Not If I Date You First

Chapter 6

LIAM

The words on my script blur. I'm supposed to go over my lines for the scene we're filming today, but I can't concentrate. The pictures of Mia and I hit the internet hours ago—just like I knew they would. They went viral instantly. #MiamBreakup is officially trending.

God, I hate that nickname. I collapse on the couch in my dressing room, the black leather creaking beneath me. I grind my fingertips against my throbbing forehead. You'd think I'd be used to being at the center of a tabloid scandal by now, but I don't think I'll ever be comfortable with millions of people dissecting my private life.

I should probably be more upset about breaking up with my girlfriend. But after what Mia said about my dad and all of her constant drama, all I feel about our former relationship is a profound numbness. Maybe even relief.

I hear the staccato of footsteps coming down the hall and flinch, certain it's Paul on his way to fire me. They get closer, each tread reverberating like a gunshot. I hold my breath, but they pass, fading into silence until the only sound is the whir of the mini-fridge. I cover my face with my hands, scrubbing my eyes.

I've been on pins and needles all afternoon, waiting for the ax to fall. If Paul was already thinking about cutting me, I'm sure my latest media catastrophe cemented his decision.

Groaning, I push myself to my feet and trudge over to the vanity at the far end of the room, where the hair and makeup team will descend on me later. I tug the drawer handle, squinting against the soft lights surrounding the mirror, and fish around for some aspirin. I snag a water and throw back a couple of pills, almost choking as the door flies open.

It isn't Paul. It's my publicist, Julian, and my agent, Ruby. And they don't look happy.

"Are you intentionally trying to make my job more difficult?" Ruby's voice echoes through the room.

Her long, blond hair is slicked back in a tight ponytail, which strains against the frown that twists her heavily-coated, burgundy lips. She glares at me from the doorway, steel glinting in her eyes, as Julian collapses in one of the armchairs.

Shit. I was planning to deal with them later—over the phone. I didn't expect them to storm my dressing room.

"I'm sorry." I rub the back of my neck. "I wasn't thinking."

"No. You weren't," Julian snaps, throwing up his hands. "This isn't a game, Liam. They're talking about writing you off the show. Is that what you want? Because if so, I have better things to waste my time on." He scowls, deep grooves scoring tracks on either side of his mouth.

"Of course, that isn't what I want." I walk over to the couch, falling against it. I've been working on Cipher since I was fifteen years old. This show is all I have. I haven't got a family.

My mom ditched my dad's ass before I was old enough to remember her. I can't blame her for that, but I do blame her for leaving me with him. If I have any other living relatives, I'm not aware of them. And my only friends are my co-stars.

"I'll be at every press event from here on out. I swear."

Ruby pushes the door shut with a click before sitting next to me. Her face is drawn. Fine lines surround her eyes that I haven't noticed before. She looks tired and almost as stressed as I feel. She can be a cliché, smarmy talent agent, but I know she cares about my career. I haven't made things easy on her lately.

"Liam, I don't think you realize the severity of the situation. This isn't just about the press event. Your character is coming under fire."

"My character?"