Page 30 of Wildest Dreams

I get up and grab plates while he takes out the pizza. It smells like Italian heaven and my stomach gives another roar, which makes Pierre laugh.

“Pizza cutter?” he asks, and I shake my head. He washes the knife from earlier and uses that to cut, then puts the slices on our plates. We each take one and head back to the couch.

The pizza is so good that I have a hard time being ladylike while I’m eating. Strings of cheese fall off the slice with every bite, and the basil fills my mouth with a fresh, savory flavor that makes my eyes roll back in my head.

“I could eat that whole pizza,” I say.

“That whole pizza would not fit in your tiny little stomach.”

“Wanna bet?”

I don’t eat the whole pizza, but I do have two more slices. His phone buzzes twice while we eat, and each time he looks at it without responding. I don’t bother to look to see who it is. I know it’s Marina, and I can’t help but feel a little smug. Perfect model-turned-actress Marina Breton is chasing a man who only wants me. It’s as invigorating as it is bizarre.

For the rest of the evening we cuddle on the couch, listen to music, and talk about our favorite songs, movies, and books. Turns out, he’s a total sap. Not only does he love Taylor Swift, butCasablancaandThe English Patientare his top two movies and he’s readDon Quixoteso many times he can quote passages from memory. I feel a little uncultured when I tell him my favorite movies areEasy AandLove Actually, and the only time I read is when I occasionally download a romance novel on my phone.

I don’t mention that my free time is pretty much spent streaming murder shows—that may scare him.

“Romance novels?” he says. “So, under all of that anxiety, you’re really an optimist at heart.”

“Maybe,” I answer, cuddling closer. He’s warm and, even though it’s hot outside, I welcome the closeness. It’s been a long time since I felt this comfortable with someone.

“You’re not at all what I expected,” I tell him.

“How so?” He cocks his head back and looks at me.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I thought you’d be shallow or narcissistic or something.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh, come on. You know how you look. You’re a movie star.”

“I’m just a regular guy, Kendall.” My stomach knots when he says my name.

“No,” I say. “You’re much more than that.”

PIERRE

It’s hard to leave Kendall after our dinner date. I stand at the bottom of her steps, kissing her for what feels like an hour. I could’ve stayed all night, but I know she isn’t ready for that, and I do have pre-production stuff all day Sunday.

I call Harriett on the way home. It’s late, but she is two hours behind me. I tell her all about my evening with Kendall.

“You’re getting in way over your head. I’ve never heard you talk like this about a girl.”

“I know! It’s crazy. This definitely is not what I expected to find in Alabama.”

“What happens after filming ends?”

“She wants to keep it light so we can part ways with fond memories, but I don’t know. When I’m with her, I keep picturing her in my house in Bel Air. I want her on my arm at premieres. I want her in my trailer on movie sets. I just don’t know how to make that work. I don’t think that’s what she wants.”

“It sounds like she’s not ready anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Be careful.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just enjoying it while it lasts.”

We hang up as I pull into the driveway. Once I get inside, I strip down to my underwear, brush my teeth, and lay on the covers in the bed that once was Kendall’s. It should still be Kendall’s. This was her dream house and that asshole ruined it for her.

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