Page 27 of Lucky 22

“Well, it’s just pizza,” I counter, playfully nudging hisshoulder with mine, even as he continues to shake his head.

“It doesn’t matter. I was raised with traditional manners,and if there is pizza—or any food tonight—I’m buying.”

Unable to help myself, I loop my arm through his and rest myhead against his biceps for just a moment as we keep walking. He’s soincredibly sweet—almost too good to be true.

We stop at a crosswalk, the red hand blinking above us.Christian leans a little closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if all we did was walk around the city tonight. Iknow you need to make an appearance at the party, and I think it’ll be fun,but…this is nice too.”

I lean my head on his arm again and can’t fight the smile.“I think so, too.” The light turns green, and we step off the curb together,the city carrying us forward for another few blocks until we finally reach thevenue.

You can almost hear the music before we even see thebuilding—bass notes humming through the sidewalk, laughter spilling out ontothe street. There’s a red carpet, and part of the area is roped off. Bouncersand PR people stand at the door, checking the guest list to make sure no onegets in who isn’t supposed to.

We pause on thecorner, and my eyes widen at the rooftop lights strung like stars above thetall, brick building. I knew the party was being held on the roof, but it’sstill such a pretty sight, even from down on the street level.

Christian gently nudges me, and I can tell he’s beenwatching my reaction. “Found it. And no pizza required.”

“Well, that sucks,” I tease. “I was kind of looking forwardto it.”

He lets out a breath as he stares up at the building. “Youready for this, Ella Rose?”

I give his biceps a quick squeeze as I nod. “Let’s do this.”

I spot a few photographers, and as Christian and I approachthe red-carpet area, we stop and pose for a few pictures.

“Hey, is that Christian Lucas?” I hear someone call out, butChristian only waves and smiles, politely acknowledging his question butavoiding the spotlight. When we step into the building, I ask him why.

“Tonight’s your night,” he replies, gently brushing a strandof hair away from my face. The touch of his hand makes me shiver ever soslightly, and I’m starting to get addicted to it.

I almost want to ask someone to pinch me because this feelsa little like a dream. Not the movie premiere, but this man. This incrediblysweet, considerate, and selfless man. I’ve dated actors, and they never missedan opportunity to promote themselves. So, the mere fact that Christian iswilling to take a metaphorical step back for me feels weird.

Nice, but weird.

Inside, the elevator smoothly carries us up with a low hum.I’m not a fan of enclosed spaces. I wouldn’t say I’m claustrophobic, but Isecretly hope it’s a quick ride to the roof. I grip the rail just a littletighter for good measure.

Christian notices my unease and steps in front of me,forcing me to focus on him—his piercing blue eyes filled with tenderness andmaybe a hint of something else. “Don’t worry, if it breaks down, I’ll keep youentertained with my questionable dance moves.”

I know he’s going for funny and distracting, but my eyesstill go wide. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” I ask with a nervouslaugh.

The doors open before he can answer, revealing the lightedrooftop filled with the buzz of voices. The smell of food drifts to us from thebuffet tables. Music plays, something lively but not too loud, and clusters ofpeople stand around chatting with glasses in hand.

Christian gestures ahead, stepping back so I can go first.“After you. Let’s make an entrance.”

I hesitate for just a beat, then walk forward, taking hishand in mine. Christian falls into step beside me, lowering his voice as if weare the only two people there. “Okay, so…what do we do first? Do we need to letanyone know you’re here? Or do we mingle?”

“Mingling is fine. We just need to make sure we say hello toa few key people,” I explain. “But we’re not in any kind of rush.” I glancearound and wave to some actors I know. “Do you want to get something to drink?Or maybe check out the buffet?”

He grins. “Or are you ready to see just how questionable mydancing is?”

“Um…I’m gonna take a hard pass onthat for now,” I say lightly, patting his chest. Our laughter mingles with themusic, light and unguarded, as we step into the glow of the party.

We weave our way through the crowd toward a bar tucked undera string of lights. I order a glass of sparkling punch, while Christian getswater with a lime wedge balanced on the rim.

When we’re a few feet away from the bar and find asemi-quiet little pocket, he raises his glass toward me. “Second date, firsttoast. Do we toast to you? The movie? The success of the movie?” He laughssoftly before his expression turns thoughtful. “I think I want to propose atoast to you. You played an awesome punk rocker, and your talent blows me away.So…to you.”

I know I’m blushing even as I whisper, “Thank you.” After wetouch glasses and drink, I’m already wondering how long we have to stay. I knowthis is where I’m supposed to be, and it’s important for me to make connectionsand promote the movie, but what I really want is to find someplace quiet so wecan just sit and talk until the sun comes up.

“Ella! There you are. I thought I saw you come in.” Mypublicist, Ava, is suddenly at my side, and we do air-kisses before she turnsand positively gushes over Christian. “Christian Lucas, look at you. No wonderElla’s friends wanted her to go out with you. I’m so glad your publicistconvinced you to make the call.”

Then she’s got her arm around me as Christian and I exchangeawkward grins.