Crossing Lines

Chapter 15 - Hayden

The next week goes by in a blur; between practice and interviews and business meetings, I rarely find the time to speak to Mila, even though it's all I want to do all day.

"Bro, what's up with you today?" My best friend's voice echoes through the shower. "You seem...off."

He's right. I've been focused on the field, but the second my feet leave the grass, I feel how my mind drifts into unknown spheres, every damn time. "Sorry. I don't know what's going on," I reply, a straight-out lie. Because I know what's going on. It's a certain brunette author waiting for me in L.A., but there's nothing I can do about it right now.

"Is it about the phone girl?"

"The phone girl?" Abe turns to us, obviously unaware of the woman in my life.

"Yeah, remember when Ice over here swapped phones with this chick?"

"Oh right, wasn't that, like, over two weeks ago?"

Kill's response is a wide grin, but I simply roll my eyes as I turn to let the hot water flow down my face, trying to drown out my friends.

"Damn, Ice. Are you still talking to her?" Abe asks, and it takes me a second to come up with the right answer. I don't know where Mila and I stand—we haven't discussed what we are and what we want people to know, yet.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm still talking to her." I respond. There's no use denying it.

"Damn, she must be one hell of a catch. You're not one to keep them for more than a week."

And I hate that I can't even argue with Abe on that one. I've never been a playboy, and for the rare occasion that I ended up with a woman in my bed, I usually kept it casual. My career's demands are tough on any relationship, and I've never felt like it was worth trying.

"So? Who is she?"

I can't even answer Kilian's question, because seconds later, Jason enters the shower, a wide grin on his face as he steps beneath an unoccupied shower head.

"Doesn't matter who she is. She's hot, like a sexy secretary," he exclaims, obviously wanting me to hear him.

"Watch your mouth, Hass." I can't help my response, but that idiot just runs a hand through his soaking hair, still carrying a smug look when he turns to talk to me.

"Oh, she must be one hell of a fuck if you're defending her honor already. Maybe I'll try to take my turn with her too."

This asshole knows exactly what he's doing, because I don't even realize I've moved until I stand in front of him, ready to polish that stupid smile off his face. The fact that we're all buck-naked doesn't bother me one bit. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Abe and Kill appear right behind me, unsurprisingly. The testosterone in this room must be off the charts—I feel like a teenager again with how little restraint I'm showing right now.

"Come on, man. Lose some of that testosterone for a sec." Kilian's hand on my shoulder keeps me from overreacting, and I turn to see him stare at Jason. "I mean, look at that pathetic fucker—I think he's going to shit himself any second now."

Both Abe and I snort from his statement, and I actually listen to him. Old me would've just jumped at the chance to give this idiot a piece of my mind. Then again, old me wouldn't have cared enough for any woman to go to these lengths. But right now I'm thinking I'm seeing Mila in two days, and I don't want to do that with a black eye.

"Yeah, you're right." I give Kill a pat on the shoulder, silently thanking him for setting me straight when I needed it.

I don't spend much time in the shower after that. Instead, I put on clothes before I get into my rental, a breath I didn't know I was holding escaping my throat as I take a seat behind the wheel.

Throwing my phone on the passenger seat, I notice a new notification on the screen, and instantly my heart feels a little lighter from the simple thought of seeing Mila's name at the top of this message.

Good morning, Cash. Before you ask—yes, I did just wake up. But that's because I wrote the first chapter last night! I think I'm getting somewhere!

And I can't help but smile at that too. Because I know how much she's been struggling with that book, and I realize her wellbeing is a genuine concern for me. Good morning, Lucky. I'm glad to hear.

I make my way to the hotel, and by the time I reach my room, I notice another text on my phone.

How was your morning so far?

I don't even know how to answer that. I can't really tell her my blood's been boiling at the thought of another guy bothering her; irrational jealousy doesn't seem like a trait Mila would approve of. It was okay, I guess. I feel like an asshole for not elaborating further, for keeping it short and simple with her. It's not what she deserves, and it's not how we conversed in the past.

Do you want to talk about it?

I'm good. I shoot the reply without even thinking twice and jump into my sweatpants, glancing at the phone on the couch table when I grab a cup of coffee from the ensuite kitchen.

"Of course she doesn't reply when you're being such a dick," I mumble and shake my head before I pick up the phone again. I'm sorry. Had some trouble with this asshole this morning, that's all. I go with a half truth. She doesn't need to know the whole drama.

Asshole from the soda machine?

The one and only.

Oh. I'm sorry to hear. I guess I'd be in a bad mood too if I had to see him so early in the morning.

A laugh escapes my throat when I see her reply—the fact that it's 11:30 and she really did just say so early in the morning cracks me up. See, my life's not easy, I reply.

Never said it was, Cash.

I don't know what it is, but something about this whole situation makes me want to see her. So, so badly. I've never felt this way, and as much as it exhilarates me, it's also scary as hell.

But just as I'm wracking my brain about the right response, my phone vibrates in my hand, announcing a call from my agent.

"John?"

"Hayden, I'm glad you answered. Listen, there's a change of plans..."

"Another one?" God, are they kidding me right now?

"Yes, I know, but it seems like they need you back in L.A. tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I nearly jump out of my seat when he says that, the prospect of going back sooner than expected conjuring a grin on my lips.

"Yes. Melissa wants to talk to you about some changes and asked that you'd be there for it, even if that meant leaving Jimmy Kimmel hanging—"

"I don't even like the guy," I interrupt him. "I'll be at the airport in an hour."

"What? No, you have a flight tomorrow—"

"I said I'll be there in an hour, John." I feel sorry for interrupting again, but this is worth it. "Make it happen. One hour."

And I hang up, just like that. Not giving a shit that I act and sound like an asshole. I just want to get to L.A., no matter how. It's the city that has it all, or rather, the city that has her.