Finding June (19 page)

“I’m actually not being completely selfless,”
he said with a glint in his eye.

“Oh?” was the only response I could think of
with my heart pounding so distractingly in my ears.

“Taking you home does give me more time to
get to know you,” he admitted with a charming grin.

“I can safely say I’m fine with that,” I
answered. I bit my lip to keep myself from grinning like an idiot
and tried desperately to think of something clever and witty to
say. I was saved from my own horrible rendition of what was "clever
and witty" when Bates called for us to get to our first positions
for the scene.

For the rest of the day, the only thing I
seemed to be able to focus on was what was coming after work. I
tried to wrap my head around just how amazing it was that I’d
actually be hanging out with Lukas Leighton outside of work. He had
been nice to me on set, of course, but that was expected. If you’re
going to be working with someone, you don’t want to cause
conflicts, so you’ll treat them well. Asking me to spend time with
him after work, though? That was something he definitely wasn’t
obligated to do, which got my hopes up way more than it should
have.

I went through the rest of our filming day
with a brainless grin plastered to my face. I missed half of what
Ryan, Candice, and Benjamin were saying to me in the makeup trailer
while Candice painted little lines of "fresh scab" across my face.
Hours later, when I came back at the end of the day to have my
makeup taken off, I still looked a little dumbfounded that Lukas
had asked me out.

“Now, this fresh scab shouldn’t be too hard
to get off, but it may leave a small trace of red on your skin for
a while,” Candice was saying as she used an oily liquid to remove
my injury makeup. “But I’ve got some foundation that you can use to
cover that up once I remove it, if you want.”

I didn’t answer her offer, partly because I
hadn’t really heard what she was saying, and partly because my
phone had just buzzed with a text from a number I had now
memorized.

Just finishing my last scene. I’ll meet you
outside of the costume trailer.

I stared at the text for a long time, a
monumental smile stuck in place and making my cheeks ache. I closed
the phone slowly and let my eyes roam over the makeup trailer,
which suddenly seemed very cozy and friendly. The Little Steamer
stood near the corner of the mirror, the little round green leaves
all angling toward the door where the last slivers of light were
streaming in.

“Would you wipe that stupid smirk off of your
face? It’s ridiculous,” Candice remarked in a dull monotone.

“I can’t help it,” I replied, still beaming
from ear to ear.

“This better not be about that handle Lukas
Leighton. He’s so awful,” she said disdainfully.

“Oh, come on Candice, he’s really not that
bad. He’s always been nice to me,” I answered, coming to Lukas’s
defense. After all, he had been extremely sweet to me ever since we
started filming. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Candice and
everyone else just thought he was a jerk because they hadn’t taken
the time to get to know him. They expected him to be a jerk, so no
matter what, that’s how they were going to perceive him.

“He doesn’t kill puppies or anything, but
he’s so . . . empty. It’s like he doesn’t really think about
anything, he’s just kind of there.” She said all of this with a
perplexed look on her face, as if Lukas Leighton really were some
strange creature that she just couldn’t understand.

“Have you tried to get to know him?” I asked,
already knowing the answer to that question.

“I haven’t had a chance,” she stated dryly,
not really looking like she wanted the chance to get to know him.
Candice had finished taking my makeup off at this point and sat
down on the couch, rolling her head from side to side to relieve
some pain in her neck—possibly the pain that Lukas Leighton
apparently provided daily. I grabbed a bottle of foundation and
began re-doing my makeup in the hopes that I could somehow look
like I belonged with Lukas when we were out.

“If you haven’t even tried to get to know
him, how can you make a fair judgment?” I asked, feeling like I had
stumped her.

“He won’t let me do his makeup, remember?
That’s why I haven’t gotten to know him. Because he’s too good for
me to work on him. So there you go. Fair judgment made.”

I hated to admit it, but she did have a point
there. It was odd to me that someone as down-to-earth as Lukas
would do something so brusque. I looked back down at my phone,
trying to reconcile the two different opinions I was seeing of
Lukas. He was either rude or he was as sweet as he had been to me.
Unless, of course, there was more to the story that I just didn’t
know—a side where maybe Candice hadn’t been as nice to Lukas as she
let on, which I didn’t find too hard to believe just judging by how
she acted toward everyone. I knew that being dry and sarcastic was
part of Candice’s personality, but if someone like Lukas came up
against that, I could understand why he’d be rude right back to
her.

“You don’t have to look so put out. Go out
with the guy if you want. I don’t really care,” she said rather
unconvincingly. “I was just trying to look out for you.”

“Which I’m grateful for,” I said with a
smile. “It’s nice to have a friend who’s a girl. All of my friends
always seem to be boys.”

“I didn’t say we’re friends,” she replied as
she opened up a magazine and held it up so that it covered most of
her face. The small smile lines that had formed around her barely
visible eyes told me everything I needed to know. I had officially
made a friend.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” I said as
I grabbed my coat and left the makeup trailer. “See you tomorrow,
buddy,” I added sarcastically.

“I’m not your buddy,” she called through the
open door at my retreating form.

CHAPTER 16

Straddling Lukas Leighton’s motorcycle and
holding onto him for dear life was definitely not something I had
ever imagined myself doing. But if I’m being honest, it wasn’t such
a bad way to be terrified of the trees rushing by my head at sixty
miles per hour. In fact, I’d go as far as to say it was the best
way I could ever imagine having a near-death experience.

All right. Maybe "near-death experience" is
being a little dramatic. After all, I was wearing a helmet and
Lukas was a surprisingly careful driver. I imagine it had something
to do with the fact that if he got into an accident and ruined his
face, his career would be over. But I liked to think it had
something to do with the precious cargo he was carrying. The
precious cargo was me, in case you were wondering.

“So, is there somewhere you’d like to go or
should I pick?” Lukas called back while we were stopped at a red
light. It was difficult to hear him over the rumbling of his
motorcycle and the extensive padding of the helmet I wore.

“I’m sixteen,” I answered a bit more loudly
than I meant to. Lukas glanced at me over his shoulder, a small
smile playing on his lips. I suddenly felt that I should explain
this random statement. “I can’t go to a bar,” I clarified. Really,
I should have just said I didn't drink rather than copping out and
blaming my age, but for some reason I didn’t want Lukas to see me
as some boring conservative teenager. And so, against my better
judgment, I was attempting to act more grown-up and daring than I
actually was (in contrast to my giddy text to Gran letting her know
I was going out with Lukas). Getting onto the motorcycle in the
first place had been my first step in showing my inner
daredevil.

“I didn’t really picture you as a bar-hopping
type of girl anyway,” Lukas said loudly as the light turned green
and we took off again. “I was thinking maybe we could get some
coffee instead.”

Crap.

There was no way out of this one, was there?
I couldn’t very well blame my age. But maybe I could use the whole
not-drinking-coffee thing to make me look unique and freethinking,
because everyone drinks coffee, don’t they? So how unique would
that make me if I were one of the few people who didn’t? Of course,
I could just be honest and say I didn’t drink coffee because of my
beliefs . . . but that would require a degree of level-headedness
and confidence that I seemed to lack around someone as impressive
as Lukas Leighton.

“Sounds good,” was my delayed reply. Even
though I now had another dilemma to deal with, at least I could
throw the "designated driver" scenario out the window.

Now, before you shake your head at how much
of a sell-out I was being, you should know I agreed to go to the
coffee shop with the intention of ordering a hot chocolate.

And don’t give me that skeptical look, oh ye
of little faith.

At my response, Lukas picked up the pace a
bit, weaving between cars as if, with an actual destination in
mind, he had suddenly become more daring. This, of course, made me
cling tighter to him. I didn’t mind that one little bit, although I
could have done without the fearing for my life part.

Pulling into the parking lot of a small,
rundown coffee shop, Lukas hopped gracefully off his motorcycle. I
tried to do the same but it proved difficult in my heels. I
wrestled the helmet off my head and gave Candice a silent thank you
for using her extra hold hair spray when she curled my hair. It
looked surprisingly good for having been confined to the tight
helmet just moments ago.

“I love this place,” Lukas said, lacing his
fingers through mine as we walked through the parking lot. I tried
not to look stunned at the fact that he was suddenly holding my
hand and tried desperately to remind myself that Lukas wasn’t
sixteen. Holding hands probably wasn’t that big of a deal to him.
It probably wasn’t that big of a deal for most sixteen-year-olds
either, but for someone who has only had stage kisses, it was
shocking and wonderful all at the same time.

“Is this the coffee shop?” I asked. It didn’t
look like the coffee shops I was used to. It was an old, dimly lit
brick building with a small, barely noticeable entrance and no
windows. A wooden sign on the door read “The Ritalin Rival.”

“It’s a well-kept secret,” he said knowingly.
His unsaid "for people like me" hung in the air.

Inside, the shop was the complete opposite of
the outside. I expected grimy, unwashed, and dark. Instead I got
bright, white, and modern. The springy light wood floors were
spotless and white lights seemed to be placed on every available
spot on the ceiling. All of the chairs were bold reds, blues, and
yellows, with sharp, geometric backs and arms. The bar where a few
famous-looking people sat sipping lattes was plastic and
see-through, and the stools on which these "beautiful people" sat
looked like gumballs that someone had taken a bite out of. There
were a few bamboo shoots along the walls springing up out of the
ground where the wood floors gave way to dirt, and a constant
rhythmic beat played in the background.

“Wow,” I said breathlessly. It was definitely
a scene I wasn’t used to.

“I know, right? Isn’t it great?” he asked,
his eyes crinkled with excitement.

I wasn’t about to tell him it was very "not
me," so instead I smiled brightly and said, “It is something,
that’s for sure.” I thought I saw a few A-listers sitting blithely
by a tall bamboo plant, talking quietly and exchanging pretty
smiles. Even though the setting was so out of place for me, I had
to admit that it was like I had entered into a world few normal
people got to see. I was beyond flattered that Lukas had wanted to
invite me into this part of his life.

A server wearing all black walked up to us
and asked for our orders, which I thought was a bit odd,
considering you’d usually go up to a cash register and order. But
on the list of odd things I’d seen that evening, this was pretty
low. Lukas ordered some sort of fancy coffee that probably cost
more than Joseph’s car, and then the server turned to me. I
hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a more sophisticated way
of saying "hot chocolate."

“Um . . . do you have anything . . .” I was
totally blanking, right in front of Lukas. What was a fancy way of
saying hot chocolate? Was there really a fancy way to put it? Not
coming up with anything, I gave up trying to look cool. It was only
a matter of time before Lukas figured out how different from him I
was anyway; I might as well get it over with. “I actually don’t
drink coffee. Do you have any hot chocolate?” I finished lamely,
waiting for all of the celebrities to turn to me with disgust,
realize that I was not one of them, and throw me out.

“Sure thing,” the server said, giving me a
wan smile and retreating to the plastic bar to fill our orders.

“Should we sit over there?” Lukas asked,
motioning to a quiet (but not dark, since there were no dark
corners in this room) part of the coffee shop. He didn’t say
anything about the hot chocolate comment, which surprised me. He
didn’t even ask me about not drinking coffee. Maybe I had made a
big deal out of nothing. After all, who cared if I didn’t drink
coffee? It wasn't really
that
weird. It wasn’t like I had
said, "Oh actually I like to club baby seals, but thanks for
offering me coffee." Now that would be something you could
legitimately worry about.

“So I heard Bates talking about your future
on the show today,” Lukas said conspiratorially as he settled into
a cobalt blue armchair. I took the candy apple red chair adjacent
to his and tried to sit as gracefully as I could with my knees
almost hitting my chest. Why were these chairs so low to the
ground?

“Is this good news or bad news?” I asked,
trying to imitate the perfect smile I had seen Joann Hoozer give
him so many times on the show.

“They like you,” he began, obviously
withholding information from me on purpose. He studied my face for
a moment, a glint in his eyes. “It sounds like they may keep you on
the show for longer than four episodes,” he finally confessed. My
eyes grew wide at this news. Was it possible that the nobody known
as June Laurie could have won over the heart of a big-time
Hollywood director?