It’s Thursday morning, and I’m in Lillianna’s chair, letting her attack my hair with a brush and grill me about the week. I don’t mind, though. For one, I think my scalp is getting numb from all the hours I’ve spent in here, and for another, we’re talking about Rainer.
This week has been nonstop filming, but on set things are different with us. So, okay, maybe he just wants to be friends. But I can’t help but feel like I’m not crazy for having this crush. He’s been so flirty this week. Using every excuse when we’re on set to touch me. I can see it bugs Wyatt, and, yeah, everyone is watching us, but it’s not like they weren’t before. For the first time I just want to relax and enjoy this. I don’t know exactly what’s happening between us and maybe, for now, that’s okay.
I’m thinking about yesterday when we were filming this waterfall scene. All we were wearing were the tiniest pieces of clothing, and it was freezing—the sun definitely did not want to come out. By the second hour my teeth were chattering, and between takes Rainer would put his arms around me and hold me against his chest to keep me warm.
“He’s sweet,” I say, looking at Lillianna.
She eyes me. “Something is cooking between you two.”
I laugh. But I don’t say no. I’m about to tell her about yesterday when there is a knock at the door. It’s Jessica.
“Hey, Paige, we need you.”
I glance up at Lillianna. “I just got here.” I flip over my watch. “We’re not shooting for another hour and a half.”
Jessica smiles. “Jordan Wilder came to set early,” she says. “You’re doing your chemistry test with him later, so everything’s moved up. We’re already behind schedule.”
I think about my conversation with Rainer last weekend. About how I offered to blow this thing. I know he declined, but the more time that goes by the more I know I’d do it for him. Things are so good on this set right now—we can’t risk that. I can’t risk that.
I nod to Jessica. “I’ll be right there.”
Jessica bites her lip, and I see her glance down. “Now,” she says softly. She looks up at me. “I’m sorry, but Wyatt says we have to go now.”
I stand up, and Lillianna gives me a shrug. “Good luck, hon,” she says. “You keep holding your own with that boy.” She pauses, looks me up and down. “Both of them.”
Jordan Wilder is shorter than I thought, much shorter. Shorter than Rainer by far. He’s standing by the edge of the water, the rising sun creating a halo around his frame. He doesn’t immediately turn around, but I know it’s him. I can tell from the scar down his neck, the one that starts just below his ear and scissors down to his jaw. The one that, according to Hollywood Insider, Jordan got from a fight last year. He was arrested for disorderly conduct. Between that and an ongoing lawsuit with his parents, he’s constantly in the tabloids.
Okay, so, I’ll admit it: When I first saw Rainer’s reaction to Jordan being cast, I did a little research.
Here’s what I found out: Rainer’s not the only one Jordan has pissed off. Not by a long shot. He’s been around Hollywood for a while and has been linked to countless actresses. And then there’s his family drama. He emancipated himself from his parents because of money. He’s been in prison. The list goes on.
Seeing him standing there now, even from far away, I can tell he’s trouble. I can feel it.
I go over to where Wyatt is walking through something with Rainer. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or terrified that he’s on set, too. “Hey,” I say. “I didn’t know Jordan was coming today.” My voice comes out shaky. I’m still not sure where I stand with Wyatt.
He doesn’t take his eyes off the script in his hands. “You’ll test with him later,” Wyatt says. “We’re filming now.”
Camden comes over, and I grab Rainer’s shoulder. He immediately loops an arm around my waist, and I have to swallow to continue my thought. “Is he going to watch?” I ask, slightly panicked.
Rainer moves his hand to my back. “It’s okay,” he says, but his face doesn’t seem to agree.
I’m still holding on to his shoulder, and I lean my lips close to his ear. “Have you spoken to your dad?”
Rainer eyes me. “Are you concerned now?”
I shrug. “No. He just seems…”
“Destructive?”
“Interesting,” I correct.
“Diplomatic.” Rainer winks and runs his hand down the small of my back. It makes me inhale sharply. Wyatt turns away from Camden. He gives us a weary expression, the kind I’ve seen him wear a lot this week. The one that says I don’t have time for this.
“While I’m under the impression that I’m young,” Wyatt says.
Rainer still has his hand on me, and I keep my eyes on Jordan. He’s facing the shore, his short-sleeved gray T-shirt billowing out in the morning breeze.
“Wilder, come here a second,” Wyatt calls. I’ve never heard Wyatt use anyone’s last name and the implied familiarity of it throws me. And then, slowly, Jordan turns around.
He catches my eye instantly. Did you ever have a moment that just solidified? Like the freeze-frame was so strong you could swear time stopped and hardened? Something makes my body feel tight, like my skin all of a sudden is too small.
Jordan’s eyes pierce mine. They’re jet black, the same color as his hair. It’s impossible to tell where his pupils end.
He looks away, scanning the periphery slowly. I see him take in Rainer’s hand on my waist, my grip on his shoulder. I untangle us quickly.
He keeps walking toward us. He’s unshaven, but I can still see his scar working its way down his jaw to the back of his neck like a hiker on a mountain trail.
“PG?” Rainer is staring at me, and I have a feeling that isn’t the first time he’s called my name. I give him a distracted smile as Jordan reaches us.
“Jordan, Paige. Paige, Jordan.” Wyatt glances back to where Jessica is waving him over. “Get to know each other for a minute,” he says, before taking off for the tent.
I jump in. “Hi,” I say. “Paige.” I extend my hand to him, but Jordan doesn’t reach out. He just tips his head to me and focuses his eyes on Rainer.
“Hey,” he says. “It’s been a while.” His voice is low, but pointed. It curls around his words like smoke.
Rainer snorts. “I’m so delighted you decided to show up here.” His tone is cold, biting.
Jordan crosses his arms. The edge of a tattoo peeks out when his shirt rides up. “I see not much has changed.”
“Has it on your end?”
I take a step back. Whatever this is, I don’t want to be in the middle of it. Jordan lets his arms fall, and it sounds like wind rushing by. Or it could just be the extreme sound of my own inhaling.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says.
Rainer shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I really wouldn’t.” He runs a hand over his forehead. “What did you think it would be like, showing up here?”
“Exactly like this.”
Rainer moves closer to him, close enough that Jordan should take a step back, but he doesn’t. “You bring this on yourself, and you know it. And it’s just a matter of time before she realizes it, too.”
Jordan’s eyes narrow, and I can see his reserve breaking like thin ice—frown lines spreading across his face like cracks. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“What I’d like is for you not to be here.”
Jordan smirks, the corners of his mouth turning up at the sides like someone is pulling tiny marionette strings. “Then you just gave me even more motivation to stay.”
He looks me over from top to bottom. His gaze is slow, halting, and I can tell by the way it brushes my shoulders and slides down my body that it’s for effect.
Rainer gets this look on his face like it’s taking every internal power he has not to close the two feet between them and punch Jordan right in the face. I wouldn’t blame him.
I sidestep out of the way just as Wyatt yells, “We’re losing the light. Can you guys hold your social hour for lunch? Wilder, stick around.”
Jordan looks up. “I’d love to.” He sends Rainer one more glance, a smile, almost scary in its sweetness, and then he casually heads back to the tent, slips into a producer’s chair, and crosses one leg at the knee.
Rainer doesn’t look at me as we start, and I feel something harden in the pit of my stomach.
I know that Ed is in the beginning and end of book one, and that August is torn between Ed and Noah. She loves Ed, she has a history with Ed, but she’s drawn to Noah. She’s had a crush on him forever, and without Ed on the island, her feelings blossom. But she is going to have a choice to make, and I don’t actually know what she chooses. Contrary to popular belief, or what people are saying all over Tumblr and Twitter, neither Rainer nor I have read the final book. It’s under lockdown at the publishing house. I have a sneaking suspicion that Wyatt knows. I think the author told him how things turn out.
The point is Jordan could be in our lives for the next two or more years. We could be cemented together as this trio forever. Which is why it’s really, really important that he not get the part.
I’ve never seen Rainer so off his game.
He’s vibrating next to me. He does this sometimes right before a scene, like he’s shaking himself off. But this time it’s more purposeful, like he’s not just trying to get rid of himself but someone else, too.
Jordan.
He’s sitting there. Calm and cool and collected and a total minefield. You don’t even notice until it’s too late—until you step on an unassuming piece of ground—and you’re blown to bits. Rainer screws up a line and keeps fidgeting, resulting in someone having to fix his makeup like six times between takes.
By noon we haven’t gotten close to what we need. And Jordan is still there. Arms folded against his chest, black eyes fixed on Rainer. Like a hunter looking through the barrel of a gun, lining up a shot.
When Wyatt calls for lunch, Rainer takes off toward the vans to go back to the condos. He runs a hand over my hair before he leaves, but he doesn’t ask if I want to come with. I let him go.
I take a breath and walk over to Jordan’s chair. I want to say something, maybe even ask him to leave. But as soon as I open my mouth, he turns to Wyatt and starts talking. Like he doesn’t even see me standing right there in front of him. He’s branded me Team Rainer, so now he doesn’t want anything to do with me. Well, fine. Two can play that game.
I take a van to the condos, and when I get there, I realize how starved I am. Everyone—cast and crew—usually has lunch together at a tent set up outside. When I get to craft services, the crew is already eating. I spot Jessica and head toward her. Wrapped sandwiches are set out on the tables, and I grab a turkey and Swiss on my way.
Jessica is wearing a baseball hat with her hair swept up into a tight ponytail; it swings like a pendulum when she turns to look at me. “Have you seen Rainer?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “You need something?”
“I’m good.” I sit down next to her, unwrap the sandwich, and take a bite. It tastes like flavored sand. And I would know, I’ve been eating it pretty regularly during most beach scenes. I’d do anything for a burger from the Fish Market right about now.
“So, you meet Jordan?” Jessica spears a lettuce leaf with a fork, keeping her eyes on her plate. Her tone is casual, but I can tell from the way her eyebrows move up that she’s trying to get a read on me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Rainer doesn’t seem pleased that he’s here. I guess they have some history.”
Jessica gawks at me. “Some history? Are you kidding me?”
“Britney…” My voice trails off. I don’t actually know which details are true and which aren’t. Rainer hasn’t told me, and I refuse to fill them in myself.
Jessica lowers her voice. “Britney Drake cheated on Rainer with Jordan.” She clears her throat. “They’re still together.”
“Rainer said he broke up with Britney.”
“Right,” Jessica says. “Because she’s with Jordan. Rainer is just trying to save face with you.” She squints like she’s just eaten a sour lemon and runs her hand over her forehead. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine,” I say. I take another bite of my sandwich and chew carefully. So Wyatt isn’t the only one who is watching us—so what?
“Those two are like natural enemies,” Jessica says. “They have to be seated at opposite sides of the Teen Choice Awards.” She spears a cherry tomato with her fork. “I get why he’s here, he’s a great actor, but I’m not sure how this is going to go.”
“Well, hopefully he won’t get the part,” I say, attempting a smile.
Jessica nods. “Totally possible,” she says. “Jordan playing the good guy? I just don’t see it.”
I want to ask her more about what she knows—like was he really in prison? But I have a feeling Google is going to have to inform me again, because I see Wyatt at the entrance to the tent, red-faced and script in hand. “PG,” he bellows. “Now.”
Jessica scoops up her tray, and I follow her over to Wyatt. “Good luck,” she mouths. I can’t help but think I’m going to need it.