My boy / Drew Starkey

33

Drew

I keep checking my phone like it's going to magically change. Still nothing. Kiara's lying next to me, breathing soft and steady, while my mind's a goddamn mess, trapped in some loop. Mila. That kiss. It feels like it happened five minutes ago, not months. Her lips, the taste of her—like it's still there like it's tattooed into my fucking memory. I hate that it won't leave. I feel guilty as hell, but the thoughts just won't quit. I glance at Kiara, feeling that tight knot in my chest, and then, because I can't help myself, I open the text again. Still nothing.

--

I feel like I've been awake all night, even though I know I must've passed out at some point. The last thing I remember is rechecking my phone like it's gonna magically update itself with a message from her. But, of course, it never does. I've spent hours refreshing, waiting for anything to come through. But nothing.

Kiara jumps on the bed, her little noise pulling me out of whatever kind of stupor I was in. "Good morning, baby," she says, her voice soft, like she's still half-dreaming.

"Morning," I mumble, stretching my arms, feeling the tightness in my muscles. I can't remember the last time I actually slept well.

She smiles at me, all bright-eyed and warm, like everything's perfectly fine. Like she doesn't know what's been running through my head all night.

I glance over at the window, trying to shake off the fog in my brain. "What time is it?" I ask, dragging myself to sit up.

She checks her phone and gives me a quick smile. "9:15. You slept like a baby," she says, taking my hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

Sure, I did. At least, that's what she thinks. The truth is, I slept like shit, constantly waking up to check my phone, hoping for something, some sign that maybe she cares too. But nothing came.

I nod and smile, trying to make it look natural, trying not to let the guilt show. How obvious can I be? I can't stand how fake I feel in these moments. But I'm good at hiding it.

"Yeah, I guess I did," I say, even though my mind is somewhere else entirely. It's with Mila, always with her.

She has this thing with every woman in my life—every single one of them is a threat, a potential problem. I could mention a coworker, a random girl from the coffee shop, and her eyes would narrow, and her voice would shift.

And on set? God forbid I have a female co-star. How she reacts when my character and theirs are supposed to fall in love... it's like she doesn't get that it's my job. I act. Sometimes, that means pretending to fall in love with someone else. But she can't see it that way. She thinks it's real, and no matter how much I tell her it's just acting, she doesn't buy it.

I've gotten good at blocking all that shit out, keeping her calm when I've got a role with a love interest. I've learned to keep it together—make her feel secure and seem like I'm just doing my job, nothing more. But it's exhausting, and it's starting to wear on me. Because it's not just the job anymore. It's every woman. Every glance, every conversation, every smile gets turned into something bigger than it is.

With Mila? Forget it. She already has her assumptions. Mila's just another one of them, a name that sets her off, even though she has no idea what's really going on. What she doesn't know is that it's not just acting anymore. Mila's not just a role. She's... something else. Something I can't quite shake. And it's not even like she's available—she's with Rudy now, and that makes everything even more complicated. Rudy's my best friend. I want him to be happy, especially with Mila, even if they're not dating. They're just friends with benefits, whatever the hell that means.