Page 8 of Between the Lines

“Well…I thought so,” I said, trying not to breathe hard enough to smell him. “Am I wrong?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know…I just remember when you used to be excited to let me know you booked a new job. I guess I’m not in the loop anymore.”

“Shaw, last I heard, you were in an undisclosed location filming a superhero movie. Isn’t that what you got all buff for?”

A grin spread over his face, and he put a hand to his shoulder. “You think I look buff?”

“OhGod.” I laughed. “That’s really all you took from what I said?”

“Nah, that part was just hella important,” he chuckled. “But…all seriousness—why don’t you ever hit me up anymore, Ellie?”

“I…think you know why,” I told him, wrinkling my nose. “The same reasonyoudon’t hitmeup.”

“It can’t be that.”

“Why not?”

His eyes narrowed as he leaned in a bit over the table. “I don’t hityouup because you asked me not to. But I definitely haven’t made a request like that from you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, confused.

“I’m talking about that night after the awards, a few months back. You told menot to fucking talk to you. You don’t remember that?”

My eyes went wide, brain racing as I tried to recall that moment.

Idefinitelyremembered that night, when he showed up to the awards with some—gorgeous—bitch on his arm, grinningand cheesing for the cameras like anybody wanted to see that shit.

I mean, sure…everybodyelsewanted to see it, butIdid not.

I wanted her leave-out to revert.

“I…don’t remember saying that to you,” I told him.

I did, however, remember drinking enough that my brother spoke up to me about it, and I cut myself off.Maybe one drink too late.I woke up feeling very death-adjacent in Pierre’s guest room to Logan bringing me pain relievers and water.

I hadzerorecollection of getting there.

“That was months ago,” I continued. “We’ve definitely talked since then.”

He nodded. “Yes, because you texted me, and I wasn’t about to ignore you. We talked because you initiated it. I was respecting your wishes.”

“Sounds fake.”

“It ain’t fake,” he insisted, shaking his head as he sat back, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe you don’t remember that.”

“Well, it wasn’t a great night.”

“You won an award that night.”

With my ex and his new woman sitting front and center for my acceptance speech.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I wasn’t expecting to.”

“You deserved it.”

“Thank you.”

How is Stella, by the way?

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