by Susannah Nix
“No one.” He shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean that—she’s someone, obviously. Just no one you’ve heard of.”
Her mouth curved in a knowing smirk. “Not an actress, you mean?”
“Yes. Exactly. She’s not an actress.”
Kimberleigh set her phone down and reached for her drink. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Griffin shook his head, wincing as the room swooped around him. “She’s my friend, but that’s as far as we’ve gotten.”
“You want her to be your girlfriend though.”
“Yes—maybe. I don’t know. I like her, but I don’t know if we’re right for each other.”
Kimberleigh tapped a manicured nail against her glass. “It’s hard for people like us to date normals. They don’t understand what it’s like. The constant pressure of the spotlight.”
Griffin nodded and swallowed another mouthful of scotch. “It’s hard enough dating people who do work in the business.”
Her mouth gave a bitter twist. “I’ll drink to that.” As she downed the last of her vodka rocks, Griffin was reminded that her most recent relationship had ended publicly and very messily when her actor boyfriend was photographed stepping out on her with a rising young pop starlet.
He set his drink down and stared morosely at the marble surface of the table. “How can I drag Alice into all this shit we have to deal with? It’s not fair to her. Assuming she even wants it—me—which I’m not even sure of.”
Kimberleigh offered a surprisingly sympathetic smile. “I don’t know anything about her, but I’m willing to bet she wants you. That’s part of the problem with being us. Everyone wants us—or thinks they do. Until they actually get to know us and the shine wears off.”
“I think I’m drunk,” Griffin said, surprised.
“Really?” Kimberleigh lifted a mocking eyebrow. “You mean you didn’t do the ‘Single Ladies’ dance to Migos stone-cold sober?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been sucking down vodka like it was La Croix all night.”
She rattled the ice in her glass, smirking. “Practice.”
Griffin picked up his scotch again. “This is my first drink in…” He pressed the cool glass against his forehead while he did the math. “Almost three months.”
“Griffin, sweetie. That’s your fifth drink tonight.”
“I don’t mean this specific drink. I mean—you know what I mean. Tonight’s the first time I’ve let myself drink.”
“So you’re not always this much of a lightweight, is what you’re saying?”
“Definitely not.”
Kimberleigh picked up her phone again and swiped her thumb across the screen. “Maybe we should get you home. This place is a little high-profile. If you’re going to get maudlin, better to do it somewhere without two hundred cell phone cameras and a dozen paparazzi within pissing distance.”
A wave of exhaustion rolled over Griffin and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Mmmm. You may have a point there.”
Kimberleigh scooted her way out of the booth and hooked a hand under Griffin’s elbow. “Come on, big boy. Let’s put you into an Uber.”
“I thought you hated me,” he said as she steered him toward the door.
“It’s nothing personal. I hate everyone.”
The humidity slapped Griffin in the face like a wet towel as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Jesus, why is it so hot in this fucking state?”
Kimberleigh checked her phone and scanned the street for his Uber. “Only a few more weeks, then we can both fly away back to the desert where we belong.”
Griffin watched her watching for his car. “Why do you hate everyone?”
She shrugged. “Force of habit.”
Impulsively, he bent down and kissed her cheek. “I think you’re secretly nice,” he whispered into her ear. “I think it’s all for show, to keep people at a distance.”
The smile she gave him when he pulled away was amused but also slightly sad. “If only.”
“It’s a good act, but I’m not buying it.”
She reached up to brush her hand through his hair. “You’re sweet. I hope you get your Alice.”
“I hope you get yours too.”
A white Escalade pulled up to the curb and Kimberleigh corralled him toward it. “Here’s your chariot, handsome.” She blew him a kiss once he was inside, and went back into the club.
It was blissfully quiet and air-conditioned in the car. Griffin slouched down in his seat and listened to the soft jazz his driver was playing as they crawled through the streets of midtown Atlanta.
“The music okay?” the driver asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at a stoplight. She was young and black, with a dog-eared organic chemistry textbook wedged between her seat and the console.
“Yeah,” Griffin told her. “It’s great.”
“Was that Kimberleigh Cress back there at the club with you?”
“It was.”
“She your girlfriend or something?”
“Nope. Just someone I work with.”
“What’s she like?”
Griffin thought about it. “She’s nice,” he said, knowing Kimberleigh would hate it. “Really nice.”
The driver’s eyes found his in the mirror again when the car rolled to a stop at another light. He could see the moment recognition dawned. “You’re that guy from that show.”
“That’s me,” Griffin said, turning his face to the window.
“Cool. My mom watches that show.”
“Then tell your mom I said thanks.”
The light changed, and they drove the remaining six blocks to his building in silence.
“Have a good night,” he told the driver as he got out of the car. “Good luck in school.” He took out his phone as the car pulled away from the curb.
Made it home, he texted Kimberleigh. Give her a good tip.
He let himself into his apartment and made a beeline to the fridge for a Gatorade. Tomorrow morning he’d probably be full of regret, but right now he was still feeling pretty good.
He wandered into the bedroom and set the unopened Gatorade down on his nightstand. Kimberleigh’s perfume was all over his clothes. He stripped his shirt off and tossed it across the room, but the smell still lingered in his nostrils.
Slipping his phone out of his pocket again, Griffin sank down on the edge of the bed and stared at the screen. What time was it in LA? It was one forty-five here, so that meant it was…something earlier on the West Coast. He was too drunk to do the math, but he figured Alice might still be awake.
A voice in the back of his head tried to warn him that now was not a good time to talk to the woman he was secretly in love with. He ignored it and hit call.
After three rings, he got Alice’s voicemail. Damn.
He should just hang up. He didn’t have anything important to say that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
He didn’t hang up.
“Alice,” he said after the tone. “Hey, Alice. It’s me—Griffin. Uh…I was calling to talk to you, but I guess you’re busy or asleep or something.”
He paused, bending over to slip his shoes off as he considered what to say.
“I went out drinking tonight. And guess what? I got drunk. After only four drinks! I’m a lightweight now.”
He lost his train of thought and frowned, trying to remember what he’d been meaning to say.
“Oh! Right. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is because I have to tell you something very important, in case you didn’t know by now. So here it is: I like you. So much. I don’t know if you knew that, but I thought maybe you should. I like the way you smell, and the way you smile at me when I walk in the door. The sound of your laugh—and the fact that I can make you laugh. I really hate being so far away from you. I miss you more than dairy, and you know how much I miss dairy.”
He stopped and scratched the back of his head.
“Okay, sooo…that’s it, really. That
’s what I wanted to say. I miss you. I’m gonna go to sleep now.”
Feeling proud of himself, he dropped the phone and passed out facedown on his bed.
15
I really hate being so far away from you. I miss you more than dairy, and you know how much I miss dairy. Okay, sooo…that’s it, really. That’s what I wanted to say. I miss you. I’m gonna go to sleep now.
Alice stared at her phone in shock and replayed Griffin’s voicemail again from the beginning. Very slowly, she broke into a smile.
Griffin liked her.
Okay, so he had to be drunk to come right out and say it, but he definitely liked her. She had proof now.
But did he like her in a hot and bothered, want to mash their face holes together kind of way? Or in a platonic, let’s just be best friends kind of way?
He wouldn’t have drunk-dialed if it was the latter, right? That wouldn’t be something he had to get liquored up to say. Unless he was just really, really bad at having friends.
But he wasn’t. He was good at it, from everything she’d ever seen.
Stop trying to talk yourself out of this. Enjoy it. Bask in it. Let yourself feel happy.
It was hard. Alice was programmed to distrust compliments. She was always waiting for the other shoe to fall. For the backhanded blow that usually followed.
This was different though. Griffin wasn’t like that. He’d called to tell her he liked her because he actually liked her. Just because he was drunk didn’t mean he hadn’t meant it. It just meant he was too nervous to say it sober.
How about that? Griffin Beach was nervous to tell her he liked her.
She thought about calling him back, but given the timestamp on the voicemail and how drunk he’d been, she figured he was probably still sleeping it off.
Instead she called Rachel.
“That’s funny,” Rachel said, sounding not the least bit amused when Alice had finished telling her about the voicemail, which…was not the reaction she’d been expecting.
“Why is it funny?”
“Because Hot Hollywood Nights has a photo of him leaving some club in Atlanta last night with Kimberleigh Cress.”
Alice’s stomach dropped down to the floor. “What?”
“Google it. They looked pretty cozy to me.”
She opened her laptop and found the photo a few posts down on the sleazy gossip site’s home page. There was Griffin, clear as day, with his arm around Kimberleigh and his face pressed against her cheek. She was smiling and had her hand resting on his chest.
Alice swallowed down a wave of nausea. “He’s just kissing her cheek. It could be nothing. I saw him kiss your cheek at the wrap party. He’s a cheek kisser. He kisses everyone’s cheeks.” Except Alice’s. He hadn’t kissed her cheek that night. She was probably the only woman there he hadn’t kissed.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Rachel said, sounding not at all sure but like she was trying to make Alice feel better.
“I mean—okay—it says they left together, but you know these sites get stuff wrong all the time. And even if they did leave together, it doesn’t necessarily mean they slept together. Maybe they were just sharing a car.”
“Sure.” Rachel was clearly just humoring her.
Alice bit down on her lip. “If he was with Kimberleigh last night, you really think he would have called me? Like, did he crawl out of her bed to drunk-dial me? Seems unlikely.”
“Unless he’d already skedaddled after they did the deed. He’s not exactly known for sticking around to cuddle.”
Alice enlarged the photo on her screen. They did look disturbingly…intimate.
“You’re probably right, though,” Rachel said. “It’s probably blown out of proportion. That picture could be totally innocent.”
It could be. But was it? Alice wasn’t so sure.
“Why don’t you just call him?” Rachel suggested. “Ask him straight out what the deal is.”
“Maybe I will,” Alice said, knowing she would do no such thing.
She didn’t have any claim on him or his romantic attentions. Technically, he hadn’t said anything in his voicemail that definitively proved he wanted to be more than just friends. She might have inferred more, but there was nothing that would stand up in court.
Not that they were going to adjudicate this in court. Ugh. This was so stupid. Why had she let herself go and fall for him? She’d been much better off before she had all these annoying feelings.
Griffin called later that afternoon—a voice call, not a video chat. Alice wasn’t sure what to read into that.
“Hi!” she chirped a little too loudly when she answered. So much for not acting weird.
“Hey.” His voice sounded rough, like he was still recovering from his hangover. “So…I have this vague memory of—did I call you last night?”
She got up from the couch to pace around the living room. “You left me a voicemail.” Taco’s eyes followed her anxiously as she walked past his bed.
“Ohhhh shit.” Griffin groaned. “I was pretty drunk.”
“Yes, you were,” Alice agreed.
“Did I say anything stupid or embarrassing? Do I need to apologize?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “No. You were fine.”
“What did I say?”
The fact that he didn’t remember meant the ball was in her court. She could tell him the truth and force a conversation about it…or she could rewrite history and pretend he’d never said the things he’d said.
Alice took the coward’s way out, because that was how she rolled. “You mostly just told me you were drunk.”’
“Oh. Okay.” He sounded relieved, and she wondered what he’d been afraid he might have said. “I didn’t mean to get that wasted, but I’m a lightweight these days.”
“That’s exactly what you said in the message.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She stopped pacing and took a breath before saying the next part. “I saw a picture of you from last night, actually, on Hot Hollywood Nights.”
“Shit. Really? What was I doing? I wasn’t dancing, was I?”
She squeezed the phone, which felt slippery in her hand. “Uh, no. You were kissing Kimberleigh Cress, actually.”
“What?”
“On the cheek, it looks like.”
“Whew. Okay.”
“So?” Alice tried to sound lighthearted and teasing. “You and Kimberleigh, huh?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It says you went home together.”
“We didn’t,” he said darkly. “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet. Most of what they post on those sites is lies.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Yeah. That’s what I figured.”
“They’re always making something out of nothing.”
See? She was right. It was nothing.
“God. Only four more weeks.” He blew out a breath like he’d just sat down. “And then I’ll be back home. I can’t wait. You have no idea.”
“Yeah, about that…” Alice resumed her pacing. “I’ve been looking at apartments, and I found a decent prospect, but it’s not available until the first of August, which means I’d be in your hair for an extra week and a half, and I wasn’t sure if—”
“It’s fine. There’s no rush.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m not in a hurry to get rid of you or anything.”
Alice twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I just thought you might like to have your house to yourself when you come back.”
“Nah. It’s cool. In fact, you don’t have to move out at all.”
“What?” She halted mid-step and pressed the phone to her ear.
“You can stay as long as you want.”
Her heart thudded loudly against her rib cage. “What? Like as your roommate?”
“Why not?” She could picture him shrugging. “We get along great. It’s not like it’s a hardship.”
�
�Yeah, but you don’t want a roommate cramping your style.” Do you? And what about a girlfriend? Would you like one of those? Would you like it to be me?
He laughed. “You should know by now I don’t have any style to cramp. And I don’t mind having you around. I like it, actually.”
“Oh.” Alice walked over to the couch and sat down heavily, causing Taco’s ears to perk up.
“It’s totally up to you,” Griffin continued. “But, you know, if it’s easier for you to stay until you graduate or whatever, you’re welcome to. For as long as you want.”
“Wow, that’s—are you sure?” She was even more confused now. Did he think of her as just a roommate, or did he want to keep her around because he liked her?
“Yeah. Totally sure.” His tone was light and guileless. “You should stay.”
“Okay,” Alice said tentatively. “Well, thanks.” Who was she to turn down free rent while she was still in school? If he was willing to have her, she’d be an idiot not to stay.
“It’s settled, then!” He sounded happy. “Taco and I get to keep you.”
“Ha ha, yeah.” She swallowed down the nervous butterflies trying to flap their way out of her stomach.
“Oh, shit.” He sounded farther away suddenly, as if he was holding the phone at arm’s length.
“What?”
“My agent just texted.” His voice sounded close again—so close she could hear the puff of his breath against the microphone. “I’d better call her back. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Yep. Bye.”
Alice set the phone down on the coffee table and folded forward, clutching her stomach with both arms.
Apparently she wasn’t moving out after all. Which meant when Griffin came home—what?
She had no idea.
Griffin’s agent was flying out to Atlanta to talk to him. In person. That was ominous. Sabrina only ever delivered bad news in person. Good news she delivered over the phone, but with bad news she always felt the need to “manage” him. If she was flying two thousand miles, it must be pretty fucking bad.
She’d refused to tell him what it was about though. “It’s nothing,” she’d said lightly. “Don’t panic. We’ll talk when I get there.”