Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy Read online

  Her hands grip my shirt even tighter, and between one breath and the next, her lips are on mine. A sweet, delicious, painful crash of our mouths.

  She moans, and I deepen the kiss further, slipping my tongue into her mouth and really kissing her the way I want to fucking kiss her.

  Goddamn, Birdie, you taste so good.

  And she only responds in eagerness, digging her nails into my upper back before wrapping her arms around my neck to keep me there, keep us there.

  I reach down and grip her perfect ass and lift her until her legs wrap around my waist, and she moans again, kissing me harder, deeper, more erratically.

  Fuck me.

  She tastes like honey and spice, and a fire ignites inside my veins.

  Shit, Birdie. You make me crazy.

  I grip her ass tighter, pulling her body against mine and—

  “Cut!” a voice shouts in the distance, but it takes my mind a good five seconds to compute what it even means. “Cut!”

  Oh, cut. As in, the scene.

  Birdie pulls her mouth away from mine and just kind of stares at me, and I have to blink several times to fully come back to reality. Eventually, I gently release my hold on her body and help her back to her feet.

  “Wow.” Howie’s voice fills my ears. “Just…wow.”

  “It’s like their audition all over again,” Serena muses, and Howie chuckles.

  “It’s fucking perfect.”

  Birdie breaks our eye contact when Maureen from hair and makeup steps up to wrap a robe around her now wet clothes, and I just kind of stand there for a long moment, trying to get my bearings.

  What was that?

  One minute, I was ready to film a scene. The next, I didn’t even know where in the hell I was.

  All this desire to fuck your costar is really starting to mess with your head, bro…

  Jesus Christ. Tell me about it.

  Birdie

  I wish I could say that I absolutely hated, loathed, freaking despised kissing Andrew Watson during filming this morning, but the HR department of my fictional Mental Health Company has been giving me demerits for lying.

  The truth is, I loved it.

  The man has nice, full, soft lips, minty-fresh breath, and it’s well established that his dental hygiene is on point.

  So what, I felt the scene so much that I got a little lost in it? Big deal. Isn’t that what an actor is supposed to do? Shouldn’t it be a good thing that I don’t completely detest the scenes that involve kissing my asshole costar? At least when his sarcastic, egotistical mouth is otherwise occupied, I can tolerate him.

  And just because I obtained a teeny tiny amount of enjoyment out of kissing him during that scene doesn’t mean I’m going to do something insane like rip off my panties and ask him to sign my underwear or bang my brains out.

  I might be on a year—or, holy shit, is it a year and a half?—long sex drought, but the day I have sex with that bastard is the day someone should lock me away in a padded room and make me think about what I’ve done.

  I haven’t chosen a revirginization of my vagina or taken an oath of abstinence; I’ve just been super busy. Honestly, at this point in my life, being single feels like it’s slowly becoming a part of my identity. My priorities revolve around my career, my friends, my family—Billie—and the very occasional me-time. And, trust me, that keeps me busy enough.

  Hell, what would I even do with a boyfriend right now? Water it? Take it for daily walks? Am I supposed to feed a boyfriend???

  It doesn’t matter. What matters is that while I may have loved the kiss, I know enough to hate that I loved it. I mean, it’s possible to hate the player while still loving the game, isn’t it?

  The only sex I’ll ever be having with Mr. Ego is fake, scripted sex in front of a camera, so I might as well enjoy whatever pleasure I can get from our forced interactions. I might have to consider a hot one-night stand with a handsome stranger or, at the very least, carve out more time in my schedule for masturbation to curb my enthusiasm a little, but I can give myself this little concession.

  Thankfully, a sex scene with my costar is not on the agenda today, and I will have a little more time to fully wrap my mind around the concept of compartmentalization.

  Hallelujah!

  Once we finished filming Scene 32, I was led into one of the hair and makeup trailers to get the fake rain dried out of my hair and my makeup reapplied. The next order of business will be a scene revolving around Arizona and her band.

  “Oh my God, Cara,” Tawny Rose mutters on a heavy sigh as she looks up from the screen of her phone and into the vanity mirror. She assesses her reflection with scrutinizing eyes and a sour mouth. “Are you trying to make me look horrible today? This eye makeup is not going to cut it.”

  Cara, Tawny’s designated hair and makeup stylist, offers a neutral smile. “I’ve been given strict instructions to make Delilah’s makeup look over the top. It’s part of her character.”

  “Well, it looks like total shit,” Tawny hisses. “It’s embarrassing, to be honest. No way I’m going to get in front of the cameras looking like this.”

  Sheesh. Diva, much?

  While Cara works on Tawny’s hair and makeup, Maureen continues to work on mine, and I don’t miss the discreet looks they give each other over Tawny’s little temper tantrum.

  Frankly, I don’t really understand what she’s so pissed about. Her lips look full and luscious, her eyes are smoky and catlike, and the contouring Cara worked on for a good fifteen minutes has only made the beautiful actress more stunning.

  “This is exactly what Howie wants, Tawny.”

  “Well, then maybe you should call his ass in here so I can tell him he’s fucking wrong,” she scolds, venom dripping from her lips.

  “I think you look really pretty,” I offer, trying to smooth out the tension, but it’s apparently useless.

  “If you think this looks pretty, then you’re fucking clueless,” Tawny snaps back, her eyes never leaving the screen of her phone.

  Oh boy. This woman is my costar, the one who is playing my best friend in the movie. I hope to God she’s just having a bad day and isn’t like this all the freaking time. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure our working relationship will prove to be quite the challenge.

  “Someone better fix this right fucking now,” she adds. “Or else I’m going to lose it.”

  Pretty sure you might already be losing it, sweetie…

  Cara looks up toward the ceiling and inhales a deep breath before setting down the brush in her hand on the vanity counter and grabbing her phone. “I’ll try to get Howie in here.”

  “You better do more than try,” Tawny calls out as Cara walks away from the vanity stand and out of the trailer.

  Okay, so maybe she’s having a really, really bad day?

  Maureen grabs a hair-dryer and starts carefully drying my long blond locks, and even with the loud whooshing sounds of air being pushed out near my ears, I can still hear the moment Tawny starts her current phone call.

  “Lydia, where the hell are you?” she snaps into the receiver. “I’m sitting here with a woman who shouldn’t be allowed to do hair and makeup making me look like shit, and you’re nowhere to be found… Yeah… So?… Well, forget about the fucking coffee and get in here and fix this!”

  Yeah, I’m starting to think this is just her norm—a pretentious diva with a huge, privileged stick up her ass.

  Thankfully, my phone buzzes in my lap, and I look down to find a text in my group chat with Rocky and Billie. Hell yes. A distraction.

  Billie: How is your first official day on set going????

  Rocky: Yes! Tell us all the things!!!

  I smile and type out a response.

  Me: Well, my first scene included kissing my jerk costar and him being his usual asshole self. And now, I’m currently in the hair and makeup trailer watching a very popular Hollywood actress have a meltdown about her hair and makeup. Which, by the way, looks really good.

 
Rocky: Welcome to Hollywood. LOL. And who is the actress?

  Me: Tawny Rose.

  Billie: Jesus, she’s a real peach. And by real peach, I mean total bitch.

  Billie calling someone a bitch is like Buddha calling someone an asshole. It simply doesn’t happen.

  Me: So, I take it you’ve had some run-ins with her?

  Billie: One of my very first PA jobs revolved around dealing with that awful woman. She’s never happy about anything or anyone. Always complaining. Like, literally, ALWAYS complaining.

  Rocky: I worked with her on a movie once, and she was BANANAS.

  I grin down at their messages.

  Me: So, I guess my first impression of her being a huge diva wasn’t off base, then?

  Billie: NOPE. She’s such a diva, she gives actual divas a bad name.

  Me: LOL.

  Rocky: Are you going to have scenes with her?

  Me: A few. She’s my character’s best friend.

  Rocky: Oh snap. That’s some bullshit right there.

  Me: Tell me about it.

  Billie: If it makes you feel any better, Howie is already aware she’s a problem. I’m sure he’ll have your back if she gets out of hand on set.

  “Where in the fuck is she?” Tawny’s voice fills my ears, and I look up from my phone to find her pacing the trailer.

  “I’m sure Cara will be back soon,” Maureen chimes in over the hair-dryer she’s still using on my locks. “It’s no easy feat, trying to get the director in here while he’s busy, you know, filming the movie.”

  “I don’t give a shit if he’s busy. He should know I’m a priority.” Tawny scoffs, and I can’t stop myself from letting my own personal peanut gallery in on the dramatics.

  Me: Now, she’s arguing with my hair and makeup girl about how our director should know he’s supposed to drop everything because she’s a priority.

  Rocky: Oddly enough, this is making me miss Hollywood just a teensy bit. I mean, the best people watching revolved around witnessing actresses like Tawny have meltdowns. Feel free to send video clips of her temper tantrums my way. Harrison just taught me to do edits for TikTok. I’ll keep this one to myself, though, promise.

  Billie: LOL. Why does Harrison know how to TikTok?

  Rocky: It doesn’t matter. Let’s focus on the footage.

  Me: Very funny. Like I’d even risk recording her. She’s like the Regina George of Hollywood. No doubt, I’d face some kind of evil retribution.

  Billie: So, other than your diva costar throwing a shit fit, everything’s going well?

  Me: Yeah. So far, so good.

  Clearly, having to deal with Andrew isn’t exactly my favorite thing in the world, and dear God, he makes me so freaking mad pretty much all the time, but right now, while I’m sitting in this trailer and he’s nowhere to be found, I feel good.

  Great, even. I’m already halfway through my first day on set, and I haven’t screwed anything up or resorted to any sort of violence. All in all, I’d say that’s a win.

  Now, Tawny Rose, on the other hand, I think she’d strongly disagree that this day is going well.

  Fortunately, when Maureen finishes with my hair and starts touching up my makeup, Tawny gets tired of waiting for Cara to get back and storms out of the trailer on the warpath. And the last words that leave her lips are “Fuck this!”

  Once she’s gone, Maureen lets out a deep sigh. “Man, she’s a real joy to be around, huh?”

  I grin at her in the reflection of the vanity mirror. “Yeah.” I snort. “A true gem.”

  “Poor Cara is going to have to deal with her bullshit for the next several weeks. I’m torn between feeling bad for her but also thankful that awful woman is not my problem on this movie.”

  “Have you ever worked with her before?” I ask, and Maureen flashes a knowing look my way.

  “Girl, you have no idea,” she answers without hesitation and pats some powder across my nose. “I have stories for days.”

  I grin at that. “That bad, huh?”

  “Whatever you’re thinking about her right now, multiply that by about a million, and you’ll get close to how bad she can be.”

  “Day-um.”

  “Exactly,” Maureen answers as she switches to my eyes, gently brushing eye shadow against one of my closed lids. “My best advice to you? If you see her, go in the other direction if you can. And when you’re stuck working with her, just take everything she says with a grain of salt and don’t feel the need to play nice if she gets out of hand. Also, if you do get the golden opportunity to smack her, hit a little harder for me.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll try to avoid the whole smacking bit, but I’ll definitely keep it all in mind.” I smirk and keep my eyes closed.

  “Knock, knock!” A male voice fills my ears, and the sound of knuckles rapping against the trailer door echoes inside the room. “Is Birdie in here?”

  “She is!” Maureen calls back.

  “Can I come in and talk to her for a minute?”

  “Sure thing!”

  The door swings open, and Maureen lifts the brush from my eyes so I can open them.

  And Johnny Johnston stands at the threshold.

  “Hey there,” he greets and flashes a friendly, warm smile my way. “I wanted to come in and see how you’re doing.”

  “How I’m doing?” I ask and lift an incredulous brow.

  “It’s your first day on set, Birdie,” he explains. “And since you seemed pretty nervous this morning, I wanted to make sure everything was going okay for you.”

  “Oh,” I respond, surprise evident in my voice. “Well, thank you. That’s really sweet. And I’m doing pretty well. So far, so good, I should say.”

  “Have you eaten anything yet?”

  I shake my head. “Haven’t had any time.”

  Normally, my assistant Samantha would be here with me and make sure I have everything I need, but she was delayed a little in Nashville because of a family emergency. Her dad is in the process of getting moved in to a nursing home, and there was no way in hell I was going to make her follow me out to LA before she felt reassured that he was all settled in.

  And Neil, my manager, had to take an important meeting with my label on my behalf, so I’m kind of a lone woman swimming in the Hollywood deep end today.

  Although, Samantha and Neil and my publicist Candy have all reached out to me several times to make sure things are going smoothly.

  “Well, are you about done in here?” he asks, and I glance toward Maureen for confirmation.

  “Ten or so minutes and she’ll be all set.”

  My eyes move back to him. “Are they waiting on me?” I ask, and fear starts to fill my belly over the idea that I’m making our director wait.

  But Johnny shakes his head. “No, we still have another forty or so minutes before we have to get on set,” he answers with a grin. “But before we go do that, I want to make sure you get something to eat.”

  “Oh, okay,” I respond with a small, thankful smile. Honestly, it’s a breath of fresh air to talk to a costar who doesn’t appear to be a huge asshole or an outrageous diva. “Yeah, sure, just give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready to grab some lunch.”

  His smile grows. “Perfect.”

  Andrew

  A sexy woman is one thing, but a snake disguised in a sexy woman’s clothing does abso-fucking-lutely nothing for me.

  “Andrew Watson,” a female voice purrs in my direction, and I look up from the plate of food I just snagged from the craft services table and into the eyes of Tawny Rose. An actress I’ve known for a while after working on a movie together several years back. “It feels like it has been forever since I’ve seen you.”

  “It’s certainly been a hot minute,” I respond, but I don’t make a move to get up from my seat. Tawny is a notorious viper in the celebrity circuit, and I’ve never really been a fan of that kind of woman, no matter how much fun they might be to play with for a few nights. She’s like a female praying mantis reinc
arnated into human form, ready to bite the heads off past lovers when she’s had her fill.

  And by fill, I mean, obtained as much fame, notoriety, and material things as she can get before she feels the need to find her next victim.

  It’s all a game to women like Tawny Rose. And every person she yanks into her orbit serves some sort of superficial purpose.

  “You know,” she says and sits down beside me, dramatically crossing her legs so that her foot brushes the material of my jeans, batting her eyelashes in my direction. “I was sad after we did that movie together and you never called me. I thought we had a lot of fun together.”

  By a lot of fun, she means she tried to convince me to fuck her, and I didn’t jump at the opportunity.

  Like I said, I’m not a fan of snakes, even if the snake is objectively hot by today’s Instagram model standards.

  “Didn’t we, though?” she asks, her voice still purring like a fucking kitten. “Have a lot of fun together on Can’t Hold Back?”

  “Sure.” I shrug and take a bite of my grilled chicken sandwich. “It was definitely a great group of actors, and the movie did well when it released.”

  “But I’m not talking about on set, Andrew,” she says with knowing seduction in her voice. “I’m talking about all the fun we had off set.”

  Off set? What the fuck bullshit is she trying to spout right now?

  I lift my eyes from my plate of food, but just as I let them meet Tawny’s, I’m distracted by something behind her. Two somethings behind her, in fact.