Sofie and the Movie Star: A Lovestruck Short Story (Lovestruck #3.5)(7)

His eyes met mine and the intensity in them made my heart beat faster. I believed him, stupid as it might be. Actor or not, I believed him. “Wow,” I whispered, completely at a loss.


He laughed, looking more like the smooth version of himself I would see in magazines and on TV. “Does that mean you’ll stay and dance with me?”

I should have probably said no. I should have probably trusted Lizzie and believed him to be a self-absorbed, insincere flirt. I should have walked back to my family and tucked this little memory away to tell people about later. The night I danced with a movie star and he called me beautiful.

Instead, I stepped a little closer into his arms. “I’ll stay.”



I danced with Jackson for an hour. At least I thought it was an hour. It was kind of hard to keep track of time with my head spinning so thoroughly. Being this close to him, the sound of his voice in my ear, the scent of him—it was overwhelming. I could study every detail of his perfect face, pick out the tiny imperfections I had never noticed on the screen. His left eye, slightly off-center. The minuscule scar beside his ear. The way his hair seemed somehow less mused when he ran his hands through it—something he did often while talking.

And talk he did. He told me all about the movie he was about to wrap, about his plans for work in the new year. Another Darkness movie was scheduled to start shooting soon, and he was both excited and slightly annoyed by it. There were so many other things he wanted to devote his time to, other projects and different characters.

Mostly I watched his face while he talked. At first he looked just the way he did in the films—I realized that this was the mask he mentioned. The smooth, perfect veneer he had to wear in public. But as he got more excited about his projects, as his hands went to his hair more frequently, flattening it out from its previous perfectly tousled finesse, I started to notice a difference in him. The public Jackson fading away to be replaced by the softer, less perfect version.

It was strange—I think I liked the less perfect version better.

And when he asked me about my life, about my job and my family, he actually seemed interested in what I had to say. He asked a million questions about my cousins and our family get-togethers, about my thoughts on the baby and my plans. When I told him how nervous I was, how terrified I was that I’d be bad at it, he smiled.

“I know we’re pretty much strangers, Sofie, but I would put a lot of money on you being a great mom.”

It was strange that a compliment like that could make me feel so much better—he was, after all, a stranger like he said. And people who knew me much better—Lizzie, my cousins, my parents—had been saying the same thing to me for months. But somehow, coming from Jackson of all people, it felt real.

My happy little bubble seemed to finally pierce when Lizzie danced past us, arms around Thomas. Both of their gazes lingered on us. Both of them looked concerned.

Jackson sighed a little, his features hardening back into the movie star facade.

“I have a feeling your cousin isn’t too happy about me dancing with you.”

I laughed. “She probably thinks you’re going to take advantage of me because I’m so star struck.”

His face hardened further. “She has good reason for thinking that.”

I felt a little cold at his words. “Really? Is that what you plan to do? Take advantage of me?”

He looked down at me, his eyes wide. “God, no. Of course not, Sofie. I just… she would have reason to think that because it’s what normally happens.”

I didn’t know how to react to that. So he was admitting to using his fame to take advantage of girls but saying he wouldn’t do that with me? “Oh,” I finally said, for lack of anything better.

Jackson sighed. “I just mean… I haven’t always handled it well. The fame thing. I’ve let myself become… shallow, I suppose. I get too carried away in the adoration and the praise. I let myself think it’s real.”

“Jackson—”

“But it’s not real,” he went on, his voice low. “If it were real, I wouldn’t feel so lonely all the damn time.”

I stared up at him, completely at a loss. He sounded so bitter. So… defeated. How was this the same man who had flashed flirty little smiles at me all night?

“I’m sorry,” I finally said, not able to handle the sadness in his eyes any more. “I’m sorry that you’re lonely. I think… people probably don’t realize how isolating your job must be. I know how much Thomas works… ”

He nodded, his expression turning hopeful. As if he thought maybe I might understand. “The work makes it hard. But even more than that… it’s the division, you know? People put you on such a pedestal. How can you ever make something real?” His gaze followed Thomas and Lizzie. “Thomas found something real in Lizzie.” He sounded… envious. Again I felt cold.


“You sound jealous,” I blurted out, expecting him to deny it. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully.

“I suppose I am.”

I thought of the recent gossip headlines regarding Jackson and Lizzie—they’d had coffee together a few weeks ago and the tabloids had all tried to paint it off as a clandestine meeting. Lizzie had laughed about it like it was the most ridiculous thing imaginable. But maybe it was only ridiculous for her…