Sofie and the Movie Star: A Lovestruck Short Story (Lovestruck #3.5)(10)

“Then it’s a good thing my partner in crime is so low profile,” I muttered, taking his hand and following him down the hall. “It’s not like anyone would ever notice you.”

He barked out a laugh but then stopped at the end of the hall, peering around a corner. “Think there’s a back door?”

“May as well try it.”

So we picked our way down empty, dim hallways until we finally found a door leading out the alley behind the restaurant. I hesitated in the night air. It was really dark back here. Jackson seemed to take my caution as a challenge. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, puffing up his chest. “Don’t worry, Sofie. I’ll protect you.”

It was silly, the way those words made me feel. I knew he was mostly joking, that he was an actor and any of his fighting moves were probably done by stunt doubles. But even so, I felt calmer as I leaned into his chest. Like I believed him or something. Like he really could protect me.

Using his phone for direction, Jackson led the way through the ally and out to the main road. I could see the wedding party through the plate glass windows of the restaurant and was relieved when we headed in the opposite direction. It would be just my luck that one of my nosey relatives would see me sneaking off through the window. I would never live that down.

The drug store was overwhelmingly large, covering two floors. I looked to Jackson for direction but he gave me a sheepish smile. “I actually have no idea where to find wrapping paper.”

I grinned. “Let me guess—you have staff to wrap your presents for you.” He nodded, looking embarrassed, but I only laughed. “Come on, Mr. Movie Star. We can find it.”

It only took a few minutes, but in that time I was pretty sure we attracted the attention of half of the people in the shop. Jackson was looking distinctly uncomfortable, running his hands through his hair as he glanced over his shoulder. “You usually have protection when you go out in public.”

He nodded, looking genuinely scared as he eyed a trio of whispering girls at the end of the aisle. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “I can take them.”

We grabbed a few rolls of paper, tape, a pair of scissors, and some rolls of ribbon and hurried to the register. For all my swagger, I really didn’t like the idea of Jackson getting mobbed because of me. Lizzie had told me about a time she and Thomas had been unexpectedly surrounded by fans at Disneyland and it sounded terrifying.

“Almost there,” I said soothingly as we approached the register. “Just be calm.” But then the cashier took one look at Jackson and let out a scream. “Damn.”

“OhmyGod, ohmyGod!” she whimpered loudly, sounding much more like a pre-teen than the twenty-something she appeared to be. “You’re him, aren’t you?”

Everyone in the line behind us was staring, some of them standing up on tiptoes to get a better look. I could feel the unease coming off him in waves. A few of the girls who had appeared to recognize us earlier were gathering at our side, looking excited. They were also blocking our way out. This could get out of hand very fast.

“Can we just get this?” he asked, holding up the paper. “We’re in a bit of a—”

“I can’t believe this!” she yelled, clapping her hands. “I have to call Carol. And Jill! Oh my God!”

“Is there a manager we can talk to?” he asked, but his words were totally drowned out by the shriek of one of the girls joining the group blocking our path out.

“It is him!”


Jackson looked at me, wide-eyed and afraid.

“Put down some money,” I ordered. He looked confused, but complied, pulling a fifty pound note from his inner jacket pocket.

“Can I take your picture?” the cashier was asking, already holding out her phone. “Oh my God! Carol! Carol, come here!”

“Excuse me!” I yelled loudly, my voice carrying to the group of now shrieking girls that was growing by the minute. “I am in labor!”

That shut everyone up. Jackson looked at me in panic and I stepped on his foot to keep him from saying anything.

The cashier’s eyebrows went up. “You are?”

“That’s right. Um, ow!” I hunched over, holding onto Jackson’s arm. “In fact, my, uh, water might break any minute.”

The other cashier, a tired-looking middle aged man, eyed me warily. “I do not get paid enough to clean that up,” he muttered.

I straightened a little, gesturing at Jackson. “This good Samaritan has offered to take me the hospital.”

The cashier’s eyes appeared ready to pop out of her head. “He did?”

I nodded, rubbing my belly and grimacing. “So we’re going to have to go unless you want me to have the baby right here. It would probably be a big mess. And, like, there would be paperwork.”

“He’s so sweet!” one of the girls in the crowd behind us was saying. “I knew he was famous, but can you believe what a gentleman he is?”

“That’s right!” Jackson said, getting into the role of hero. “This poor woman is in need of assistance. So if you can all just let us through… ”

“Get the paper,” I muttered, doubling over in fake labor pain.

“And we’ll just take this,” he added casually, grabbing our things from the counter. “Uh, keep the change.”