Page 38 of Never Date a Celebrity

Amelia refused to look away, well, Scarlett refused. Amelia was just following the script. “That I’m so much more than your friend, Eve. That we’ve never been friends. Not really. That you dragged me all the way over here to some cottage in the middle of nowhere to be your bridesmaid, but you don’t really want me to be your bridesmaid.”

“Why would I not want that?” Bridget whispered, her stare piercing and unwavering—she was good at intense.

“Because you don’t want to marry him,” Amelia said softly, almost pleadingly.

Bridget kept looking at her, unflinching despite the emotion building. She swiped away a tear with her finger. “He’s the person I should be with. He’s perfect for God’s sake. Exactly the type of person I knew I would end up with.”

“Okay then.” Amelia blinked a few times and nodded before she backed away. “Marry him. But stop whatever it is you’re doing with me right now, because I can’t take it anymore.” Amelia turned to walk away, but Bridget caught her arm.

“Scarlett, wait.” She pulled Amelia back. “I said he’s the person I should be with. I didn’t say he’s the person I wanted.”

Amelia slowly tilted her head up to look at her again. Bridget still hadn’t let go of her arm and pulled her closer than ever. Amelia swallowed as she gazed up into Bridget’s eyes. “Am I?”

Bridget blew out a heavy breath. “You know you are,” she whispered before pressing her lips to Amelia’s. Amelia froze for a few seconds, because Scarlett had to be momentarily shocked by what was happening. Then she responded and moved her lips against Bridget’s. She threaded her hand through Bridget’s hair like she was supposed to, while Bridget gasped into her mouth and deepened the kiss just as Amelia had been expecting her to—it was written that way in the script. That was movie kisses for you—pre-planned and mechanical. Yet, it couldn’t look mechanical. That was the tricky part. If there was a hand on a shoulder or an ass grab, the move had to be in your head at least three seconds before it happened so it came across as natural. Wait. Was Amelia meant to do an ass grab?

“Cut,” the director yelled, and they instantly pulled away. “Very nice, ladies. Take five, then we’ll go again for angles.”

Maybe not. “See, that wasn’t so scary,” Amelia said as she backed away some, unable to resist the jibe.

Bridget gave her a withering look. “I was not scared. It was fine, I guess. You were a little bit stilted, but I feel like I did a good enough job to make us look convincing.”

Amelia couldn’t resist a laugh. This woman. “Well, gee, thanks for making me look good.”

Bridget glared again at the obvious sarcasm, then her face turned menacing. “Maybe you should have imagined that I was your fancy woman. Imogen, was it?”

Now it was Amelia’s turn to glare, though she quickly forced her face back to neutral after her slip. However, Bridget’s satisfied smirk told her that she hadn’t made the correction fast enough. Amelia cursed herself, but in her defence, it was difficult not to let Bridget get under her skin.

And she certainly had not imagined Imogen while her lips were on Bridget’s. For starters, that would have been impossible because the two kisses didn’t compare. They weren’t even in the same realm of comparison. Amelia had to admit, she and Bridget did have great acting chemistry, which meant that they were able to act their kiss very well. Kisses. They had two more to do in later scenes. But actual kissing chemistry? That kind of chemistry couldn’t be faked. She and Imogen had it in spades. So, there was no way she could ever mistake kissing Bridget for kissing Imogen—not even if she tried to fool herself.

She did hope that she would get to experience some of that very real kissing chemistry again later. It was only eight more hours until Imogen was due to pick her up from her hotel, and to say Amelia couldn’t wait was an understatement. She checked the time about every five minutes.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Bridget said with a wave of her hand. “Then again, I suppose I’m enough of a fantasy myself.”

Amelia didn’t roll her eyes, but her tone sure implied it. “Yes, that must be what it is.”

“You’re very prickly lately. Trouble in paradise?” Bridget asked, her tone ironically sharp for the implication she was dishing out.

“You’re very interested in my love life,” Amelia replied in a bored tone.

“Not in the slightest,” Bridget replied like the very idea was unthinkable. “I’m only concerned about scandals that might affect the movie, and in turn, me. That’s probably why she’s with you, you know? The job. It happens to us actresses all the time, people dating us for our fame.”

“Yeah, well, we’re only getting to know each other and Imogen doesn’t know I’m famous, so…” Amelia closed her eyes and mentally kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to tell Bridget that. She hadn’t wanted to tell Bridget anything about herself, ever. So much for that plan.

“Of course she knows,” Bridget said disbelievingly.

Amelia sighed. She’d already put her foot in it, so she would have to keep talking now. “No. She really doesn’t.” She walked over to the side of the room where she’d left the few belongings she’d brought to set, mainly to get away from the conversation. Thank God they were filming inside today—the rain was pelting hard against the windowpanes.

Bridget followed her over. “You’re dating somebody who doesn’t know who you are? Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because it just happened, okay? She didn’t know, and like you said, people use us all the time, so I ran with it.” Amelia winced. “Only I’ve run with it a little too far I think.” A marathon of her own making.

“Why?” Bridget asked her with genuine bafflement. The reaction was strangely human for her.

“She hates celebrities,” Amelia mumbled.

Bridget scoffed. “Please. No one hates celebrities. They’re jealous of us or they want to be us. But they don’t hate us.”

Amelia lifted a shoulder. “Imogen does.” She wasn’t going to get into the reason why Imogen hated celebrities. She had already revealed way too much.