Page 66 of Off Script

“He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t know you very well,” Jada argued, but eventually gave in to Mikayla’s dubious glare. “Okay. He hates you, but that’s no reason to be rude. Manners, cousin.” Jada proceeded to drag Mikayla over and tapped Ren on the shoulder.

“Jada, it’s great to see you!” he enthused, then his gaze flickered over to Mikayla. “And you as well, Maya.”

“Mikayla,” her cousin corrected him, a testy edge to her voice.

“Right. Wardrobe PA. I remember,” he said.

“Not very well, apparently,” Mikayla grumbled, causing Jada to elbow her.

“Thanks so much for inviting us, Ren. Your house is amazing.” Jada took back the conversation.

“No problem. Please enjoy yourselves. Grab a drink, dance, whatever you like,” Ren said encouragingly, but soon took his leave of them to talk to someone else. Mikayla scowled after him.

“That asshole knows my name. He’s trying to piss me off.”

“And succeeding magnificently.” Jada held back a snicker as she steered Mikayla over to the bar.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear Mikayla had a thing for Ren. Mikayla always insisted she didn’t want to go anywhere near him, but whenever she did, she pulled a petulant look-at-me act that Jada found entertaining. Despite her objections, Mikayla seemed to prefer negative acknowledgment from Ren rather than having him blow her off altogether.

“Here. Lighten up and drink up, Kayla!” Jada handed her a cocktail. Mikayla took it without protest and began chatting with another PA standing next to them. Honestly, Jada wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation and she knew why. She was waiting for him. For Tristan to walk in and give her that look that set her on fire.

Right as she started to grow impatient, he strolled in. And yep, he looked at her and the flames ignited. And damn it, maybe he did give her a few butterflies, because something was flopping around inside of her as he walked toward her. Not wanting to have their meeting dissected by prying eyes, Jada moved away from Mikayla and company to go greet him.

She didn’t get the chance to stammer and be nervous because the second she was within reach, he wrapped her up in a hug and kissed her forehead.

“Missed you,” he said softly in her ear.

“You saw me yesterday.” Jada hid her smile by burying her face against his shoulder. God, he smelled good.

“So? I can still miss you.”

Jesus, forget butterflies. There was a frickin’ parakeet inside her chest, squawking like crazy. A sensation that certainly shouldn’t happen between two people who had decided to be “just friends.” Surely, the Black Women Hall of Fame would be disappointed in her continued lack of willpower when it came to this man.

“We should talk about that. The missing, and Ferris wheel kissing . . .” Jada began.

“I know, but here?”

“We should have talked about it yesterday, but I . . .”

“Didn’t want to ruin it. I know.” Tristan’s look of adoration quickly shifted as he spotted something over her shoulder.

“And someone else is going to ruin it right now.” Tristan gestured for her to follow his gaze.

Low and behold, Angela had stepped onto the scene. Judging by her swiveling head, she was looking for them. She’d come up empty, though, as Tristan grabbed Jada’s hand and steered her into another hallway. The corridor proved to be almost as rowdy as the living room, with people lining up to use the bathroom. As the noise of the crowd and the telltale sound of Angela’s demonic high heels clacking followed them, Tristan changed directions and ushered Jada up to the second level of the house.

“We can’t be up here. Ren will freak if he thinks we’re snooping,” Jada said.

“Such is the hazard of hosting a soiree. He knew that going in,” Tristan pointed out. They both jumped at the high-pitched sound of Angela’s voice coming closer.

“I saw him here a second ago!” Based off of Angela’s shriek level, she had to be nearing the foot of the stairs.

Tristan and Jada picked up their pace on the second landing and darted behind the nearest door. Their haven turned out to be a linen closet that housed Ren’s shiny white washer and dryer combo, along with numerous sheets and towels.

“You think we’re safe?” Jada asked.

“Eh, safe-ish.”

Jada couldn’t help giggling over Tristan’s triumphant smirk, but her humor dissipated as he moved in. She kept him at bay by grasping his shoulders.

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