Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“That’s true,” I allowed. “But honestly, I was just being immature. I had a huge crush on him when we were younger, and one night I did something stupid that resulted in utter heartbreak and humiliation.”
Our wine arrived, but Veronica ignored it. “What did you do?”
“I’ll tell you. But please keep in mind, I was sixteen and crazy about him. Don’t judge me.”
She held up both palms. “Ari, I walked into your diner last June wearing a wedding gown, having just left my fiancé at the altar, and you could not have been nicer. You served me the best burger and fries I’d ever had and told me about the nanny job for Austin’s kids. My life was transformed because of that day. I’d never judge you.”
“Not even when I tell you I snuck into his bedroom and asked him to deflower me?”
Her eyes popped. “You did not!”
“I did,” I said, my face growing hot. “Climbed into bed with him, took off my pajamas, and offered myself up right there on the bottom bunk.”
Veronica slapped a hand to her forehead. “What did he do?”
“Jumped out of bed and turned me down. Said we should just forget it ever happened.” I shuddered. “Let me tell you, there is nothing more tragic at sixteen than having the boy of your dreams tell you he just looks at you like a little sister.”
Her expression was anguished. “God, that’s so painful. Then what happened?”
“I snuck back into Mabel’s room and sobbed into the pillow.”
“Did Mabel know?”
I shook my head. “Not until later. I mean, she knew about my crush on him—it had been going on for years—but I hadn’t told her what I was planning.”
Veronica took a sip of her wine. “It’s probably better that he did the right thing, don’t you think?”
“Now I do. But not in the moment. I loved him too much.” I picked up my wineglass. “So what else could I do but hate him forever?”
“Nothing. It was the only solution your poor wounded pride could handle.”
“Especially after he got all famous. Do you know how annoying that is?” I took a sip of pinot and set my glass down. “The guy who rejected you shouldn’t grow up to be a gorgeous Hollywood star,” I said. “He should turn into a toad.”
Smiling, Veronica lifted her wine to her lips. “So how did you go from wanting him to turn into a toad to working side by side at the diner?”
I sighed. “The night I cut my finger, we sort of hugged it out and decided we could be friends.”
“Friends. Hmm.” Her mouth, painted with her usual shade of red lipstick, twisted gleefully.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She lifted her shoulders. “From what I saw at the diner, you two just seem very . . . cozy together.”
“Cozy?”
“Yeah, you know, just . . .” Again, she shrugged. “Comfortable. Like you’ve known each other forever.”
“Well, we have. We’re kind of like brother and sister.” Even as I said it, it didn’t feel true.
“Hmmm,” she murmured, her tone conveying skepticism. “I don’t think so. He was paying a lot of attention to you. I might even say there was fawning involved.”
My face heated up again. “There was no fawning. He just didn’t want me to do too much because of my hand. He’s protective—like a big brother.”
Veronica laughed. “I’ll allow protective. But he was not looking at you like a little sister. He was looking at you like he hopes you’re the princess whose kiss will turn him back into a man, at which point he is going to take off all her clothes and make up for that time he turned her down.”
“Stop it.” I laughed, but I felt hot beneath my sweater and peeled it off. “He has never looked at me like that.”
She gave me a look that said she knew better. “So then you probably don’t have any plans to see him again.”
“Not really.”
She feigned surprise, the fingers of one hand steepled over her heart. “Oh, you do have plans to see him again?”
“Well, we’re friends. I’m helping him with something.”
“Something like what?”
“Something like developing more emotional depth in his acting so he can be considered for bigger roles.” I tried to make it sound businesslike.
“I see.” She set her glass down and leaned on the table with both elbows, hands clasped like an executive. “And how are you going to do that?”
“While he’s home over the next month, we’re going to watch movies I think have big, emotional performances in them. You know, like Casablanca and Titanic.”
Her head fell back as she laughed. “I see. So you’re going to cuddle up on the couch and watch some of the most romantic movies of all time. But it’s strictly platonic.”
“There won’t be cuddling.” God, I hoped there would be cuddling.
“I have a movie suggestion.”