Page 71 of Never Your Valentine

“I don’t know.”

“You know what says Hollywood to me? The red carpet. Wait, I’ve got it.” I’m sketching now. The red carpet is worn out, fraying on the edges. It’s rolled up in a corner like an unused yoga mat. No ropes, no stanchions. No crowds.

“I like it,” Grant says. He’s snuggled up to me now, watching me draw. He kisses my shoulder. “Put an exit sign above it.”

“Yes. That makes sense.” I’m still drawing.

“And on the inside, you say: ‘It’s impressive, unsettling, and frankly, a little rude to the rest of us.’”

My head snaps up. “No.”

“Yes. You sign it, ‘from someone who survived her own awkward phase and appreciates the hope.’”

I cover my eyes. It’s awful. And dammit, it just might work.

Grant nudges me with an elbow. “Add a p.s. Make her laugh.”

I think for a second. “p.s. Still cringing about my eighth-grade cargo pants, but some of us didn’t have stylists.”

Grant’s laughing now, but I barely hear him. I’m already making notes on my tablet. A few minutes later, the card is roughed out. It’s not sweet. It’s not safe. “She could hate this,” I say.

“She could frame it,” he counters. “Or post it online.”

“Or laugh quietly and feel superior.” My finger hovers over the delete key.

Grant folds his hand over mine and pulls my finger away. Our eyes lock. “Draw it. By hand. On your fancy paper. I dare you. Send it. I double dare you.”

“I can’t.”

“If she responds, I buy you dinner. Somewhere with cloth napkins and wines we can’t pronounce.”

My breath is bottled in my throat. I feel floaty. Unreal. “And if she doesn’t?”

He shrugs. “Then you buy me dinner.”

Grant puts his arms around me as I go back to my tablet and add a few lines to the artwork. This is sharper and more personal than anything I’ve made before. It’s also funny, like I’m making a private joke with a friend who happens to be famous. Isn’t that what I’ve kind of wanted all along? “Deal,” I say.

“Deal?”

“I’ll draw this on real cardstock and send it to her. We’ll see who pays for dinner.”

Ted Ender: You’ve been avoiding my calls

Annabelle: Correct

Ted Ender: I don’t want to harass you

Annabelle: Could have fooled me

Ted Ender: At least look at my offer? You won’t get better than mine

Annabelle: [Number blocked]

Grant: Are you home?

Annabelle: I’m at the diner playing low-stakes euchre with the ROMEOs

Grant: Have they bankrupted you yet?