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“The fire.”
It’s not a question, but she nods anyway. “I was going to lean forward and kiss you. But I jumped and got scared. In more ways than one.”
“Ames.” I lean my head back against the seat. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or try again?”
“A couple of the kids on the set had boyfriends and girlfriends from back home.
Watching them break up was awful. They went from talking about that person all the time and how much they missed them to telling me how I was lucky I wasn’t involved with someone outside Hollywood who didn’t get it.”
“That’s when the rule came in to play.” Right after prom, Mia had told me that she was only going to date guys in Hollywood.
“Sort of. I had two dates with a guy that wasn’t part of that scene. A friend of another actor who was on the show.”
My fist clenches in jealousy, and she reaches out, laying her hand flat on one of my hands until it relaxes.
“It sort of proved them right. No one outside of the industry understood…”
“I’d have understood,” I whisper quietly.
“Maybe,” she answers. “Maybe not.”
“I guess we’ll never know now.” I blow out a frustrated breath.
She squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Ames. We’re here now.”
I lift her hand high enough to press my lips against the back of it.
“You’re my best friend,” she responds, her eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the dash.
“And you’re mine. Always.”
“Morning,” I greet Meric the next morning when I see him standing outside my office.
“Bonjour.” He studies me for a minute. “What is the face?”
“Face? What do you mean?”
“Grincheux. Grumpy,” he clarifies. “Rough night?”
“No,” I answer.
Last night had been fine. More than fine. It had been eye-opening. How had I missed that Mia had had a crush on me? That she had come so close to telling me.? Only to lump me in with every other failed date outside of Hollywood when she’d had plenty of failed dates and relationships in Hollywood too.
“You will wrinkle with that frown,” he teases, and a smile tilts one corner of my mouth.
“Huh. Tell that to the crowd gathered in the parking lot.”
I’d gotten used to the occasional reporter after the chaos from the first week had dissipated. But suddenly, they were back with a vengeance this morning. In a cacophony of shutter clicks and shouts of my name, it was hard to make out anything else they were saying as I brushed past them to get inside.
“Crowd?” Meric goes to my window, staring out into the parking lot. “Where did they come from?”
“Hell?” I guess.
“Journalistes?”
“That would be giving them more credit than they deserve, Meric,” I correct him.
