Page 21 of Take 2
“Preston won’t even be the hottest person there.” I lean forward on the counter. “Chris is staring in this picture.”
James cocks an eyebrow. “Which Chris?”
“Your favorite.”
“Oh.” He licks his lips. “Alas, I know you don’t play with actors anymore.”
“Maybe that rule only applies within California.” I’m full of shit, and he knows it. But any opportunity to direct the conversation away from Preston cannot be missed here.
“Maybe hating Preston is only in California, too.”Fail.James becomes unreasonably focused when it’s in the name of picking on me.
“Traveling with someone tends to highlight the worst in them,” Ashleigh says. “I’m more worried they’ll kill each other.”
Flying first class halfway around the world isn’t exactly something I have any experience with. So far, I’ve only traveled to Georgia and New York for work, and in college, it was always for Ryan’s games.
I take a bigger gulp of margarita than is strictly necessary.
Come watch me play football. Come watch me make a movie.
Some things never change, I guess.
Chapter Nine
Ten Years ago
Thesoundsofthered carpet coverage reach me from Ryan’s living room as I pour champagne in the kitchen. “Sacha Baron Cohen came in character,” he tells me.
“Of course he did.” My heels don’t make a sound on the cheap college apartment carpeting as I go to join him on his couch. I place the glasses on the coffee table and tuck the gauzy purple skirt of this year’s Oscars dress under myself as I sit.
He holds out a bow tie. “If you please.”
“We don’t have to do all this.”
“Of course we do. It’s the Academy Awards.” The feigned indignation in his voice makes me smile. “And you look way too gorgeous to be next to a guy who isn’t wearing a bow tie.”
“I don’t have to do all this either.” I wave a hand toward my dress.
“You really, really do. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my intentions for all your Oscars dresses.” He licks his lips, and I giggle stupidly because two years in, I’m still a little confused as to why he wants me.
“All right, come here.” I flip his collar up and wrap the tie around it. “At least this year I don’t have to worry about your parents hearing us. I expect you to take full advantage of us being alone.” I finish tying the almost familiar knot (I had to watch the YouTube tutorial again) and glance back up to find him frowning.
“We could have had a party, Bella.”
“We don’t need a party. This year was so crazy I haven’t even read all the nominated screenplays or watched the roundtables. I’m not fully recovered from winter break, and you’re under so much pressure right now.”
“I’m probably under no pressure right now. Except to start thinking about a plan B.”
“Ryan.” I turn to straddle him, my skirt pooling between us. “You had an incredible season and a great college career. You went to the Rose Bowl.”
“And lost. Anyone watching me might think my injury isn’t fully healed.”
I glance at his ankle and back to his face. “It is, right?”
“Bella.” He dips his chin in a patronizing look.
“Well, you never complain about stuff like that! I have to worry.”
“It’s fine. Really. But no one wants to offer a contract to someone who might not be at the top of his game.”
