"Andy," he says finally, his tone light with teasing, "are you asking me out to dinner at a fancy restaurant?"
I laugh, recognizing the callback to my own reaction when he'd invited me to Villa. He's joking, but I still feel my pulse quicken.
"There's a sushi place in Long Beach that's really good. Dinner at eight nextFriday?"
I chance a glance at him. His expression shifts, his brows furrowing slightly, and a strange feeling churns in my stomach.
"Yeah, sure," he says, his voice casual.
Relief washes over me. It's done. The surprise is set, and all I have to do now is make sure everything goes according to plan.
But then he speaks again.
"Let me ask you something, though."
I freeze, bracing myself against the wind and whatever is coming next. "What?"
"You hate sushi."
I blink. "I don't remember telling you that. Ever."
"You didn't have to," he says, his voice edging toward amusement. "You ordered an ahi salad our first lunch during Relay filming, then picked out all the tuna. Like a weirdo."
I laugh nervously. "Okay, maybe, but that was back when you made me nervous—"
"And you never eat dinner at eight. You're in bed by nine every night, after reading a book. You eat at, like, five."
"I mean, sometimes I eat at eight." I try, floundering. "Like that time I was stuck in West Hollywood when the receptionist called out sick, and I didn't get home until—"
"Andy," he interrupts, his tone shifting, "what is this dinner about?"
I stand there, wind whipping my hair in every direction, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. My shoulders tense, my hands jammed deep into my pockets, as I stare at him with wide eyes.
He waits, patient but unwavering.
"I was going to surprise you with something," I admit finally.
His lips twitch, forming a faint smile. "You were going to surprise me?"
I nod.
"With what?"
I bite my cheek, shifting uncomfortably under his steady gaze. Finally, I mumble, "With... Sam. I was going to surprise you with a date with Sam. I talked to her, and patched things up. She wants to see you. She wants to talk."
His face remains completely unreadable.
"Andy, you dimwit," he says after a moment, his voice calm, "I don't want to patch things up with Sam."
My brain short-circuits.
Not only has he seen right through my plan, but he doesn't even want it.
"I thought you would. You didn't want to break up, Vince." My voice is shaky now, my breaths coming faster. God, thiswasa stupid idea. "You seemed completely devastated over losing her—"
"I was."
I frown. "Then... I don't understand."
