Page 19 of Relationship Goals

I blow out a breath, nodding to myself.

Shadowing Michelle is a good sign that Richard Grace believes in me. Maybe even the media will take me more seriously after working with the Aces. It’s all good things.

“And I get some Italian food tonight,” I sing in my very best dramatic falsetto.

“Italian fooood,” Darren echoes in song.

“Nice. Call and response.”

He laughs. “I am so ready to be on set with you. We are going to be a complete menace. The dream team.Blood Sirenswishes they’d had us!”

“Same.” Darren being hired on as a makeup artist with the movie is just one of the many reasons I’m freaking excited to get started.

A cream-colored blouse calls my name from where it hangs in the closet. I pull it out, running my fingers over the silk. On it goes, and as soon as I finish throwing on some small gold earrings, I feel more settled.

“What do you think?” I ask, pivoting so Darren can approve my outfit.

It takes him a minute to look up. “Oh yes, trés chic, I love it.”

“Oooh,” I say approvingly. “Your French accent is so good.”

“Thank the owl,” he deadpans. “Duolingo, my lord and savior.”

I laugh, then bite my lip again. “Going out with Luke Wolfe will be good, right? He can tell me more about soccer, what it’s like to play pro, and I’ll have even more knowledge. It’s perfect.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Darren says.

“And even if he is an asshole, it will give me something else to think about,” I continue.

At the very,veryleast.

But maybe…just maybe, he won’t be the grumpy asshole I met this morning. Maybe he’ll show me that soft, squishy side, the one I just know is hiding beneath that hard shell.

The doorbell rings.

“Shit,” I breathe, my eyes wide. “He’s here!” I yell at Darren.

“Calm down. Go answer the door. Have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Darren says easily. “Bye, Abs.”

The call ends.

Adrenaline surges through me. It’s been a while since I went on a date with someone new. A long while.

I rush through the living room to answer the door, but that doesn’t stop pride bursting through me as I give the space a once-over. I bought this small house a few years ago, nothing too fancy, when I got my first steady gig as the best friend on a now canceled sitcom. Built in the twenties, the small Spanish-style bungalow is full of charm, with white walls and dark wood beams crossing the space. It’s in a gated community, too, something Jean insisted on when I was looking for a house, and I’m thankful now for her cynicism, even if it means I have to give the security there any visitor information…like Luke Wolfe’s.

The security team was too happy to add him to my approved guest list, and I got the distinct feeling they might have been his fans—though they were too professional to say anything.

I make a mental note to send them some tickets to a game as I run my fingers across the cream-colored walls.

I love this place. I never felt like I had a real home before, and even the jitters of waiting for the latest tabloid rumor can’t take that shine from me. They’ve relentlessly hounded me after theBlood Sirensred-carpet debacle, but maybe this will finally help them focus on something else.

Something positive for a change.

I worked hard for this, for my career, and now I’m going to dinner with a super handsome soccer star.

My feet pad against the wood floors, and I open the heavy wood door after a quick peek through the window.

Luke Wolfe stands on my front step, his back to me, his already broad shoulders looking even bigger in a dark blue suit jacket. His hair has a fresh-cut quality to it, and a little bubble of joy goes through me at the thought he might have freshened it up just for our date. For me.

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