She turned to face him, dropping her hands, but he’d already started to back away.
“Text Lucas about dinner tomorrow. Can’t waste any time getting you out in public if you want to land your big action movie, right?” His voice was light, but laced with bitterness. He picked up his towel and started toward the door.
Irritation rippled through her. Why was it so easy for him to get under her skin?
“So I’m just going to be communicating with Lucas this whole time?”
He stopped. Turned. Shrugged.
“I’m bad with logistics. It’s easier this way.”
Grey raised her eyebrows.
“Gotcha. Sorry to inconvenience you.”
“It’s his job.”
“Maybe I should be dating him, then.”
“As long as you keep it out of the tabloids. You’d make a cute couple.”
Grey crossed her arms and set her jaw.
“Will I be getting your phone number at any point in this process?”
Ethan looked down, half shaking his head. “I don’t see why that’s necessary.”
Grey scoffed.
“We’re supposed to be madly in love and you won’t even give me your phone number? Do you resent this whole idea that much? Resent me that much? We already signed the damn contract, it’s a little late for cold feet.”
He said nothing, just raised his eyes to her with an inscrutable expression. She exhaled in frustration. “I don’t get you. You ignore me. You flirt with me. You push me away. This doesn’t have to be that complicated. Can’t we just acknowledge the weirdness of the situation and move on? Be friends, maybe? Or at least friendly? Otherwise the next six months are going to be a fucking nightmare. I don’t want that. Do you?”
He stared at her for a long moment, then slowly started back toward her. Grey had to plant herself in place to not instinctively back away.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been having…conflicting feelings about this whole thing.”
Grey snorted. “Yeah, I kinda picked up on that.”
He smiled that half smile, and she felt an involuntary flutter. “I shouldn’t take it out on you. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’d like…friends. Friends would be good.” He held out his hand, palm up. Grey looked at it, confused. Did he want to shake on it? She started to place her hand on his, but he shook his head.
“Your phone.”
Her heart leapt. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, unlocking it and opening her contacts. He tapped in his number and handed it back to her. She looked down and burst out in surprised laughter. Next to his name, he’d added a heart-eyes emoji.
“Nice touch.”
“It’s all in the details.” He turned back toward the door and walked out of the room. A moment later, he poked his head back in the doorway, grinning wickedly.
“See you tomorrow, darling.”
Are u a vegetarian
?
Or vegan
no, i’ll eat anything! not picky.
Cool
We’ll go to Carlo’s
Pick u up @ 7
Ethan’s reticence to text made sense: he wasn’t great at it. They had exchanged exactly three messages total, planning their next outing, and he was prone to replacing “you” with “u” in the manner that Gen X–adjacent men were inexplicably fond of. For some reason, the less tech-savvy a guy was, the more likely he was to text like a mid-2000s “Is Your Child Secretly Sexting?” propaganda pamphlet meant to frighten parents.
As was becoming a disturbingly frequent habit, Grey agonized over her outfit. Thankfully, Kamilah was in an accessible enough time zone with reliable enough Wi-Fi for an emergency FaceTime. Grey had filled her in as much as she could, dodging her more probing questions. She could tell Kamilah wasn’t mollified by her answers, but she took advantage of the physical distance between them to keep the conversation vague (“What? Sorry, you froze, I didn’t get that.”). As much as possible, she volleyed questions back at Kamilah, who, as always, was chock-full of adventures to update her on.
They ultimately agreed that it was best to keep it simple: slinky black minidress, delicate gold jewelry, heeled ankle boots, her hair loose and wild. She took her time applying her makeup, using a slightly heavier hand than normal. Her usual policy was to avoid lipstick in situations where there would be even the slightest chance of canoodling. Guess I don’t have to worry about that, she thought ruefully, painting her lips a vampy shade of crimson.
Their call ended abruptly when Kamilah got pulled away to deal with a malfunctioning projector emergency. As soon as she shut her laptop, her phone buzzed. She couldn’t stop her stomach from jumping a little when she saw Ethan’s name, with that damn heart eyes emoji next to it. She swiped it open, revealing a single word, no punctuation:
Here
At least he got straight to the point. She grabbed her clutch and headed out the door.
Outside, a black Bentley idled in front of her house. Grey pulled open the passenger door and started to climb in next to…a complete stranger. She froze.
“Um, sorry, I think—”
She heard Ethan chuckle from the back seat. The driver smiled.
“You must be Grey. I’m Ozzy. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the company, but you might be more comfortable in the back seat.”
Grey tried to hide how flustered she was. “Right. Thanks. Nice to meet you. I’ll just…”
She closed the door and opened the door to the back seat, thankful that the darkness camouflaged her glowing cheeks. As she slid in beside Ethan, she caught him staring at her, his mouth slightly open. She felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Was her lipstick smudged?
“What?”
He closed his mouth and swallowed. “Nothing. You look…you look nice.”
“Thanks. I feel like a rube.”
He laughed. “I guess the chivalrous thing to do would have been to get out and open the door for you. Avoid any confusion.”
She pretended to reach for the door handle again, even though the car had already started moving.
“Should we do another take? Back to one?”
He grinned. “We can just fix it in post.”
“A true professional.”
Grey looked out the window as Ozzy merged them onto the 101 toward West Hollywood. A slightly awkward silence settled between them. They weren’t in public yet, but they still had an audience. They needed to watch what they said.
Which, for now, wasn’t a problem, since they said nothing.
* * *
—
OZZY PULLED THE car up outside Carlo’s, an old-school red sauce joint and noted celebrity haunt. The restaurant was constantly swarmed with paparazzi; Audrey probably hadn’t even needed to call anyone in advance.
Ethan snuck a look at Grey, who was staring out the tinted window at the huddle of photographers with trepidation. He felt uneasy, too. What had seemed abstract last week, staring down at the contracts at Audrey’s office, was now starting to take real shape. He was about to formally reappear in public for the first time in years. He’d briefed the manager, an old friend, that they’d be there, and reserved the private dining room. All they needed to do was run the gauntlet of paps as they walked into the restaurant and then they would be home free.
He leaned over and took her hand. She looked back at him, eyes wide.
“You ready?”
She nodded.
“Okay. Wait here.”
He released her hand and got out of the car, walking around the back to open her door for her. The photographers spotted him instantly and started yelling his name, flashes popping like fireworks.