All The Pretty Lights (The "A" List #1) by Tara Oakes Read Free Book Online Page A

looked when she got into the car back at the airport. I saw the effect the paps had on her. I can’t condemn her to more of that.
    Every morning, they’d be lined up on her sidewalk.
    Every time she left her house, they’d be egging her on, antagonizing her to get a reaction for the perfect picture. She’d be objectified, villainized, scrutinized,
    Her looks, how she dresses, everything.
    Well, I don’t actually have to worry about those points. She’s beautiful, gorgeous, even. From what I know of her, she’s perfect and I don’t want to take the chance that others would try and tear that apart.
    “No. That’s okay. I’ve got to get going. But it was really good to meet you, Daphne Baker.” I extend my hand to her.
    Her hand is soft, warm, smooth. I can’t help but notice how it fits perfectly inside mine.
    “It was good to meet you, too, Colton Webb.”
    I don’t know what’s coming over me. I pull her in, with her nearly falling on top of me. Her lips crash onto my own and I take them, latching on, melding our mouths to each other’s.
    She’s caught by surprise, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, I feel her lips begin to move under mine. They taste like cherry. They feel like velvet.
    I want more. But I know I can’t take more.
    I can’t help but imagine how perfect this kiss would look on camera, how most actors struggle to find the authenticity and amount of sensuality that I’m feeling. No acting coach, even the best of them, can teach you this stuff. It’s organic, it’s natural. You either have it with another person or you don’t. That’s what makes it so dangerous, so combustible.
    I have it with her. She has it with me.
    I need to get the hell out of here before this shit gets real.
     
    ~*~
    DAPHNE
     
    “Tell me again,” Lori begs.
    Ugh. I can’t go through this yet another time. I’ve given her a play by play, second by second retelling of the last twelve hours of my life. Those hours included about three for sleep, so not only am I bone tired right now, but I’m also god-smacked.
    My name is in bold letters on every gossip website. My picture is being plastered in the celebrity section of the newspaper. Sure, Colton is in the picture, too, but I’m right there next to him. If you Google my name, page after page of hits pop up. There’s a video of me in the airport this morning on YouTube.
    How does this happen?!
    Colton drove off in his chauffeured car no more than forty minutes ago. Lori popped up on my doorstep about ten minutes after that. The paparazzi showed up some time in between. Every time I push aside the drapes on my living room windows, I see the small crowd gathered below. They have their cameras at the ready. I’m trapped.
    “When do you think they’ll leave?” I ask my best friend since childhood, sitting behind me on the sofa with her laptop spread out on the coffee table. She’s been perusing every single gossip sight we can think of, and, so far, we’ve found a mention on most of them.
    I nearly spit out my coffee as she read the craziest of them all aloud.
    There was one picture from the airport where my hand was tucked inside my pocket. I know it was from nerves, scared witless at the sea of photographers swarming around. The website actually had the audacity to wonder in big, bold, letters if I was hiding a ring. A ring ! Are they out of their minds?!
    “Don’t know, Daph. Look! Charlie Radar has you on their site now! First page!” She excitedly bounces up and over to me, carrying her laptop as if it were the Holy Grail. I don’t look at it. I don’t want to see what crazy thing they’ll have to say now.
    Wait. I know ! I think to myself sarcastically. Maybe they’ve got an unflattering picture of me and they’re wondering if it’s a baby bump?
    Lori, the girl who could never be bothered to dry her hair after a shower before heading out, the girl who saves the little makeup she owns for really special occasions, the girl who thinks leggings are