Page 25 of One Life to Loathe

Dinner, as promised, had been delicious. I was stuffed full of lobster when I excused myself to hit the bathroom. When I exited, I almost tripped over my feet—again—but a strong set of hands stopped me from falling. Again. When I looked up, I found Leo staring down at me with unreadable eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted.

He chuckled. “It’s so nice to see you, too,” he said blandly.

I wrinkled my nose as I collected myself. “I just didn’t realize you were going to be here. Did Daisy invite you?”

“Technically, I believe I was there for the invitation,” he replied, his gaze roaming my outfit. “I didn’t really feel as if she was including me, though.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know how to respond. Making people feel unwelcome wasn’t in my wheelhouse. “We’re on the patio.” I started in that direction. “We already ate, though.”

“I’m not here to eat with you,” Leo said.

“What?” I stopped and stared.

He gestured toward the bar, to where two figures I recognized were sitting. Dexter and Chad. Obviously, they’d come from the hotel together. “We just came for a drink. I didn’t come here to hang out with you guys.”

I felt like an idiot. Of course he wasn’t here to hang out with me. Why did I even think that? “Sorry. I just… I’m a moron.”

His forehead wrinkled. “I can see why you thought I was here to hang out with you.”

“No.” I fervently shook my head. “It’s no big deal.”

“I just think it’s better if we stick to what you said this afternoon,” he said in a low voice. “We have nothing in commonand can’t be friends outside of work. That doesn’t mean we can’t respect each other on the set.”

“Absolutely.” I felt like a bobble head I was moving my head back and forth so much. “That sounds like a plan.” I was desperate to get away from him. “We’re co-stars. We’ll be pleasant but not too friendly. We don’t even have to know each other off the set. We can be strangers. We don’t even have to wave if we see each other.”

His eyes darkened. “I don’t think that’s exactly what I meant.”

I could not get away from him fast enough. This conversation was making me itchy. “It’s fine. You don’t want to know me. I don’t want to know you. We’ll just read the script, do the occasional walk through town for photos like Miles wants, and that will be it. It’s no big deal.”

I turned my back to him and strolled—or perhaps I jogged—toward the patio.

“Sam, wait,” Leo called out to my back.

I couldn’t turn around. I just needed to escape. “See you tomorrow.” With that, I put a wall down between us. If he didn’t want to know me, that was fine. I certainly didn’t want to know him either.

That would work out perfectly for both of us.

Right?

8

EIGHT

We don’t even have to know each other.

That one comment stuck with me the entire night. Sam threw it out as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

We don’t even have to know each other.

Why did it rankle me so much? I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t want to know her, for crying out loud. I didn’t want to know any of them.

I was bothered all the same.

Unlike the previous evening, however, I did not tackle my frustration with an endless string of drinks. I had two cocktails and then left Chad and Dexter to hit on some local women. I went for a walk by the water, wandered around what looked to be a community garden of some sort, and then returned to the hotel.

To sulk.

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