Off Script (Book #1 of Lights, Camera, Romance! Series)

Chapter Three

"Jada, what the hell are you doing in here?" Tristan said. At his words, Erica looked up and noticed Jada's presence as well.

She squealed and yanked the covers up to hide.

"I-I'm sorry. Excuse me." Jada turned to run out. She'd only made it a few steps before Tristan grabbed her arm. Despite being completely nude, he was a fast runner, not letting his nakedness deter him from chasing after her.

"Wait, Jada. I can explain," Tristan said.

"You don't have to."

Jada kept her eyes decidedly away from him. She'd gotten enough of a glimpse to confirm what every other woman assumed. Tristan had a very ripped, hot body underneath all those leather jackets and worn-jeans he wore.

"Yes, I do," he said firmly. "Erica, can you give us a minute?"

The PA nodded. Wrapped up in the bed sheet, she picked her clothes up off the floor and scurried into the bathroom. Jada held back a scoff. The girl suddenly had modesty after screwing her higher-level co-worker, bleating like a sheep throughout the whole thing. Sleeping with Tristan had been unprofessional, trashy, and a stupid move. The girl clearly lacked common sense and class.

The fact that Tristan had let it happen—no, had probably initiated it—was equally disgusting. He was supposed to be a pro in this industry. He knew better than to have sex with fellow employees—during work hours, no less! Besides, he was supposed to be dating Angela. He really couldn't keep it in his pants, like everyone said! Who else was he hooking up with?

Jada got jolted out of her thoughts when Tristan shook her arm.

"Jada, are you listening?"

"No. I guess I was distracted. Still processing...could you please put some clothes on?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry."

But Tristan didn't appear sheepish. He was that comfortable with his body and being on display. However, he did let go of her and turned his back as he looked for his pants. And okay, MAYBE, Jada took a peek at his tush. Which was as perfect as the rest of him. When he turned back around, pants back in their rightful place, Jada was able to make eye contact.

"I didn't mean to barge in on you two. I was just trying to give you this. You'll need it for the scenes today." Jada held out the necklace that had been the cause of this damn catastrophe. Tristan took it from her absent-mindedly. He was more concerned with studying her reaction.

"I apologize for what you saw. I get that it's inappropriate, and I can only imagine what you must be thinking about me," Tristan said. This time he did seem embarrassed, blushing slightly.

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"It matters to me," Tristan said. The sincerity he radiated surprised her.

Jada didn't know what to say next. She didn't want to come off as a prude, but she also didn't want to strike him as some delicate girl who didn't know what a penis looked like, and fainted at the sight of one. She wanted to be poised, indifferent, above the entire debacle—but she felt undeniably flustered.

"Don't worry about me. None of this is my business."

"So you won't tell anyone?" Tristan said, the hope and relief clear on his face. It hit home for Jada. He wasn't worried about her sensibilities or his own lack of morals. He wanted to make sure she'd keep her mouth shut.

"Of course not," Jada said through gritted teeth.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Tristan reached out and squeezed her hand in gratitude. Repulsed by his selfish motives, Jada tried not to flinch at his touch.