Page 3 of The Expiration Date

“Um, not lie about having a date, or a boyfriend for that matter.”

“She wouldn’t stop pestering me, okay?” Ever since Anna announced that she was getting married, my mom – and Anna too, I might add – asked me almost daily if I was going to bring a date. I know they are trying to distract me from what happened and trying to make me feel less alone. Ironically, it’s become a constant reminder of how alone I actually am. “I had to say something. She was driving me crazy.”

“Okay, I get it. But, girl, where are you going to find a date in two weeks? As we discussed five minutes ago, I’ve known you for three years and I’ve never seen you bring home a man or even go on dates.”

Rachel already knows why my focus has not really been on a man. Ever since my ex-fiancé dumped me, I have basically sworn off men to protect my heart from ever going through that again. Part of the reason I moved out to Los Angeles three years ago was to get away from the drama that ensued after the whole situation with Robert. There were way too many stares. Way too many whispers. Way too many memories that slapped me in my face everywhere I went. I needed to get away. I needed to find myself without someone by my side. I needed to focus on work.

“Well I’ve been a little busy. Aidan’s schedule is so insane. Especially since he has landed a lot of blockbuster roles. Managing his day-to-day has kind of consumed my life. And that’s totally fine with me. I didn’t come out here to find a boyfriend or even love. I came out to L.A. to pursue my career.”

“As a personal assistant?” Rachel jokes.

“Haha, very funny.” Rachel knows full well how much I want to pursue my dream of becoming a screenwriter. As I told my blind date last night, I want to be the next Nora Ephron. I want to write the next Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail, or even better, When Harry Met Sally. I want to revive the magic that those movies brought into my life and the lives of so many viewers over the years. In the meantime, I have to work my way up the business and play the game for a little bit. I need to establish myself and get some experience on movie sets and network with the screenwriters, directors and producers. This whole opportunity fell into my lap courtesy of Rachel. While she was working on a movie, one of the newer actors on set said he needed a personal assistant. His schedule was getting more and more hectic since he was booking more roles. I had just moved in with Rachel and was struggling to find something that had decent pay to keep up with the ridiculous rental rates that California had to offer. She said that this actor was desperate and needed to hire someone quickly who was trustworthy and not a total nutcase.

Who was that actor? None other than Aidan Stone.

AKA one of the hottest up-and-coming actors. AKA the universe’s most eligible bachelor. AKA probably the most good-looking man I’ve ever encountered in my life.

AKA my boss.

AKA off limits.

I have been working for Aidan for close to three years. I know his daily schedule like the back of my hand. I am his girl Friday in almost every aspect of his life. I coordinate every travel arrangement, book his flights, arrange transportation and any accommodations he may need (which is not many…he’s actually pretty laid-back). I manage his schedule, including any upcoming appearances and meetings. I coordinate with his agent, Chris, and his publicist, Samantha. I also work with producers and directors on behalf of Aidan. The only aspect of his life I’m not directly involved with (not that I want to be) is his love life. He was dating an actress, Natasha Davis, who is now the star of a very popular vampire series. They were together a full year, but about six months ago, she dumped him for one of her co-stars. Aidan was devastated. I think he really did love her.

It’s official.

Love sucks. Even when you are a famous movie star.

Lately, Aidan’s been dating a new woman every week, as if he’s swiping right on every single profile that pops up on a Tinder feed.

Although I work exclusively with Aidan and am basically his extra limb, I try to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible. I hide my face from paparazzi anytime they spot Aidan and me together, which is a rare occurrence anyway. I don’t want anyone to speculate anything because that would never happen. Not in a million years. I haven’t even told my friends or family who I actually work for– only Rachel knows. That would lead to too many complicated and invasive questions, and my job is to make Aidan’s life easier.

Whenever I have downtime, I work on my own romantic comedy screenplay. It’s pretty strong and I hope to pass up the ranks. I’m just not sure how to do it. Do I approach one of the screenwriters and ask them to read it? Do I chat up the producers on set? Try to find an agent? Truthfully, I am too scared to try any of that. Also, the one thing about my screenplay that I can’t quite figure out is the happily-ever-after. There is a mental block and the root of it leads back to what happened with Robert. Even though the story I’m writing is fictional, I want what the male lead does or says to win the girl back to feel real and genuine–everything that Robert ended up not being. It is hard to write about something that I haven’t experienced myself. I don’t know if I ever will.

“So, what are you going to do?” Rachel asks, breaking me out of my own head.

At that moment, my phone dings with a calendar notification:

MEETING WITH SAMANTHA & CHRIS AT 1:00 p.m.

I check the time: 12:30 p.m. It takes about thirty minutes to get to Samantha’s office.

“Um, I don’t know right now. I’ve gotta run to a meeting with Aidan’s publicist and agent. See you back home?”

“Yeah, see you later.”

As I turn to leave the set, I run right into a rock-hard body and drop my phone in the process.

3

Ihave the worst headache anyone could possibly have. My temples are pounding at an ungodly level and after looking in the mirror this morning, noticing how bloodshot my eyes were, I decided to wear my black Ray Bans to mask any indication of the night I had. I barely had time to run my hand through my hair before leaving my apartment. I haven’t touched up my beard in days. I am the walking epitome of a mountain man at this point. After getting a text from both my publicist and my agent about a meeting today, and a screenshot of a headline they both received at midnight last night, I know I’m in for it.

I am about to hit send on a text when a body slams against me, followed by an “umph.” I look down and see my personal assistant, Haley Swann, who is now bending down to pick up her phone.

“Whoa, Hales, are you, okay? Why is it that you’re always running into me?”

Her cheeks turn the slightest bit pink and I smile at the way she gets flustered.

“Oh my god, Aidan, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you there. I was just heading out to the car so we can head over to Samantha’s for your meeting with her and Chris.” She adjusts her blue-light glasses as she looks up at me.

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