Page 9 of The Wedding Season
“Oh, it’s my alley if it’s a terrible project that will never getmade?”
“No, I mean it wasYA.”
“I thought you made YA one of your manyalleys.”
“Not for a while, actually. It was just that one script back atEmerson.”
I look around. I cannot lose my shit with him. There are too many people here that I want to work with someday. I don’t want them to remember me as that crazy girl who beat up Scott Braddock at Jeff and Laurie’swedding.
“Sorry,” he says. “I meant you could have made the script a lot better. I guess that came outwrong.”
“Youcame outwrong.”
He smiles. “You’re not the first to sayso.”
“Honestly, what is wrong withyou?”
“You tell me, Duffy. I’ve alwayswondered.”
I accidentally stare at his mouth and suddenly all I can think about is how it was once attached to Brianna’s vulva. I make an involuntary weird growling sound, and push my chair back, almost knocking over a server. “Oh my God I’m so sorry!” I don’t look back, I just speed-walk to the inside of themansion.
Chapter 4
*Erin*
Iwalk aroundlike I know where I’m going. The interior of Greystone Mansion is, as expected, very elegant and grand, with shiny marble floors that I could slip and crack my heart open on—I mean my head—what?!
I hear footsteps behind me, and I know whose feet they belong to by the chill they’ve sent up my spine. I walk faster. His gait remains steady. I walk through what looks like a large empty ballroom and find myself on a terrace that overlooks the treetops and buildings of Beverly Hills and a wide scope of Los Angeles in the distance. In a flash, I picture myself throwing him over the edge. It is this image that makes me feel confident enough to stop and turn to facehim.
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “What?”
He slowly walks past me, to the stone railing, and sits on it. It’s almost as if he’s tempting me to push him. Or maybe he just wants to sit down. He slips his hands into his pockets, looking very casual. “How many times am I supposed to say I’m sorry to you before you’ll believe I meanit?”
“I don’t know. What exactly is it you’d be apologizingfor?”
“Everything I’ve eversaid?”
“And?”
“And everything I everdid.”
“Specifically?”
He sucks in his breath, as if getting ready to be punched in the gut. “Having sex with your collegeroommate.”
“And?”
“And?...And being a dick to her afterwards. But I didn’t want to see her again, I wantedto…”
“Yeah, you made that perfectlyclear.”
“No. Erin.Just.”
“Oh my God we don’t have to talk about this anymore—you don’t have to apologize to me—we don’t have to talk at all.” I spin on my heel and start to walkaway.
He grabs my arm and I stop walking, yank my arm away from him. It’s not like he used force, but I can still feel where he touched me. I don’t want to feel him on me. It’s like the spot where he touched me has infected me and I can feel him spreading all over my body. What is happening? Ishiver.
“Are youokay?”
