Page 94 of Burn the Script

“I’ll never tell.” The beaded tassels on his vest knock together, sounding like a rattlesnake when he drops a kiss on Preston’s head and saunters off.

A furious blush clings to my friend’s cheeks when he shoves a pickle in his mouth, then speaks. “Why do you need cheering up?”

I slide my drink to the edge of the table so my mouth can reach the straw. “I’m sideways…or upside down. One of the two.”

“Been there. Would probably still be there without Victor. How are things going with him?” he asks, licking ranch dressing off his fingertips.

“Slow. He’s stingy with relationship advice, but we’ll see how tomorrow goes.”

“Give it time. Sort out what’s happening on the inside, then worry about the outside.”

I don’t have time. Graham and I have been texting again, shallow jokes and weather reports. I’d rather spoon-feed my blood to a vampire than carry on like we’re friends. It’s been over a week since I made confessions and promises, and I’ve gotten nowhere. Attempting to sew my worries away hasn’t produced results, and trampoline therapy was a bust. I even bought a self-help book about meditation but fell asleep reading it.

I capture the straw between my teeth, slurping the fizzy water. Preston and I haven’t known each other for long, and we aren’t besties yet or anything, but he’s a nice guy. An honest one, from what I’ve gathered. I could test the waters with him, feed him some vague truth bombs, and see how he responds.

Rolling my shoulders back, I clear my throat. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Swear on your brand-new relationship you’ll never utter a word of what I’m about to say.”

He lifts a hand in the air, fingers pressed together. “I swear.”

Inhaling a deep breath through my nose, I release it on a rush of words. “I was in a secret relationship with a celebrity for years. He wants to get back together and tell everyone, but I’m scared because people on the internet are assholes.”

Preston’s expression is blank while he processes the information. “Are you messing with me? It feels like you’re messing with me, but I can’t tell when you’re joking.”

“Not joking.”

“Okay.” He rubs his hands together, as if we’re planning a coup. “Is he a singer? An actor? How famous are we talking?”

“An actor.” I press a fist to my mouth.

He leans in, his voice lowering to an excited whisper. “Is it Tyler Hawthorne? Or Lorian Jones from the robot movies?”

“Neither.” My nose scrunches up. “Why would you assume I’d go for jocks?”

“But I’ve heard of him?”

“Probably, but that’s beside the point. He’s famous. I’m not.”

“Huh.” Preston shrugs off the important detail, looking thoughtful while scratching his beard. “If he’s a good person and treats you well, maybe you should give him another shot. Lots of famous people date commoners.”

I rear back, nearly spraining my neck. “I’m not a commoner. If anything, he’s the common one with the hiking and the junk drawers and the bare feet. And don’t get me started on his domestic habits. Without me, he’d wear dirty clothes and starve on a diet of fingernails. Honestly, he still needs a lot of work.”

Preston’s eyes bulge. If I had to guess, he’s wondering how he found himself trapped in a booth with someone who’s spiraling over grooming habits and household chores. I can’t help getting worked up over the state of Graham’s existence before I refined him. It was truly horrendous. I’m not sure how he survived without me. And I damn sure can’t survive without him.

Zephyr plops down beside his new beau, oblivious to my distress, and cuddles into his side. I shouldn’t be jealous, considering I’m responsible for this love match, but I’d give anything to snuggle with Graham in a pub. The night of speed dating, when he wore a disguise and we held hands, had been wonderful and long overdue.

There’s hope for me yet because I, Miguel Espinoza, no longer perish at the thought of brushing fingers in public.

After several beats of awkward silence, Zephyr asks, “Did I interrupt something private?”

I bang a fist on the table. “I’m marrying a celebrity.”

His doubtful gaze shifts from me to Preston, back and forth. “Does he know that?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”