Page 8 of Breaking Hollywood

“Mine was by accident. And I didn’t kill you.”

“Just broke my foot. And I’m not killing you.”

“But you’re purposely putting my life at risk with your cancer stick.” I jab a finger in its direction.

He puts the cigarette between his lips, leaving it there, dangling.

Dear God. He looks like James Dean or a young Marlon Brando. All beautifully bad and cool.

Ugh. Why does he have to look so good with the grossest thing in the world hanging from his mouth?

“Don’t worry, Speedy,” he says, cigarette still between his lips. “I’m sure you’re far more likely to kill yourself in your golf-cart car than die from the inhalation of my smoke.”

“Well, if I do die of lung cancer by smoke inhalation, then my death is on you.”

He takes another long drag of his cigarette and then removes it from between his lips. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, he flicks the ash out the window. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to live with it.”

Ugh. Bastard.

“Not when my pissed off ghost comes back to haunt your smoking ass, you won’t.”

“Did you just make a dirty joke, Speedy?”

I run my words back through my head, hearing them how he heard them, and my face floods with embarrassment, my cheeks burning.

“You think my ass is smoking hot?”

I have nothing, so I do what any grown woman would. I flip him the bird.

He laughs. It’s deep and sexy, and I feel it everywhere.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Take it as a no. A big fat no. Now, will you be quiet and let me drive? I’d hate to have another accident.”

I flick a glance at him and find him grinning at me.

“Sure thing, Speedy.” He winks at me. Then, he puts his cigarette between his lips and takes another drag, looking every bit the gorgeous movie star that he is.

And my girlie parts shimmy in response.

Uh-oh.

Ava

Two more cigarettes, three mints, four drinks from his hip flask, and what feels like five years later, I pull up outside of Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center.

Who knew being stuck in a car with my celebrity crush could be so painful? Especially when I was aware of every single thing he did, down to every inhalation of breath he took.

I bring the car to a stop in the patient drop-off zone.

I’ll leave it here, help Gabriel inside, and then come back out to move it to the parking lot.

I take my seat belt off at the same time as Gabriel.

I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it.

“You can just leave my car here. I’ll have Tate move it. And here’s some money for a cab back to your car.”