Page 63 of Off Script

“In a way, yes. Which is why this pressure to be even more is too much.”

“Okay. I’m sorry for pressuring you. But you’ve got to know, I do get it to an extent. Yes, I grew up in L.A. with influential parents. But honestly, my family is the only reason why I didn’t end up playing a gang leader. Even with my connections, afterGarcia CentralI got offers to be a drug lord. It was either that or the sexy Latino. Big surprise which one I eventually went with, right?”

Jada laughed weakly. “Ahhh, it’s all making sense now.”

Tristan pinched her lightly at her teasing.

“Yes, I guess it just stuck after a while. But I promise, I do get it and, infuriating sexual tension or not, I will do my best to stand by the rules and my part of the deal.”

“Thank you,” Jada said. “Me too.”

Her words sent a weird flutter of hope coursing through him. Despite his hesitance, he asked the question that had been weighing on him.

“So does that mean you don’t want to end this?”

After a terrifyingly long pause, Jada shook her head. “No, I’m still in, because in a way, it’s working. But before anything else, we should try and be friends first.”

Although Tristan had sworn he wouldn’t push Jada into a fling she didn’t want, he couldn’t resist a last chance to play devil’s advocate. “You saw how that worked out inWhen Harry MetSally. . ., right?”

“Tristan, please!”

“Deal.” Tristan shook her hand. There was still so much more they could have said, but the newfound effort toward friendship forced him to easier topics. In particular, his photo-op idea.

“Since we’ve managed to bury the hatchet—not in each other’s backs this time—I was thinking we could take a picture? Something to tide over the curious masses after all that’s been going on?” Tristan asked, keeping his request light.

With their renewed alliance in place, Jada agreed. Holding up their half-eaten funnel cakes, they captured a few frames of their festival fun. Jada offered to post it first and tag Tristan. After some haggling, she settled on a caption that could push aside their naysayers:

I had a great time at the Women in Entertainment conference, but I’m so glad to be back in L.A., enjoying the Bright Futures Festival. Big props to @TristanMaxwell for introducing me to this great cause! <

After posting his own comment, a mixture of saying he loved the current company and heart emojis, Tristan put his phone away and insisted they play a few games. Out of all the potential options, the classic Whac-A-Mole booth screamed his name. He looked at Jada meaningfully.

“You know I have to, right?”

“Fine. But you better get a superhigh score. And win me that unicorn!” Jada gushed over the ugliest stuffed animal in the booth. It was hard to make a purple unicorn hideous, but they’d succeeded.

“That one? It’s totally cross-eyed!” he protested. But at her insistence, Tristan did his best. He came up a few tickets short and they chose a jester doll instead.

“Because you’re such a fool,” Jada replied when he asked her about her backup choice.

“I am not.” He scowled.

“How would you like to be Maxwell Junior? Huh?” Jada spoke to the doll, then looked up at Tristan. “He says he likes it.”

“I bet he does. So, I win you toys that you use to insult me? That’s what friends do?” Tristan asked.

“That’s what you get for missing the unicorn.”

“Why did you want that googly-eyed monster anyway?”

“It’s not a monster! Unicorns are the best. They bring hope and joy to the world.”

“Jada, you know unicorns aren’t real, right?” He eyed her skeptically.

“Obviously. But I used to think they were. Growing up, I had a whole collection of them. My grandma gave me my first one and told me stories about them. How each unicorn was special and full of magic. Believing in that made the rest of the world seem beautiful.”

“You still have those dolls, don’t you?” Tristan teased her lightly. Truthfully, the story had touched him. He could easily envision a tiny Jada enchanted by imaginary creatures. Jada blushed and whacked him on the shoulder with the jester doll.

“I did say they were collectibles, Maxwell Senior,” she pointed out. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice them when you snuck into my bathroom.”

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