Page 19 of Heart Set on You

I’m setting the glass back on the table when Violet approaches.

“Room for one more?” she asks, sitting down beside Miles, forcing him to scoot over. Craig and Steven’s eyes just about pop out their heads, not that Violet notices. She hasn’t acknowledged anyone else at the table besides her co-star. Miles makes a point of introducing her, and I take notice of the fact that he remembers everyone’s names.

“Oh, I didn’t expect to see either of you here,” she says, briefly letting her attention fall to me and Abby. She’s looking at us like we’re peasants. I straighten my spine, refusing to allow her to ruin my night.

“Jared was kind enough to invite most of the crew. He really is a great guy,” I say, hoping she gets the hint that you can be mega-star famous and still be kind to the people around you. I doubt it will actually sink in, but a girl can try.

“Is it cool in here or is just me?” Abby says, wrapping her arms around her middle, rubbing her arms. I bite back a laugh, pretty sure she’s referring to Violet’s chilly personality. “I should have brought a sweater,” Abby continues, “but I couldn’t find one in my rush to get here.”

“I’m sure you could find what you’re looking for at Target,” Violet snips. “I’ve heard girls like you love it there.” My hand flies to Abby’s knee, squeezing it before she has a chance to jump across the table and throttle her. She takes the hint, blowing out a breath and sitting back in her chair.

“So, where are you from, Miles? L.A.?” Steven asks, attempting to move the conversation along. I’m starting to wish I stayed home with a face mask and a chilled glass of wine. It seems much more enjoyable than sitting here suffering through Violet’s childish behaviour.

“No, actually I’m from a small town three hours outside of New York. Reed Point. I moved to L.A. when my acting career took off.”

“And that it did. I’m a big fan. I’ve seen all of your movies. I have to tell you I was jazzed to hear you were the lead on this project. I’m really excited to work with you.”

“Thanks, man. It’s not a career I ever saw coming, but I love it,” Miles answers before asking if he can get anyone a drink from the bar. It’s rare for the star of a movie to hang out with the crew, let alone serve them drinks. But Miles isn’t like other celebrities I’ve met. For instance, I happen to know he doesn’t have one item on his preference sheet on set, which is a testament to the type of man he is. Someone raised him right.

“If you’re going anyways, I would love a glass of water,” I say, and he nods.

“A dirty martini would be amazing,” Violet adds, as she scoots out of the booth to let him pass. I expect her to follow him, but she doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. She sits back down, lucky for us.

“Consider it done.” Miles winks, disappearing to the bar to get our drinks, leaving us alone with Violet for a minute. Abby and I glance at each other, exchanging mental eye rolls. Neither of us can think of a thing to say to her.

Miles returns a few minutes later, handing me my drink and then Violet hers before taking a seat at the end of the booth opposite me.

“Thank you,” I say, a hitch in my voice. I wonder if it will ever feel normal to be around Miles. The physical attraction I feel for him is undeniable. It feels like it radiates off of me, totally obvious to the rest of the room. I’m hoping I’m doing a decent job of hiding the way I feel about him, but acting differently than how I feel has never been my thing. And it’s not just his looks that draw me in, but the fact that he is so real.

“So, Violet, where are you from?” Abby asks, and I’m impressed by her attempt to engage the actress.

Violet seems bored. Bored with the company, the music, the drinks. Or maybe she’s just irritated that she has to share Miles with the rest of the table. She answers Abby’s question with zero enthusiasm.

“I’m from California. I grew up in Orange County, but I wanted to leave since I was little. My dream was always to move to Hollywood and become an actress.”

“You accomplished that. Your parents must be proud,” Abby says, trying her best to make conversation.

“I guess they are. My father is a surgeon, and my mother owns a woman’s clothing store. They’re both very busy. You know how it is?”

Abby smiles wanly. As for me, apparently I do not exist. Violet hasn’t looked in my direction once since she’s sat down. I have no idea what I’ve done to make her to treat me this way. I probably shouldn’t care, but I do.

“It sounds like we grew up very differently,” Abby replies. “I’m from the south. A small-town girl. Rylee too.”

“Well, that explains things.”

What is that supposed to mean? I can’t hold my tongue. “I had the privilege of living most of my life in a small town,” I say, adding as sweetly as I can muster, “As did Dolly Parton, Brad Pitt and Meryl Streep. You’ve heard of them, I guess?”

Miles smirks and Abby shoves her thigh against mine under the table.

Violet must notice Miles looking at me because her eyes narrow in on him. Her hand glides over his bicep as she leans into his neck just a little too close. She starts to giggle at everything he says like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Every time her hand travels a little further up his arm, I cringe.

I don’t know what bothers me more: watching her put her hands all over him or the fact that he’s doing nothing to stop it. It hurts that Miles would allow her to flirt with him right in front of my face. She looks across the table at me, her expression making it clear that she’s got him right where she wants him. I’m beginning to hate her with a passion.

Standing up, I say to no one in particular at the table, “Can you excuse me?”

A girl can only take so much. I walk away, not able to stand two more seconds of this. The idea of Miles and Violet together is enough to make me vomit. I know I’m behaving like a jealous girlfriend, but I don’t care. I feel like an idiot for even thinking there was something between Miles and me. How stupid am I? I don’t dare look behind me as I head straight for the door, my heart racing, tears threatening to fall.

I push my way through the crowd of people, reaching the door and exiting onto the darkened street. I round the corner and pull my phone from my clutch, needing to call an Uber.

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