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My jaw drops. “What?”
She lets out a soft laugh, and I’m relieved to see her face lose the pain that was there when we first bumped into each other. “I work in the PR department for VibeTV. I’ve been there for three years now. If you just signed the contract today, my boss will probably announce it to the team tomorrow. So, thanks for giving me the inside scoop. It almost makes up for this craptastic day.”
“Yeah, about that…I think it’s your turn to share.”
“Ugh, do I have to?”
I smirk. “’Fraid so. We had a deal.”
She looks down at her hands clasped together resting on the table, shakes her head, and then looks back up at me and tells me all about her—as she put it—craptastic day. Hearing how her ex treated her sends a fiery rage storming through my body. Even I know it’s an extreme reaction for someone I haven’t seen in years, but it takes me by such surprise there’s no way of stopping it. She doesn’t cry anymore, but her lip wobbles every so often, especially when she seems to be putting herself down. If I have to hear her call herself stupid one more time, I’m gonna shut that shit down.
Becka Edmonson is the smartest, kindest, funniest, bravest woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of women. But she’s always been at the top when it comes to women I admire.
I didn’t realize how much I missed having her in my life until now, even if we are discussing a man who clearly didn’t deserve her. I’m suddenly beyond grateful that we bumped into each other. I’ve always considered Becka a good friend, even if there was a time in my life where I wanted her to be more.
Sitting here with her is giving me something I haven’t felt in a long-ass time. The exact thing I’ve been craving. She’s not hanging out with me for my money or my fame. She’s not trying to get in my pants—not that I’d stop her if she was. But more than any of that, she knows me, like reallyknowsme.
It’s beyond refreshing to sit across from someone who knew me before, someone I know would never use me for my fame because that’s never been who she is. Becka’s never been a people user. If anything, she lets others take from her until she’s running on fumes, while she never takes back. The more she talks about Brad, the more I realize she still hasn’t found the guy who will give to her, who will fill her cup endlessly so she never questions his love or her value in his life.
That’s the type of man she needs. Not these douchebags she’s always been drawn to.
“Yeah, so that’s why I’m bawling in the middle of the day on a Wednesday—because I have terrible taste in men.” She glances behind me and points. “That’s probably the kind of guy I should be dating.”
I turn around to see who she’s pointing at. He’s tall, dark-haired, and dressed in a tailored suit, but he also reeks of pompous douchebag.
“That is most definitelynotthe kind of guy you should be dating.”
Her jaw drops, and her eyes look at me with dismay. “What do you mean? He clearly has a job and makes decent money, so he wouldn’t mooch off of me. And he’s attractive in a classic kind of way.”
“That guy is a total player and would be a complete waste of your time.”
“How do you figure? You only took one look at him.”
“Yeah, and his eyes never strayed from looking at the barista’s tits. Not to mention the faint line where a wedding band is either supposed to be or was, which tells me he’s either a cheater or recently divorced and on the rebound. Just because a man wears a tailored suit doesn’t mean he’s not a total and complete asshole. Looks can be deceiving.”
She watches the guy carefully, and I can practically see the gears in her head turning over my comments as she reevaluates him.
“Well, shit,” she says, leaning back in her chair and looking at me with a mix of awe and disappointment.
“Sorry, Becks. You need better guy-dar.”
She watches me thoughtfully. “Or maybe I just need you to help me pick out the next guy I date.”
Wait, what?
“You don’t go on tour for a few weeks, right?”
“A little over a month, yeah.”
She smiles, and if I wasn’t so taken aback by what she’s suggesting, I’d be completely dazzled by her. “Great. Then you can be my dating coach.”
“Your what now?”
“You heard me.” She leans forward, her smile wide and her eyes bright with eagerness, while she points to where the suited guy was standing. Her eyes never leave mine. “You were able to tell from one glance that Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was a hot mess express. That’s what I need. We’ll hang out like the old days, and you can help me pick out a guy who doesn’t totally suck, because I’m so fucking tired of dating assholes. Trent, please save me from the assholes.”
She holds her hands in front of her like she’s praying and pleads with her intense green eyes.
I admit it; I’m not entirely opposed to the idea, mainly because it would give me an excuse to hang out with her. And after the past few months of feeling like I’m faking it for everyone else, it would be nice to be able to just be myself with someone, without any hidden agendas.
