Page 64 of To Love Jason Thorn

She dropped the phone next to me andgrabbed her mug from my hand.

“I’m gonna go and try to sleep thisheadache off. Thanks for the tea. Talk to you later.”

“Traitor,” I announced. “The minute youtrust someone, they turn into a traitor. All of you people are traitors!”

She closed her door without a secondglance.

Sighing, I steeled myself and reached formy phone.

“Hello?”

“Who is the traitor?” Jason asked in anamused tone.

“All my friends,” I replied tiredly. Iclosed my eyes, letting my heart do its own thing and flutter at the sound ofhis soft yet still rumbly voice.

He chuckled. “How are you doing, Olive?”

“Still breathing, so that’s something.”

“You weren’t that drunk yesterday.Still got a hangover?”

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.I’m just having trouble writing.”

“Hmmm. Did you see the photos? Is that whyyou can’t write?”

I thought about pretending I had no ideawhat he was talking about, but in the end, I didn’t think I could wing it.

“Yeah, Lucy showed them to me thismorning,” I admitted.

“Are you angry at me?”

I frowned and took a sip of my tea. “Whywould I be angry at you?”

“For the things they wrote in the article,and well, getting photographed with me. It’s become a part of my life so I’m usedto not having any privacy, but you didn’t ask to be plastered all over theinternet. Did you talk to your parents? Did they see them?”

“Yeah, no. I’m hoping they won’t comeacross them. And if they do…well, it was nothing after all, right? I’m surethey already know that. It’s not like we are having a secret relationship likethey are saying.”

“Right.”

Drawing my legs up, I rested the mug on myknee. “And, hey, at least they said I was beautiful in the article. That has tobe good for my ego, right?” I laughed awkwardly. After all, it had felt good tobe called beautiful, especially when standing next to Jason.

“Of course you are beautiful, Olive. Youdon’t need to hear it from the tabloids to believe that.”

I pretty much melted and became one withthe couch.

“Thank you,” I mumbled when I could formwords. “Are you angry at me?” I asked when there was a gap of silence.

“Angry at you? Why the hell would I beangry at you?”

“I don’t know.” I leaned forward and putthe mug on the small coffee table. “After all that other…stuff that came out,maybe you didn’t want to be seen with…hell, I don’t know.” Silently, I hit myforehead with the palm of my hand…and then hit it again.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not angry at you.”

Sweetheart?

Melted for the second time.

“Now that we’ve established that neitherone of us is angry with the other, I wanted to ask you out to dinner,” he said.

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