Limes With Lipstick

'If looks could really kill,
then my profession would be staring.'

Chapter Four: Hush Now

"Here's your coffee, Mr. Leto," She said, holding it carefully with two hands. He was sitting in his makeup chair, being powered down before they applied the shadow.

Jared didn't say anything, as he stared down at his phone, scrolling through his twitter feed. She placed the cup down on the table in front of him. Just as she went to walk away, she heard him speak lowly to her, "Hold it for me."

The drink was burning hot, but sure. She picked it up and waited, "Do you want some?"

"What do you think?" He stared up at her, his expression void of any real emotion. Their short, tension filled interactions was beginning to make the stylist uncomfortable. "Bring it closer."

She brought the cup next to him and watched as he closed his mouth over the side of the lid and sipped it carefully. She was half-tempted to tilt it, so that he would burn his tongue, but she wasn't that daring. Not now, not when he was being colder than usual.

Once he was prepared for his scene, they drove out to the chosen location. It was late in the evening when they arrived. Margot Robbie's assistant was there, holding onto a big puffy jacket, ready to throw it around Margot's shoulders when each take was over. It made the assistant feel as though she should be doing something more for Jared, although he didn't appear to need it.

She grabbed a piece of paper and sharpie from the table setup behind her. Drawing was not her forte, but she gave her best attempt at a stick figure of Jared that said, 'Go, Jared, go!' on it. It wasn't like she was attending his soccer game, but it was better than doing nothing. She held it up, gaining a majority of odd looks as a result.

"Thanks," David said, as he pointed to the sign. "I needed that today."

"Looks like you have a fan," Margot teased, as she nodded towards his assistant. The actor followed the direction of her gesture and narrowed his eyes. What the hell was she doing?

"Alright, so the writers would like to try a new approach. Harley, you're going to kiss the Joker, but your intention is to steal the gun from his holster, and then you're going to point it at him." David Ayer moved between them, using his hands to help further explain how their chemistry worked. It looked like a goddamn tornado, which she guessed accurately summed up their relationship."Guy comes up, Harley you shoot him, and Joker – you will take the gun back. If this doesn't seem right, we'll go back to the original piece."

It was when 'action' was called, that she had begun holding in her breath. She lowered the sign with a sense of dejection. Watching Jared perform was one thing, but seeing him act was something else entirely. The two actors were both visually stunning, made up to perfection, so deep within their characters. They stared at each other as deranged lovers might. You could never be sure on what would happen between them, violence, betrayal, or brief bouts of sweetness.

The actress moved in closer to him, running her hands up along his neck. Her breath caught in her throat. He stood still, as would the character he was playing, as she pressed her lips against his own. "More!" David shouted, encouraging them. Jared's auto response was to please, as he grabbed her by her hair and crushed their mouths together. There was a flash of his tongue, his red lipstick smearing, as he kissed her roughly. Cannot breathe – her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear it in her ears.

'Why am I like this…?' She thought to herself, as the paper fell from her fingers. Her breathing quickened, as she started to hyperventilate. She had no idea as to why she was panicking. All she did know was that she needed to leave, immediately, before she made a damn fool out of herself, again. She grabbed her bag and hurried out to the car. Last thing she needed was to distract him or anyone else for that matter.

She closed the driver door and dug through her bag, finding her bottle of valium, and chased down half a pill with water. It would start to kick in soon enough. She placed her hands down at her sides, counting in her head, and thought of home. There were scarier things in this world, than a panic attack.

What used to frighten her was the sky, of all things.

'The sky is not going to fall,' a voice used to tell her. It was sweet and soft. She believed the boy when he said it. Was he just a mere boy? She couldn't remember. Perhaps it was that she was young and he was old. That could be why he was always right about everything.

The clouds passed by as she looked up from her spot on the grass. It was wet from the rain, the smell of it surrounding them.

'How do you know?' She asked, as she peered over at him. The grass was in the way, but she could see his head resting on the top of his arms with his legs crossed over one another. She could never see his facial features clearly though. He was only a voice, a memory, or less.

'Because nothing could ever be that perfect.'

Twenty-three year old Jared Leto, the rising star in a hit television series, was stuck babysitting some brat with cloud fears. He couldn't turn down his mother's request, since her word was law.

A loud knock on the window jolted her from her sleep. Jared was waiting outside impatiently. The scene was over and the backdoor was locked for whatever reason. He heard it click and opened the door to the backseat.

"Sorry about that," she mumbled to him, her mind still hazy from the nap. She reached forward to turn the heat on, shivering from the cold she noticed upon waking. "Would you like to head back to the hotel or to the trailer lot?"

Her question was less important, than his own, as he disregarded it, "Where were you this whole time?"

She sighed, leaning back against the seat with her eyes shut, "In the car."

"You can't leave whenever you feel like it, especially if it's to take a fucking powernap. I've fired assistants for a lot less."

He placed his ear buds in and blocked out whatever retort she could have mustered. Her absence was noticed when he'd detached himself from Margot. All he saw was the piece of paper on the ground, which was a lousy stand-in. A piece of paper couldn't fetch him cocoa.

She chose to bring him back to the hotel, helping him with his bags. She placed the makeup removal wipes she'd purchased for him on the counter in the bathroom. He was at his desk, head propped up on his hand, as he watched her flutter around the room, making sure that everything was the way he liked it. It was remarkable how much she knew about him within such little time.

"I'm going to shower and then we should eat." He could afford to be nice tonight. Eating with Jared wasn't some special occasion. She'd often sat across from him during dinner, whether it was at a restaurant, in the car, or backstage at one of his shows.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he was clean. The makeup had come off better than last night. He wore a pair of fitted jeans and a baggy sleeveless shirt. He enjoyed showing off his body, since he was back to being built. She couldn't stop staring at the tone in his ribs or the tattoos on his arms.

This time he chose to dine at a local pizza place on the boulevard that was swarming with people. The hat he wore did nothing to hide his bright green hair and he refused to have her run inside to grab the food. No, the actor was going to delight in her discomfort. Jared stepped out of the car when it stopped. He handled each moment with zero precaution, as he waltzed inside the restaurant.

He sat himself over by the window and removed his sunglasses. There was a candle at the center of the table and the sounds of Albachiara playing on the radio could be heard. Yes, he'd found the cheesiest Italian joint in Toronto. She caught up to him, unable to keep the glare from off her face. He pretended not to notice, as he held up a menu and skimmed over their small selection of vegan pizzas.

A waitress walked over with her pen and scratchpad, "My name is Natalia and I'll be your waitress for this evening. Are you guys ready to order?"

"Natalia," Jared said, testing the name upon his lips. He might as well have just moaned it with the affect it had on the poor girl. "That's a lovely name. I think I'll have a personal vegan pie and an Honest Tea."

She smiled at him, cheeks flushed, "Sure thing."

The assistant stared between them for what seemed like forever. It didn't appear as though the waitress would look away from him anytime soon. This must be that 'thrall' thing that Gee was talking about. She cleared her throat.

"I'll have a burger." Because fuck his vegan ways. The waitress turned on her heel with a hint of reluctance and placed the order in. His assistant looked at him, seriously, "You're making it difficult for me to protect you."

"I'm not sure if you know this, so I'm going to clue you in." He lowered his tone and spoke from behind his hand, blue eyes flashing playfully, "You're not a bodyguard."

"That may be true, but I can still care for your wellbeing and right now, you're being careless." It made her weary. She'd seen how his fan reacted with crowd control and she wasn't at all confident that she could keep him safe.

"I think things are going pretty smoothly." He said, as he eyed the waitress, enjoying the way she was bent over the counter to speak to the chef. The actor touched his tongue to the corner of his mouth. "I might ask you to leave at some point. Besides, I'm sure that you would love to get away from me."

"So, that you can sleep with her? That's a great idea. You should capitalize on that. Do you have condoms or should I run out and get some for you?" She deadpanned, not really caring much for whatever consequences talking back to him would ensue. "How old is she, like, five? Be sure to ID her at the door."

She took out her purse and placed down ten dollars worth of Canadian currency. "I haven't known you for very long, but already I want to tell you to grow up. Peter Pan syndrome gets old real quick and one day, when it's too late, you'll realize that you're alone."

She collected her things and left him there. Her heels clacked loudly against the sidewalk. It was late, cold, and dark. The streetlights did little to illuminate her surroundings and most of the shops were closed for the night. Maybe she should submit her resignation letter and return home, because this sure as hell wasn't working for them.

She heard the customer bell, alerting her that someone either left or walked into the pizzeria. She had no interest in seeing if it was him or not. She shouldn't willingly try and hold hands with a loveless asshole. All the signs were there. Jared was an actor, singer, and a philanthropist – all of these accomplishments being red flags.

Keep it professional she'd told herself time and time again. In the end, she wouldn't be able to, because she was not cut out for this.

A hand closed tightly around her wrist and jerked her from off the sidewalk. Jared was there, pressing her against the nearest wall with the weight of his body. She was about to yell at him, when he clamped his hand over her mouth. They were inches from each other, his eyes dark when he stared at her then.

A few moments later and a group of teenage girls walked by the alley he'd dragged her down. It was exactly what she had been afraid of happening. He removed his hand, convinced that she wouldn't make a sound that would jeopardize their position. He searched her expression and could see traces of fear.

His jaw clenched visibly, as his eyes fell to her lips. This was the same mouth that got away with cursing him on a daily basis. He pressed his hips into hers, keeping her pinned to the wall behind her, and felt her tremble. Whether it was from his closeness or the cold, he had every intention on pursuing it.

She closed her eyes when he lowered his face to hers, "Please, don't…"

He grabbed her chin between two fingers, running his thumb along her bottom lip with slow deliberateness, "Are you afraid of me?"

She nodded in response, unable to think, speak, or act. The only thing she knew in that moment was him. He smelled earthy and clean. He was impatient and demanding, but most of all, he was distant. He was far, far away in some other world, a world that she didn't belong in. And she knew that he would not commit. Jared Leto does not do girlfriends.

He was dangerous. All of her mother's warnings had come to mind. Hell, the shitty experiences from high school and college had taught her so much, and yet also nothing. The warning signs in her head were blaring off and her inner child was irate, because she knew better. She had envisioned the perfect guy many times before. He wasn't gorgeous, but he was charming. He didn't have a great job, but he was funny. He wasn't Jared Leto.

"What if I fall?" She whispered to him, knowing that questions like that were bound to scare him or any man away for that matter. She opened her eyes to find him staring back at her. He didn't seem frightened.

"You're not going to fall." The actor knew himself well enough to know that women tended to resent him. No person could love him in the state that he was in and he was in no shape to love someone wholly.

Her eyes fluttered, feeling her resolve crumble, "How do you know?"

'Because nothing could ever be that perfect,' he thought, as he leaned down the rest of the way and kissed her slowly. The warm pressure of his lips elicited a gasp, as he moved his hand to the front of her neck, keeping her still. He parted her mouth with the force of his tongue, delving in expertly against her own.

It felt like she was slipping away.

She turned her face away from him, breaking the kiss effectively. Her breathing was shallow and she felt lightheaded. Absolutely not. She shook her head at him and turned so that she was no longer close to his lips. Jared stepped away from her, until his back met the opposite wall. They sat there in silence, one of them hurt, and the other one hungry.

Now that he'd finally had a taste, he found himself starved for more.