Jackson’s chest puffs a bit at the comment, and he brushes off an invisible piece of lint from the front of his jacket. “Good to know he’s a man of taste.”
Liz smacks his shoulder. “God, Jacks. Shut up!” His macho man façade drops in an instant and he looks adequately scolded while his features soften under her attention.
“Sorry, Lizzie baby,” he purrs.
I roll my eyes. “Right, well I should go…” I trail off, throwing my thumb over my shoulder, hoping I can escape being the third wheel in whatever this is about to turn into.
“Wait!” Liz screeches, halting my escape. “We need photographic evidence first! It’s not every night I get my little baby Isa out on the town in Hollywood glam.” She grips my wrist and tugs me behind her back in the direction of the carpet and the dozens of flashing lights from the photographers.
“Nooooo. Liz, I’m going to look like a potato next to you,” I argue, attempting to dig my feet in to avoid it.
“Too bad. You’re doing it.” She gives one firm yank, and I stumble into her side where she’s stopped on a photo marker. “And you don’t look like a potato. You look like a damn bombshell. Now, chin up and smile.”
After waytoo long taking photos, I was finally able to ditch Liz and Jackson. Entering the ballroom where the gala is hosted, it’s like being transported back in time. The entire room is all very art deco, and the décor is giving old Hollywood glamour vibes. Gilded fixtures. Geometric shapes.
My eyes scan the room from the top of the staircase as I search for familiar faces. I’m sitting at the table with the rest ofthe TV crew, but I don’t see any of them around yet. I don’t see many of the guys from the team either, but it doesn’t take long for my eyes to find Ryan’s where he’s hovering next to a table talking with someone. His lips kick up into a smirk and mine mirror his expression as the heat of a flush climbs my cheeks. I drop my eyes before things get any more obvious than I feel they already are, and make my way down the stairs.
The second my foot hits the last step, an arm is thrust out in front of me, startling me. “May I have this dance?” Cooper asks with a knowing smile. Much like everyone else, he’s cleaned up for the evening. Lean body outfitted in what I’m sure is an outrageously priced, navy-blue suit, highlighting his slate gray eyes.
I laugh. “Sure. Anything fortheCooper Lennox,” I say as I loop my arm in his and allow him to guide me to the area that’s been cordoned off as the dance floor. “Fair warning, I’m a shit dancer.”
He leans his body sideways toward me and speaks from the corner of his mouth. “Good thing I am too.”
“Oh good, this is a trainwreck waiting to happen then.”
We take up positions, mirroring what others are doing and make a swaying attempt at a dance.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he starts.
I tilt my head at him in question. “We’ve met before.”
“Well, yes. But what I mean is that it’s a pleasure to finally get to meet you underdifferentcircumstances,” he explains, placing a knowing emphasis on the word different.
“Ah, I see.” I let my eyes flick around the room to make sure there’s no one around to hear our conversation. “You mean with the fact that I’m sleeping with your best friend.”
He lifts an eyebrow in challenge. “I’d call it a bit more than sleeping with him, wouldn’t you?”
“Sure, dating, whatever you want to call it. We don’t really have a label for it.” I flap my hand around on his shoulder as I speak. Cooper stares at me in a way that makes me think I’m supposed to be seeing something in his gaze, but I can’t quite pick up on it. “What?” I ask.
“You do realize he’s pretty much in love with you, right?” he asks, expression entirely too serious for what must be a joke. Cooper goes through women at an abnormally high rate. What does he really know about love?
“What? No, he’s not.” I shake my head with a laugh. “We’ve only been whatever it is we are for like a month. And friends for maybe a month before that. No way is hein lovewith me.” I scoff at the idea. He can’t be in love with me. It’s way too soon. And we’re not even supposed to be together in the first place.
Cooper tilts his head and thinks for a second before he speaks again. “Did you know when Liz was in love with Jackson? The moment she fell. Even if she refused to admit out loud to anyone, or even to herself.”
I give it a moment of thought. “I wouldn’t say I knew it waslove, but I could tell that something was different about her. So, maybe?”
“He’s been different this season.” I start to open my mouth to respond but he speaks up again, silencing my argument. “Agooddifferent. He’s been happier. Lighter. He’s more like the version I saw of him in the early years with the Suns. I think a lot of that—honestly, probably all of it—has to do with you. I’ve never seen him in love before, so that different you say you saw in Liz? I’m pretty sure I see that in him.” With that bombshell dropped, the song trails off and another picks up in its place as Cooper releases his hold on me. “Thanks for the dance.” He shoots me a quick wink and then disappears into the crowd, leaving me with only my thoughts.
I shake them off. Cooper’s wrong. It’s too early. He’s infatuated with me, yes. That’s very clear. But Ryan’s notin lovewith me.
I turn, and as if granted a miracle from above, through the parting of the crowd, I spot the rest of my TV family at the table we’ve been assigned. I weave my way through the crowd and sidle up to table.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Annie purrs from where she’s kicked back in her seat. “Damn girl. You clean up well, Rossi.”
I drop my chin, bashful at the compliment. “Thanks. All the credit goes to my friend, really.”
“Credit or not, you look hot! I sure hope you find yourself a hot date to go home with. You deserve to let loose,” she encourages.
