Page 71 of Off Script

“At first. Then he pulled away and tried to blame the whole thing on me.”

Jada could tell from Mikayla’s furrowed brow that her instincts had been right. Mikayla had it bad for Ren. Whether or not it was unrequited remained to be seen. Knowing how much the tangled web of romance could torture a girl, Jada didn’t press her.

“You know what? We should all be focusing on work, Alia. Screw men, screw relationship drama. I’m going to forget all about Tristan and focus on my audition tomorrow.”

“You have an audition tomorrow? And you’re sitting here guzzling liquor?” This time Alia took the whole bottle of rum off the table and deposited it back in the kitchen.

“I’m fine!” Jada insisted. Although the room was starting to look . . . fuzzy. And sideways.

After a few more halfhearted complaints, Jada admitted (to herself, at least) that the room was spinning too much for comfort. She gave up the sauce and said good night to her loyal besties. As she was about to collapse into a deep slumber, she made sure to set her alarm for tomorrow. She was buzzed, not stupid. When she went to turn on the alert, she spotted another text from Tristan.

Tristan: Seriously, I’m sorry. What do I have to do for you to forgive me?

Against her better judgment, Jada texted back:I could forgiveyou if I wasn’t falling for you.

Then she passed out before she could consider the consequences of her message.

22

The next morning, Jada’s pounding headache brought painful clarity. Alia was right. Jada, never,never, should have chugged back sugary daiquiris like they were slushies from a local Gas N’ Go. It wasn’t as bad as the night of her video-posting folly, but it would take a lot of hydration to get her feeling right again. She had to get it together before her audition at three. When she blearily checked her phone for the time, her heart practically stopped when she saw a text notification from Tristan on the screen.

Tristan: I didn’t know you were a yam fan. It sucks that sweet potatoes are standing in our way . . .

“Yams?” Jada muttered. Glancing at their previous messages, she caught her faux pas.

Jada: I could forgive you if I wasn’t falling for yams

Holy crap! ThankGodfor misguided autocorrect. The gist of what she intended to say was there, but with the mistake, she hadn’t completely given herself away. It left her with the most common excuse.

Jada: Sorry, had a few drinks last night with the girls. Also, yams and sweet potatoes aren’t the same thing. Look it up

Three dots appeared, suggesting Tristan was trying to formulate the perfect response. They appeared, disappeared, reappeared, and then his text came through.

Tristan: Why do you know that???

She sent back the girl shrugging emoji.Too many trivianights.

Tristan: So . . . can we talk?

She wanted to say no. She wanted to remind him that things were over.

Jada: Today’s not a good day. I have my callback audition with Logan

Tristan: Nice! I do too. Still, we got to eat, right? If you come over, I’ll whip something up. Or I could come meet you

She shook her head vigorously. She most definitely didn’t want him coming over here. Too many mishaps happened when he did. At least if she met him at his place she could leave whenever she wanted.

Jada: At the risk of food poisoning . . . fine, I’ll come over. What’s your address?

Tristan gave her directions to his place in Calabasas. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far away from her place in Culver City. Nevertheless, the change in zip codes made a hell of a difference.

Jada let out a long whistle, genuinely impressed. Ren’s house might have been fantastic, but Tristan’s didn’t fall far behind in the glamorous designer homes competition. When Tristan answered the door, Jada almost lost her breath all over again. Why was he so deliciously handsome? Even in basketball shorts and a plain T-shirt he was still one of the most enticing men she’d ever met. Outfitted in a sleek, black dress for the callback, Jada felt slightly overdressed as she hesitantly stood on the threshold.

“Thanks for coming.” Her apprehension dissipated as he waved her inside.

“You did promise me food. I assume that includes coffee as well?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said as he led her into the kitchen.

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