Page 21 of Forced Proximity

So, I stopped crying.

I turn off the water and wipe the foggy mirror with the back of my hand. Christ. My dad’s dead and still holds power over me. I know exactly who my mother is and can’t completely cut her out. The movies, the money, the limelight … none of it protects me the way I thought it would.

Pathetic.

After getting ready, I head to the SUV with Doc. We ride in silence as I try to lift from my funk. For a week now, we’ve driven together every day. But today her coconut-scented shampoo and pinked cheeks are moving something in me. Earlier today, when she spoke about her family, I saw the surprising softness underneath her ridged exterior.

And I want more.

The SUV eases into a double-parking spot in front of the restaurant. Doc opens the door, checks the surroundings and motions for me to get out. This right here, is one of the worst parts of the bodyguard situation. ‘I don’t mind the driver opening the door for me, but it feels weird to have a woman do it,’ I say as I exit the vehicle. ‘I don’t like it.’

Doc is like a beautiful, expressionless statue. She says nothing as her chocolate-brown eyes continue to scan the sidewalks and pedestrians.

‘Seriously, what if someone gets a pic? I’d look like such an asshole.’ Not only that, I also don’t love the idea of someone mistaking Doc as my girlfriend.

No matter how beautiful she is, it doesn’t feel right. And it’s not fair to her, either.

A hefty exhale leaves her nose. ‘If it makes you feel better, next time the driver can open it for me.’

Well, holy shit. She finally agreed to something. We cross the street to my favorite local, casual diner, far away from paparazzi or tourists. On the sidewalk outside of the door, my buddy Conner turns the corner.

‘Justin! What’s up, brother?’ Conner shouts as his thick, naturally flaming red hair bounces with every happy step. He lunges toward me, but Doc immediately blocks him, holding Conner back with one arm while keeping a hand on my chest.

She’s never touched me before, except for the handshake when she first met me. I don’t know what it is, I get touched all the time. Fellow actors, fans, friends, but this feels different. Warm, almost electric, like her handprint is searing into my chest.

‘Whoa! What the hell?’ Conner says, stepping back.

I don’t want her to drop her hand from my chest, but before Doc does some sort of martial arts maneuver and takes down my former roommate, I pat her shoulder. ‘It’s okay. Conner, meet Doc, my bodyguard. Doc, this is my buddy Conner.’

‘Your bodyguard? What the fuck, bro?’ Conner laughs. ‘You have a bodyguard now? And a chick guard?’

I wince and glance at her steely dark eyes. ‘Woman, Conner. Not chick. Let’s join the twenty-first century.’

‘Whatever. Woman,’ Conner says chuckling.

Conner is not really the dick he sounds like right now. He’s more the unfiltered, says stupid shit then apologizes later, kind of guy. But I’m pretty sure even if I explained that to Doc, she wouldn’t care.

Inside the restaurant, the smell of garlic butter, freshly baked bread and sage-filled sausage floods the room. During training for a film, I follow a stupid strict diet and eliminate almost all carbs. But cheat days are my favorite, and hell if I’m saying no to the best bread in town.

At the hostess stand, Conner turns to Doc, and his gaze travels head to toe.

Hell, no. The look unleashes a surprising protective zap, and I swallow the urge to shield her from his stare.

‘Did you say “Doc”?’ Conner asks, with a side grin. ‘Is that a nickname?’

A deadpan stare meets him. This probably shouldn’t make me smile, but it does.

‘Yep.’ Doc glances at me. ‘I’ll get a table over there and stay out of your way. Enjoy your lunch.’

We follow the hostess, and I try to ignore a group of women in a corner booth not-so-discreetly filming me with their phones. This is why I don’t leave the house. Fans and paparazzi are part of the gig. I know this. The whole town knows this. And I’d be the biggest asshole in the room if I didn’t understand a million aspiring actors would give anything to change places with me. But it doesn’t take away this feeling like I’m a monkey in a zoo, where gawking people are waiting for me to perform.

‘Since when do you roll with security?’ Conner asks as he opens the menu.

‘Started last week. The team wants it.’ The entire situation still seems overzealous and no one’s giving me a straight answer. I’ll play along, for now, and chalk it up to the studio being extra cautious because of recent lawsuits. ‘There’s some lunatic mailing stuff to Zane and the studio. It’s probably nothing, but the studio’s nervous, and, well, now I have a bodyguard.’

But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a sliver of anxiety that someone is legitimately threatening me. Zane already gave me Doc’s insanely impressive credentials, and I witness her diligence firsthand every day. Why would she take such a low-risk assignment when other people are under actual threat?

Conner’s gaze travels to Doc’s table and lingers. ‘Dude, she’s hot. Like crazy hot. You hittin’ that?’