Page 40 of One Life to Loathe

“Yup.” I sighed. “I also had to eat two servings of it that night to prove that I didn’t really hate my grandmother’s cooking. My mother said it was my penance for being rude.”

“Did she call your father a donkey when they fought?”

“Yup. My dad knew he was in trouble whenever she unleashed the D-word.”

“Geez.” Leo reached up to press the heel of his hand to his forehead but stopped himself before he made contact. They would have to fix his makeup if he screwed it up, which meant this scene would take even longer to film.

“What about your parents?” I asked without thinking. “Were you allowed to swear?”

“My parents didn’t care what I did,” he replied. “As long as I wasn’t in their hair, they were happy.” He didn’t look at me when he said it.

Guilt that I didn’t want to feel—he really was a donkey more often than not and needed to be taken down a peg or two—flooded my stomach and rolled into a tight ball. He clearly didn’t want to talk about his parents. Even though I was curious, it wasn’t my place to dig into things he didn’t want brought up.

“Well, you’re a donkey,” I said, forcing the conversation back on track. “You say you want to be friends, but you’re a jerk. I can’t be friends with a jerk.”

“I really wasn’t trying to be a jerk. It just slipped out.”

“You should think before you speak.”

“And you shouldn’t let every little thing upset you,” he fired back. “You paint yourself as a constant victim. Not everything I say is meant to hurt you.”

It was his vehemence that shook me the most. He clearly meant what he was saying. “I don’t play the victim,” I said finally.

“You don’t play the victim as if you’re constantly being hurt by everybody around you,” he clarified. “That would make you intolerable … and you’re clearly not intolerable.”

“Thank you.” I pressed my hand to the spot above my heart. “That might be the nicest thing anybody has ever said about me. I should put that on my résumé.”

“That right there.” He bobbed his head. “You’re good at the sneaky sarcasm. You’re self-deprecating and charming most of the time, too. You just have a bug up your butt whenever I say anything about this production and act as if I’m coming after you personally.”

He leaned close. “Fun fact, Sam, people complain about work. It’s natural. I don’t mean to hurt you.” He added the next part out of nowhere. “I would never purposely hurt you.”

I opened my mouth to respond and then shut it. His words had hit home. “I’m sorry,” I said finally. It was hard for me to figure out exactly what I wanted to say. “I didn’t mean to be such a drama queen. It’s just … you say mean things.”

“I was mean to you on the plane,” he corrected. “I honestly didn’t mean to be that obnoxious. I was just … feeling sorry for myself that day. I had other stuff going on. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

The busybody in me wanted to ask what he’d been upset about.It’s not your business.I had to tell myself that three times before I could collect myself. “I need to stop holding your initial response to me against you. That’s not fair. You’ve apologized. It’s just…you’re just…”

“Handsome?” he asked on a wink.

“That is not what I was going to say.” That didn’t mean it wasn’t true. He was handsome. Like … disturbingly so. So often with stars, their good looks didn’t translate in the real world. I’d met plenty of stars who I’d always thought looked perfect. That was makeup … or camera filters. Leo, unfortunately, looked as good in person as he did on the screen.

It was annoying.

“Your attitude on the plane rubbed me the wrong way from the start,” I said finally. “It’s not your fault that I’m in this predicament, though, and I really need to stop taking it out on you. It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. I learned that at a young age.”

There was that vulnerable side of him again. I was a nurturer, so it made me want to cuddle him close, stroke his hair, and tell him everything would be okay. I didn’t, of course—that would be ridiculous—but it made me rethink my attitude.

“I think the problem is that your bad attitude—when you have it on display—mixes poorly with my bad attitude,” I admitted finally.

“I didn’t think you ever had a bad attitude,” Leo teased. “Aren’t you a sunshine girl?”

“I am. I want to look at life through rose-colored glasses. Sure, as I get older, that gets more difficult. It’s what I want, though. I want to be the sort of person who doesn’t start off a conversation by saying ‘you know what I hate?’”

Leo seemed to be intent on me as I talked. When he cocked his head to consider it, the antsy feeling came back with a vengeance. “You are that sort of person,” he said finally. “I’m the one who isn’t. I’ll do better. I’ll stop making cracks about the show.”

“And I’ll stop being such a baby when you do inadvertently make a crack. You can’t help who you are.”

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