“I moved there my senior year,” I admit, studying the people setting the space back up where it was before I decided to stray from the script. Absentmindedly, I add, “Kinley became my best friend.”
“No shit,” Olivia breathes, sitting back in her chair and taking it in. “Guess that explains the familiarity between you. Wait—”
I look at her warily as a grin spreads across her face. Knowing what’s coming, I close my eyes and pretend I’m anywhere else. What happened between Kinley and I shouldn’t be discussed with co-workers.
Her expression is too giddy when I finally meet her eyes again. “Was she talking about you when we asked about the sex scene? I really want you to tell me yes.”
Deadpan, I just stare at her.
She claps once. “Holy shit. She’s seriously my hero. You don’t even have to tell me. I can see it in your eyes. No man’s ego could walk away unbruised from that brutal conversation. No wonder you came to the mystery man’s defense so quickly. Was it like a virgin pact?”
Clicking my tongue, I stare at one of the assistants repositioning the chair we’d accidently knocked down in the process of our scene.
“No. It’s none of your business.”
Her hand clenches my wrist. “It’s so my business. I already know the famous Corbin Callum took my favorite author’s virginity, but you won’t tell me who took yours?”
I just glare at her.
She groans. “Eliot Sanchez.”
Why the hell is she bringing up a famous director’s kid? “What about him?”
Her wink is playful. “He’s who claimed my V-card. Right on set of his dad’s feature film. There was a couch that—”
“Stop.” I make a face. “I really don’t want to know. Why are you even telling me?”
“So you’ll tell me who took yours. Spill.”
“Again … no.”
“You’re no fun!”
“You’re nosey,”
I fire back.
“I’m mind blown,” she corrects. “The chances of this sort of thing happening have to be pretty low. Like winning the lottery low. Or, I don’t know, being attacked by a shark in a tornado low.”
I stare at her. “Did you just make a Sharknado reference? Who even are you?”
Her scoff is nonthreatening. “A fan of unique storylines, that’s who. But that is beside the point and you know it.”
“Why do you want to know so bad?”
Lifting her shoulders, she crosses her legs and drapes an arm across the back of her seat. “I don’t know. I’m a hopeless romantic who believes that things happen for a reason.”
“And knowing who I lost my virginity to somehow helps you hold that belief?”
She smacks my arm. “The point I’m slowly putting together in my head is that you two seem to have gone through a lot but look where you are. You’re both adults, both successful, and somehow found your way back to each other despite being in two totally different career paths. That means something.”
Does it though? I want to believe the same thing, but there isn’t anything we can do about it. Not publicly. I did my best at keeping Kinley out of the press when I started getting more attention, which was the only reason I got someone to take down anything they could about my past. Kinley always hated publicity and being the center of attention. I knew the second I opened up about my time in Lincoln, and the people in it, people would do anything to get a quick scoop on me.
Whether Kinley wants to believe it or not, I’ve always looked out for her. Even when she didn’t realize it. Definitely when she didn’t want me to.
“I’m not the only one she’s slept with,” I murmur begrudgingly, eye twitching from the fact I know all too goddam well.
Olivia doesn’t have to ask to know that I’m still pissed off even after all these years. Was I a saint after I left town? No. But that didn’t start until after I heard what she did. That’s really when the tale of Kinley and Corbin became ugly.