ve said nothing about it and I’m too scared to ask, which means they changed their mind and they’re staying in England… or worse, the brochures were for Spencer, and he’s not coming back.

  I can’t even think about what my life will look like if he’s not in it. It’s hard enough not having him now.

  I stand abruptly, grab my bag, and I leave the room as if I can outrun my thoughts.

  Spencer is coming home.

  My parents are on the sofa, cuddled up asleep, so I don’t bother with a goodbye. Not that they’ll even notice that I’m not home. I could move out and it would take them weeks to realise.

  I gently close the door behind me before I dash out into the freezing cold drizzle. I’m so glad I blow-dried my hair. Unlocking my car with a wiggle of the key—the lock is playing up again—I get in and drive.

  My fingertips lightly tap on the steering wheel. Spencer will be home in about two weeks after the premiere.

  I think I get him until he lands another job.

  Of course, I want him to get the lead in an equally amazing movie but, selfishly, I hope it’s not for a few months. I could really do with my best friend here.

  Spence only lives a few minutes away, although he went to an acting school in the city. I remember getting home, changing out of my uniform, and going straight to his house most days. He would walk in and I’d already be in his bedroom. Not once did he seem to care. Every day I was met by the dazzling smile he now shares with the world.

  I park in the drive of their charming five-bedroom home. Andrew is a keen gardener and keeps the outside immaculate with manicured lawns, cut hedges, and colourful flowerbeds, while Jodie is house proud and keeps the inside pristine.

  Spencer is their only child, so they’ve filled the other three bedrooms with a guest room, study, and a fairly unused gym.

  They both have good careers, and they still having plenty of time for Spencer… and me.

  I know perfect people don’t exist, but the Lowes are close. Spence has the best family in the world.

  Jodie runs from the front door when she hears my rattling car arrive. Her curly brown hair bobs as she walks down the path. I cut the engine and get out.

  “It’s raining. Get inside!” I say, laughing as she opens her arms.

  “Oh, who cares about a little water. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  She hasn’t seen me in three weeks. I’ve missed her, too.

  “How are you?” I ask.

  “Missing my boy and my girl!” She pulls back and raises her eyebrows. “You don’t leave it this long next time.”

  “Yes, Mum,” I mutter, making her laugh.

  “Come on,” she says, guiding me inside as if I’ve forgotten the layout of her house. I probably know it better than my own.

  “Is Andrew home?”

  “He’s cooking dinner.”

  Jodie closes the door, and the rich aroma of roast beef and Andrew’s homemade gravy hits me like a big, welcoming hug.

  “Oh, that smells so g
ood.”

  Jodie takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen.

  Andrew turns from his position at the large, cream Aga, and he smiles. “The prodigal surrogate daughter returns.”

  Smiling from ear to ear, I walk into his arms and give him a tight hug. It really hasn’t been that long.

  I bloody love these people.

  “Hey.” We pull away at the same time, our hug in perfect sync. “I see you’re cooking my favourite.”

  He nods. “As per my instructions.”

  “Please,” Jodie scoffs. “As soon as I told you about Indie’s visit, you were off to the butchers.”

  Laughing, he replies, “Why don’t you pour the wine, love?”

  “Indie?”

  “Please,” I say. I can have one. By the time they let me leave, it’ll be late, and I will have been stuffed to bursting. “So, have you heard from Spencer recently?”

  Jodie tilts her head to the side while she opens a bottle of red wine. “Not as often as I would like. But Andrew managed to get him yesterday. He’s home in two weeks but we’ll see him at the premiere next week. I can’t wait.”

  My heart leaps. Not long.

  “Cool. It’ll be good to finally get him home,” I say.

  Cool. Look how casual I’m managing to be.

  Jodie pours three glasses. “We’ve missed him so much. It’s been hard not seeing him every day, and we’ve not been able to visit as much as we’d like. He’s always busy.”

  “It has been hard,” I agree. Calling it hard is like saying Queen were only okay.

  Spencer is my safe place, and he’s been gone for so long.

  “How is uni, love?” Andrew asks, taking a glass from Jodie.

  I take mine and offer her a small thanks. “It’s good. There’s a lot of work but I like it.” It’s my ticket out of home.

  “Good. We can’t wait until you graduate,” he says.

  My eyes widen. “No big party!”

  I’ve warned them about not making a huge fuss. I don’t think my parents even know I’m in my last year.

  Jodie holds her free hand up. “I’m not promising anything.”

  Oh God, they’re going to go all out.

  “There enough for a fourth glass?”

  My heart stops dead at the sound of his smooth voice.

  Jodie screams, slamming her glass down on the marble worktop so hard that the wine sloshes over the top.

  “Spencer!” Andrew calls, rounding the island to hug his son.

  I turn so slowly, my breath catches in my throat.

  There he is. Standing tall, even taller somehow, in his parents’ kitchen. Spencer Lowe. My first, last, and only love. He laughs as his parents tackle him. The mass of brown wavy hair on top of his head flops, and my stomach flips. He’s wearing jeans and a simple white T-shirt that shows off a mouth-watering six pack.

  With his arms tightly around his mum and dad, he says, “Missed me, huh?”

  His voice vibrates through me, doing things to my insides that offer very inappropriate thoughts.

  Then, his attention is on me. Striking green eyes raise, and I’m falling.

  I place my glass on the counter because I don’t trust my grip.

  He’s here. Right now.

  “I thought you weren’t getting back until after the premiere?” Jodie asks, finally letting him go.

  He tears his eyes from me and smiles at his mum. “Telling you I’m home today would ruin the surprise. I have to stay in LA after the premiere now, but I still wanted to come home.”

  “I’m so happy you’re here, darling,” she cries. “Would you like wine?”

  He turns his nose up. “No, thanks.”

  Andrew rolls his eyes. “I knew you didn’t really want one. There’s beer in the fridge.”

  “I’ll get it,” Jodie says.

  Spencer takes a step closer to me. Then another.

  His parents are in the background, getting him beer and cleaning the spilt wine. All I can see is him. To be fair, all I’ve ever seen is him.

  “Hey, Spence,” I whisper.

  “Don’t ‘Hey, Spence’ me. Come here,” he commands, holding his arms out.

  I swallow the sob and run the small space into his embrace. Closing my eyes, I wrap my arms around his back and hold onto him so hard, I’m probably close to breaking a rib.

  Burying his face in my hair, he rests his lips in the crook of my neck and holds me so tightly, I wonder if he’s missed me the same way.

  This is home.

  I breathe him in until I’m totally drunk on Spencer.

  “Damn, I missed you, Miss Indie Croft,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin.

  I’m sure he felt the shudder ripple through my body. It was more of an electrocution than anything else.

  “Very formal. I missed you, too, movie star.”

  On a chuckle, he pulls away, and I feel the chilling loss instantly.

  “Finished uni yet?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Made a million yet?”

  His smile grows, and so does my heart.

  Four

  Spencer

  Remind me again how I was able to leave her?

  Being back is like stepping through some kind of time warp. Nothing has changed. She’s still here in my family home where she belongs. She’s still my best friend.

  We sit around the dining table, eating a huge roast that could easily feed eight. I just want to pick Indie up and take her to my room. I want to be touching her.

  I’ve just finished telling them what it’s like on set—again—and how exhausting promoting a movie is. I’m desperate to do it all again.

  “When do you have to go back?” Dad asks. “We’re flying out Wednesday.”

  “I know, I’m leaving with you, so we’ll be ready for the premiere on Friday.”

  Mum gasps. “I can’t wait. My bags are already packed.”

  Andrew shakes his head. “The premiere of my son’s first movie in Hollywood!”

  I turn my head to my left. “Indie?”

  She looks up at me through long eyelashes. “Yeah?”

  Really? She knows that I’m looking for conformation. We’ve always said that she’d be at the premiere, although not recently. It was kind of a given.

  “I know you don’t like taking time off uni, but a few days will be okay, right? You’re still planning on coming?”

  There is no way I can go to this without her.

  For a second, she looks lost. Then she makes my night. “Nothing would stop me.”

  I sigh in relief. If she’d have said no, I don’t know what I would do. “Good, because I need you all there.”

  “After dinner, we’ll have a look at flights and visas,” Dad says. “I assume you’ll put your family up in your posh apartment?”

  Smirking, I say, “I’ll have to make sure I send the prostitutes away first.”

  “Spencer!” Mum scolds with a laugh.

  “Wow, you must be a crap actor if you’re having to pay for it,” Indie jokes.

  I grip my heart. “You wound me.”

  Damn, I love her.

  At one point, I thought things with Indie were going somewhere. We’ve been friends since we were eleven.

  A few days before my acting coach at school got me an audition for the movie, we started dating. Then I got the part and had to leave, and she got a place at uni. The timing was bad, so we slid straight back into a friendship.

  “On that note,” Mum says, “I’ll clear the plates and get dessert. Andrew, can you help?”

  Dad nods and takes our plates.

  “For the record, I don’t need to pay for it,” I tell Indie once my parents are out of the room.

  She rolls my favourite dark eyes at me. “Yeah, I’ve seen the articles.”

  “Articles?”

  “You’re not dumb, Hollywood.”

  I shake my head. “I think only one in every fifty stories published in the media is true.”

  “Oh, reall
y? So, someone has been out partying with a Spencer Lowe mask on?”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with every girl I’m photographed with. We’ve been friends for years and never slept together.”

  How I have wanted to, though. One look is all it takes to get me hot under the collar. In the weeks we were together, when I could kiss her, I was walking around with blue balls. Nothing gets me off faster than thinking about Indie.

  She turns away and takes a sip of her wine.

  That conversation is over.

  “How is everything? Are Wren and Mila okay?” I ask.

  “They’re good,” she says. When she turns back, her eyes are smiling again. “I’m going out with them tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

  I arch a brow, trying not to smile. “I’m invited to girls’ night?”

  “It’s not really girls’ night. Brody is coming.”

  “Brody? Oh, Wren’s husband. The one she married by mistake?”

  “That’s the one. Gosh, that was a dramatic time.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was on holiday with her siblings and friends to Vegas. She got drunk and married Brody. There was a lot of drama.”

  “Because she married her brother’s mate.”

  Indie nods. “Yeah, it was messy. They’re sickeningly happy now, though.”

  “Have I met him before?”

  “Maybe.”

  It’s unlikely. Indie keeps different parts of her life filed separately. I’ve met Wren and Mila a few times before, very briefly. I’ve never met her parents. I get the impression no one has. I’ve never even been inside her house.

  Mum and Dad worried about her all through high school, wondering what the deal with her parents is. She either shuts down or talks around the issue whenever it’s raised. I’m still waiting for the day she opens up. But then I left her to film a movie, so why would she confide in me?

  It’s kind of like the way I let messaging her slip. The longer it went on, the harder it was to contact her. The only way I could bare missing her was to pretend that I had no one back home.

  “Where are we going tomorrow?” I ask, itching to reach over and pull her onto my lap. I can smell her perfume and it’s driving me crazy.