Lose Me: (New Adult Billionaire Romance) (Broken Idols) Read online

  What have I gotten myself into?

  crazy planet

  The Lives and Loves

  All of you readers of our celebrity blog out there have been craving a little more gossip about our favorite pirate, Wes Spencer, and his lady loves, so I decided to compile a recap for you. The good, the bad and the crazy.

  Below is a list of all the ladies he’s ever been connected with (that we know of) and if we were like those people who love gossip we would say that his ‘real’ number is twice as high. But we’re not. ;)

  1. The First Love - Olivia’s Kiss

  We all remember the sweet on-screen romance between a fifteen-year-old Wes Spencer and a fourteen-year-old Olivia Kiss in the teen drama Letting Go and its tragic conclusion when Wes’ character, Morgan, was crushed to death in an earthquake. Turns out the two co-stars had started their own romance about three months before that, if the rumors are to be believed.

  2. The Tristan years - Rachel Teir

  Rachel Teir played Tristan’s first love interest in the franchise The Water Wars, where Wes Spencer played Tristan, the beloved post-apocalyptic pirate who was fighting for his country’s survival by providing the people with water in a quickly drying out planet. Teir and he were rumored to have been in a relationship for the first two years of the show. The tabloids were full of photos of them together, they were being photographed everywhere: at red-carpet events, in little bistros in France, in clubs. The relationship ended abruptly when the next love appeared in Spencer’s life and if the evil tongues are to be believed, it ended badly. But again, who really knows?

  3. The girl next door

  We never had a name for Spencer’s next love. Rumor has it, she was just a waitress, and little else is known about her. The relationship lasted an intense three months, during which Spencer mentioned his intention to retire. *Shudder*

  4. The older woman - Darla James

  Spencer’s notorious affair with an older and married (although she was talking divorce already at that point, but still) A-list actress swept through the tabloids like a tornado. He was ‘her one chance at happiness’ (according to sources) and ‘the best she ever had’. (We can believe that one.) Why did she blow it then, by reconnecting with her ex-husband a few months into their relationship? Our pirate never looked back.

  5. The model - T.J. Roberts

  Looking at those two together as they strolled the beach in Santa Monica, one wondered which one was the model, Spencer or Roberts. Definitely one of the hottest pairings we’ve ever seen, this short summer fling made for a couple of really gorgeous photo spreads.

  But that’s all that it amounted to in the end. When fall came around, Wes and T.J. went their separate ways. They still remain close friends, or so they insist. They are the same age, by the way, in case you were wondering, both twenty at the time of their romantic liaison.

  6. Triskat - Elle

  Maybe someone will disagree with me when I say that Elle Burke is the one true love of Weston Spencer’s life. Well, I don’t care.

  I’ve said it before and will say it again, I’m team Triskat forever, and although Tristan and Kat turned out to be star-crossed lovers on the show, they will be my OTP. So will Spencer and Bourke, whose romance started on the set of TWW and bled into real life in the space of two months.

  We are still holding out for their happily ever after! (It will happen, people. You read it here first.)

  7. The other woman - Chris Cley

  Yep. The popular indie singer and YouTube sensation was the other woman in the perfect relationship between Elle and Wes. Their affair was brief, but enough to send Burke into a Juliette-style meltdown.

  Wes came to his senses after seeing pictures of her pale, tear-streaked face plastered all over the media, and although they haven’t confirmed it yet, sources say that they’ve been together since.

  That’s it for Wes’ serious relationships up to now, leaving out the brief affairs or things that lasted for a month or less.

  So, tell us what you think. Have we forgotten any of the famous loves of Wes Spencer? And who else’s love life would you like to see featured on this blog’s popular column ‘Lives and Loves’?

  Answer in the comments below or write us at [email protected]

  Lissa P. Jones

  for www.crazyplanet.net

  six

  A couple of days later, it’s time for the dreaded diving sequence. Tim says he will cram it in the same day as Will’s love declaration to Lizzie, the first one, the one she rejects. Which basically means he’ll have to be in about three million different places at once, but hey, I wouldn’t put it past him. We begin early at dawn and shoot until midday.

  I dive and climb and swim and dive again and everything seems to be going smoothly, until at around twelve fifteen Tim leans over the villa’s balcony and yells at me over the megaphone to get out of the water.

  “What did I do wrong?” I ask as soon as I reach the beach, dripping.

  He’s standing on the terrace, looking down at me. “For once it’s not you,” he says, his brow furrowing. He’s in a black mood today. Lovely.

  “Who then?”

  “Our golden boy is off his game. Today of all days. He’s asked for you. Come on up,” he says curtly, nodding to an assistant to get me a robe.

  I climb the fifty steps to the villa, then walk through the spacious living-room to step out on the terrace. You can cut the air with a knife in here. Wes is frowning down at Elle, who’s seated in a corner, hiccupping, her face bathed in tears. Everything is white, from the marble floors to the décor and the lawn chairs, white and drenched in light, and I feel so out of place, I start backing up with slow steps, when Wes spots me.

  “Hey, Phelps is here!” He raises a hand in greeting, his face lighting up.

  He’s wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his hair falls over his forehead in messy blonde curls. Elle is wearing a tight cocktail dress and pumps, but no heavy makeup. They look so good next to each other, like models, exuding glam and perfection. Then I see Wes wince, bringing a hand to his cover eyes. He thinks nobody is looking at him, because everyone is occupied with Elle, fixing her makeup, telling her not to cry; even Tim is bent over her, talking to her with barely held-together gentleness. Maybe I’m the only one who notices Wes take a deep breath and ball his fists, turning his back to the set. Now that I think of it, it’s the first time ever I haven’t seen him with a drink in his hand. I remember his promise to quit, but he doesn’t look in my direction again.

  Either way, there isn’t anything for me to do here. I’m thinking of leaving, when I see Ollie in the corner. He flashes me a smile and walks straight up to me, giving me a warm hug.

  “Hey, what’s up?” he asks me, smiling, and grabs a glass of orange juice. He hands it to me and stands beside me as I sip it slowly. “Drink up,” he says. “Looks like we’ll be here a long time. They’ve been shooting the same scene since morning; I haven’t even started my own scenes. Wes can’t. . . ” he pauses, looking for the right word.

  “Seems that loverboy over there,” Tim says helpfully, coming up behind me, “has some trouble delivering his lines in a believable manner.” He shoots a glare at Wes, who jogs over.

  “Have her sit there,” Wes says to Tim calmly, “right behind the camera, where she’ll be in my line of vision. It will help, I swear. Didn’t I deliver my lines perfectly on the first day? Didn’t I?”

  “It’s not the first day anymore, loverboy.” Tim drags me to a chair unceremoniously.

  “Make up!” he calls, indicating Elle’s wet cheeks.

  Wes approaches her slowly.

  “I’m sorry Elle, it’s not your fault,” he says in a soft voice, but I’m sitting right next to her so I hear everything. “It’s me, okay? The lines, they’re just so intense, I need something to distract me. Someone who’s not. . . an actor.”

  My cheeks burn at his last words and I remember that first day I wa
s introduced to him and he called me ‘a gaffer’.

  “Okay,” he yells, not even bothering to check the script. “I’m ready! Action.”

  “That’s my line,” Tim says dryly and in a few seconds the cameras are rolling. I just sit there and Ollie drapes his arm lightly on my shoulders and squeezes.

  Wes places his hands tenderly on Elle’s arms and turns her a bit to the side. “Perfect,” he mouths to the camera crew.

  Then, shifting his gaze from Elle’s face to mine, he begins to speak. His eyes meet mine squarely and I feel acutely out of place, just sitting here in my bikini and robe, salt water drying all over me.

  “I think I’m falling in love with you, Lizzie,” Wes says softly to me, and in his voice there’s hope and fear and excitement and a tiny trace of tears. His face is transformed. “I. . . I didn’t plan it, I actually tried to fight it because your family, they’re a little. . . well, you know.” He flashes her (me) an irresistible grin, but his eyes are serious and intense. “But it’s no use. I’m going mad without you, that’s the truth. Please save me; you’re the only one who can.”

  His eyes are pleading and my heart almost breaks because tears are rolling down his cheeks for real. How is he doing it?

  “How dare you!” Elle snaps, her cheek showing red. Wes’ face turns wary and ashamed and disappointed all at once.

  He swallows. “E—excuse me?” he says, still not taking his eyes off me.

  “Are you serious? You insult me and tell me you’re falling in love with me all in one sentence! ” Elle bursts out, furious.

  “Insult you? I only said the truth. . . ” he goes all little-boy on her and it’s all I can do not to get up from my chair and hug him, because his eyes are still locked with mine.

  “You d—Oh, what’s my line?” Elle whines, and Tim yells “cut!”

  The silence swells for a moment, as we all wait for the verdict, hardly breathing. Finally, Tim speaks. “Spencer, you bloody genius,” he says, “it was perrrrrfect!” He falls on Wes, hugging him, and his voice shakes. “You do this to me every time,” he complains, “I despise you, you know. Print,” he calls to the general direction of the cameras.

  Wes, laughing, pats him on the back. “I know,” he says, “I know.”

  Then he lifts a finger to wipe the tears from his cheeks and his gaze meets mine—for real this time. “Thanks,” he mouths to me, no sound coming out, and I nod. He turns away, abruptly, his eyes filling with clouds once more.

  For some stupid reason I feel like crying, too.

  They finish shooting the rest of the scene within the next hour. It’s a huge fight, with both of them throwing accusations and insults to each other (great job, Jane Austen, by the way, I read the pages after Mr. Darcy’s first proposal to Elizabeth compulsively; I just couldn’t believe a classic novel could be so honest and well-worded at the same time. I loved how Lizzie stood up for herself. I think that was the moment when I decided I was proud to be working on an adaptation of this work.) So now I totally get the sparks thing Wes had tried to tell me on that first day, in Drops. The day he kissed me.

  He keeps delivering his lines to me, his eyes focused on mine as though we are the only two people in the room, and everything goes great. I hardly move for about an hour and a half, while they repeat the same thing a million times, and then Tim declares the sequence over. Everyone celebrates and there are snacks all around, but I have to continue with the diving.

  ◊◊◊

  When I get back to the beach, Coach is there, talking animatedly to Matt. After we talk about my moves for a minute, Tim comes down too, and after a bit more talking, we get into the motorboats and head for the Rubble. Three directors, five crew members and me. The cameras will stay on shore, except for two, which are mounted on rafts.

  As soon as we reach the rocks, I start climbing, with all of them watching. Lovely.

  I dive in and start climbing back up again while the cameras are being set, trying not to feel so nervous now that I’ve got an audience. Excitement is coursing through my veins, the adrenaline pumping up.

  “Ready, Ari?” Matt yells.

  Half an hour later and after the fifteenth time that Tim has yelled “again!” from his little boat, I no longer care who’s watching.

  I’m tired and cold.

  I start swimming back to the rocks, and just float for a bit, trying to work up the energy to start climbing again. Coach has left and Matt is watching me from the boat with a look of disapproval in his eyes. I guess I suck so bad that I have to do it over and over again until I get it right.

  “Hey,” a smooth voice says to me suddenly, as I lean against the Rubble, panting, before my sixteenth climb.

  I somehow missed it, but Ollie has gotten in one of the camera crew rafts, and now he’s leaning towards me with a conspiratorial smile.

  “You okay there? Don’t let Tim bully you.”

  “I’m fine, I won’t,” I tell him, smiling back.

  “Promise?” he says, grabbing my shoulder with a sun-burned hand.

  I swallow. “I’ve got to do this right,” I murmur.

  “You’re already got it perfect from where I’m standing,” he says and slides back onto the raft. “Just don’t go past your endurance point, okay? Stay safe.”

  I nod, looking away from his concerned stare. Gosh, I hope he doesn’t tell anyone I almost drowned here the other day. I’m sure that’s what he was referring to with that ‘past your endurance point’ thing. I’ve seen him surf a couple of times this past week, he’s really good. But from just being a surfer to cautioning me about water sports safety. . . ouch. I perform two more dives, and, after I come up for air the last time, my head starts aching.

  Miraculously, Tim says we’re done at exactly the moment when I feel I can’t go on anymore, so I get out of the water, trying not to let them see how badly I’m shivering, and cursing my body that has become untrustworthy.

  “You look beat,” Wes tells me with a frown as I lean my hands on my knees, breathing heavily. I hadn’t seen him on the beach, so I look up astonished.

  “Thanks, I’m good.”

  “You say it enough times, you’ll make me believe it,” he answers gruffly.

  Then he opens his arms wide, a fluffy towel stretched in them, and wraps me tightly in it, rubbing my arms vigorously.

  “I got it, thanks,” I say through chattering teeth, and he lets me go. I stumble in the sand, just as Ollie jumps onshore. Behind him, people are dragging the rafts on the sand.

  I head for the changing rooms they have quickly set up in one of the rooms of the villa to put on my clothes. No point in asking for a shower, those are just for the actors. There were a lot of extras today as well, so the pandemonium is complete. I leave as soon as I can, looking for my car, but before I’ve taken two steps, someone blocks my path; Wes’ tall frame is in my way. I lift my eyes to his face. The sun is setting behind him, painting his hair golden. His face is in the shadows, but his eyes sparkle as they search mine.

  “Have dinner with me?” he says.

  “I have a headache,” I reply, and he winces.

  “Yeah, I know.” He takes a step closer, placing a tentative hand on my arm. His fingers are shaking slightly, his touch burning my skin. “Listen.”

  He sighs, and when he speaks again his voice is rough.

  “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on with you. I don’t care at this point, all I want is to spend some time with you away from. . . all this,” he engulfs the villa and the crew with one gesture. “Besides, Ollie and Anna were talking about grabbing a bite to eat, maybe we can meet them for drinks afterwards, if that will make you more comfortable.”

  “Ollie?” I perk up.

  His expression darkens. “Yeah, fine. So, what do you say?”

  What do I say? How long can I be putting this off without looking weird? I mean, he’s actually trying to persuade me. I take a deep breath.

  “Okay.”

&nb
sp; I must not be very convincing, because the light goes out of his eyes. I hate it when that happens. Especially if it’s because of me.

  “Ari,” he sighs, “is this about Ollie?”

  “What?” I squeak.

  “I mean, not that you can’t hang with both of us, but you kinda. . . Would you rather it was just him?” He’s looking at his shoes.

  “No,” I stop him. “That’s not. . . that’s not even a thing.”

  He raises boyish eyes to mine. “No?” he asks softly.

  “No,” I say firmly.

  “Good,” he nods and turns that heart-stopping smile on me again. “So, meet me outside your house in an hour?”

  How can I possibly say no to him? “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he repeats.

  He runs his thumb along the line of my jaw and leaves.

  ◊◊◊

  He shows up at my house just as night is descending.

  I haven’t planned it too much, because after all this isn’t a date, we’re trying to be friends, right? Right.

  I’ve put on a gray, long-sleeve jersey dress over a pair of leggings and my combat boots. I let my damp hair hang around my shoulders and try not to notice how much my collarbones are protruding.

  He’s dressed in fitted black jeans, and a simple tee. He’s holding a leather jacket in his left hand, and I hope that the night gets chilly enough that I’m going to see him wearing it. His hair is damp like mine.

  I open the front door and see him there, his silhouette filling the entrance, and my breath just stops. Whoa. That’s a strong reaction to someone I thought was a douche.

  Well, a douche who saved my life. And kissed me. Twice. I want to stop fighting this attraction so badly, it’s not even funny.

  Keep it together, I tell myself as I pop a couple of aspirin into my mouth, grabbing my keys on the way out.