Page 50 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

“Better?” she asks.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I lift my eyes to hers and see the concern there. “You always know how to make things better.”

Her lip tugs into a sad smile. “I’m always here for you. You know that.”

Georgia’s said that to me before. We’ve said it to each other, and I know it’s true.

But there’s something different in the way she says it this time. Something deeper.

“I know, but thanks for the reminder.” Looking into Georgia’s face—a face as familiar to me as my own—it hits me that Carly never would have let Georgia and me stay friends like we are. I would have had to choose. She made that clear on the first day of filming.

I just didn’t listen.

“She’s been seeing someone else,” I blurt out.

“What? You’re kidding!” She hands me the wine and takes the ice cream.

“Nope.” I take a long drink. Then another. “His name is Brad, and he’s a Lakers fan.”

Georgia gasps with the appropriate amount of shock and dismay. “It’s like she was trying to hurt you in the worst ways possible.”

“Exactly.”

We trade again. I dig into the ice cream and dump the whole embarrassing story on her. Carly obviously not being happy about my showing up out of the blue. The even more obvious signs I missed that she had someone in her apartment. Making us stand in the cold. Telling me I spend too much time with Georgia.

That one really gets her. “What! That jealous…twit!”

I choke on my ice cream. “Twit? Are you ninety?”

“I have to stop cursing so I don’t slip up while shooting. Less editing for Ike and the crew.” Georgia takes a long drink now. “But I have a lot of choice names for her in my head.”

“Same.” My turn for a drink.

“I’m not going to say I told you so, but she’s not good enough for you,” Georgia says around the ice cream in her mouth, then swallows. “Also…I told you so.”

I give her a gentle push, and she tips too easily into the cushy throw pillows, holding the ice cream high to keep from spilling. When she tries to sit up again, I press my hand against her shoulder. She tries to push herself up, but she’s laughing too hard to fight me.

“Zach! Let me up!”

“Not until you say sorry for the ‘I told you so.’” Without moving my hand from her shoulder, I take another drink before setting the wine on the coffee table. Then, one-handed, I wrangle the ice cream from her. “I’m waiting.”

But I made a tactical error. Without the ice cream in her hands, she’s able to roll off the couch onto the floor and crawl away. I don’t bother setting the ice cream down before I go after her. She’s still on her knees, so it doesn’t take long to catch her.

I swing my arm under her belly and scoop her up, holding her around the waist with one hand and the ice cream in the other. Her feet dangle half a foot off the ground, and her belly shakes with laughter under my arm.

“Put me down!” she squeals while kicking her legs. But she’s barefoot, so when she does make contact, her kicks are barely taps against my shins.

“You are no match for my brute strength,” I growl. “Now, apologize.”

“Never!” She squirms some more, then goes still. “You know your arm is on my boobs, right?”

I realize my forearm is touching bare flesh. Her shirt has come up, and there’s skin under my arm. And over it.Breastskin.

I quickly drop her, and then I’m the one apologizing. Not just because I feel like I’ve violated her personal space, but also because if she knew how many times I’ve thought about her…body, I would feel even worse.

Because, the fact of the matter is, Georgia has a rocking body. Doesn’t matter that she’s my best friend, I’d have to be blind not to notice her curves.

“Georgia, I didn’t mean…I’m so sorry. I would never…” I sputter a million apologies, but I can’t stop.

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