The Love Square

by Jessica Calla

  “I begged you?”

  “You did. You said the sweetest things to me. I told you off and suggested you call Yolanda or Marcy, or any of your harem, then you passed out.”

  “You suck,” he said.

  She laughed as he stormed out.

  Since that morning, Alex constantly bothered Jenna about what he’d said to her that night, but she refused to tell him.

  “You were drunk,” she always answered. “It doesn’t count.”

  Not knowing made him crazy.

  ***

  Clare

  Clare twisted the wide-angle lens onto her new camera to take a picture of the rock formation in Joshua Tree National Park. She tried her best to capture the breathtaking colors of the rocks against the sky. As she did, she felt Dylan’s presence behind her.

  The day he’d given her the camera, he’d found her in her apartment, red-eyed and teary.

  “Clare? What’s wrong?” He’d studied her with those concerned, gold-flecked eyes.

  “My mom just called. I’m a little homesick.” She’d picked up a tissue and sniffled into it.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. It’s…” Clare could tell Dylan anything. He understood her, no matter what her mood, which she attributed to his childhood and growing up with three sisters.

  “What?” he’d asked again.

  She’d pouted. “It’s my birthday.”

  “Your birthday! Why didn’t you tell me? Let’s celebrate!”

  “Celebrate?”

  “Would you rather sit here and cry?”

  “Maybe,” she’d said defiantly as she took the tissue Dylan offered and wiped her nose.

  “Maybe this will cheer you up. Ready?”

  She’d nodded.

  “I got you a present.”

  Clare had gasped. She loved presents. “But you didn’t know! What is it?”

  “Just something I wanted to get you, but I guess now it’s a birthday present. It’s in the car. There’s a special place I’ve been meaning to take you. Let’s go and you can open it there.”

  “Where?” Clare had said, mirroring his smile.

  “That’s a surprise too.”

  “All these surprises.” Clare loved surprises as much as presents. “Okay, let me go freshen up.”

  Dylan had taken her to an honest-to-goodness steakhouse. Not a fancy California steakhouse that served wacky spices and goofy sides, but a real steakhouse where the steaks were seasoned with salt and pepper, and a baked potato was the only side dish offered.

  Clare had smiled from ear to ear as she slathered her potato in sour cream. “I haven’t had a meal this good since I moved here.”

  “I thought you might like it. My agent brought me here last week, and I thought of you the whole time. I couldn’t wait to bring you.”

  “Thanks, Dylan. You really made me feel better today. You always do.” Clare had blown him a kiss across the table. “You’re the best.”

  “Do you want your present now?” he’d asked.

  Today, standing there in the park with Dylan beside her, taking photos with the camera he’d given her for her birthday, Clare loved California for the first time, which freaked her out a bit because she knew she’d have to leave. She took off her wide-angled lens and checked the camera’s settings.

  “Hey, Nebraska,” Dylan whispered from behind her.

  Clare turned, and Dylan pointed to a tree. A giant bird sat on its branches, inspecting the park.

  “An eagle?” Clare whispered.

  “Pretty awesome, right?”

  Clare watched Dylan stare up at the eagle, completely paralyzed for the first time since they’d met. Even with his hair tucked into a baseball cap to keep it out of his eyes, and his messy workout T-shirt and shorts, he was the most beautiful creature in the park. She pointed the lens at him and snapped his picture instead of the eagle’s, trying to capture the look of wonder in his eyes as he stood watching, face to the sky.

  Later that night when Dylan dropped her off at her apartment, Clare noticed a missed call on her phone and a new voice mail. She ignored them and printed out the picture of Dylan. She put the print on her mantle, in the spot of honor she’d been saving for a true piece of art. Dylan was definitely that.

  Clare forgot about the missed call until she snuggled into bed in her pajamas. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and played the voice mail.

  Lucas wished her a happy birthday and complained he hadn’t heard from her. “Darn,” she murmured to her cat, Angelica. Then she deleted the message and shut off the light. Her life in Nebraska seemed like the faraway past. Like something she had dreamed.

  Somewhere along the way, distracted by the wonders of California and engrossed in the bookstore, Clare had stopped missing home.

  “This could be a problem,” she said to Angelica.

  Chapter 5

  Dylan

  With each picture of Dylan published in the tabloids, he became more and more recognizable and less and less comfortable in public. He only relaxed with Clare.

  Clare never seemed to mind the attention he attracted. Nor did she let it change their friendship. Dylan constantly apologized when fans interrupted them or women threw themselves at him, until Clare finally demanded he stop.

  “If you say ‘I’m sorry’ one more time, I’ll lose my mind. I know it’s part of the package with you,” she’d said. Still, people were rude, and he worried. He tried to keep her protected from it, because she was real to him and the fame wasn’t.

  One afternoon after an especially trying photo shoot and an equally trying workout, Dylan showed up at the bookstore looking for Clare. Mary, who’d gotten used to seeing him around, pointed him toward Clare’s office, and he quickly made his way back, avoiding eye contact with customers. He peeked through the open office door and saw Clare with her head down, studying a giant printout and making notes in the margins. Her big, green eyes scanned the paper behind a pair of nerdy glasses.

  “Hey, Nebraska,” he said.

  She jumped a foot and clutched her chest. “You scared the life out of me, Dylan! My Lord. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re busy. I’ll go.”

  “No, stay,” she said. “I need a break anyway. Come in.”

  “Cute glasses,” he teased.

  “I only wear them when I have to sort through millions of numbers that don’t add up and figure out what the heck corporate wants.” She swiped his hand away when he tried to flip through the printout. “It’s stupid inventory. Either something is off or there are a lot of shoplifters in Los Angeles. What’s up?”

  Dylan held his breath, then blurted, “Do you have any interest in seeing San Francisco?”

  “San Francisco? Now?” Clare removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “That’s like hours away, Dylan.”

  “I thought maybe we could drive up for the weekend. Separate rooms of course.” He didn’t want Clare to think he was scheming to get her into bed. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. It wasn’t his style to sleep with engaged women, no matter how attractive they were.

  She blushed, and he wondered if the thought had crossed her mind too. “I would love to see San Francisco someday. But today I have a store to run.”

  “Darn.” He had taken to using her favorite word. “I really need to get away this weekend.”

  “So go on your own,” Clare suggested, turning back to her paperwork.

  Dylan watched her as he tried to formulate a Plan B. She met his stare and said, “What’s this about? You have that look on your face.”

  “Which look?” He rubbed his chin, feeling the start of his five-o’clock shadow.

  “The ‘I want to hide from Lusty stuff’ look.”

  Clare could read him like one of the books in her inventory. “Me? Hide from my career? Never.”

  “Uh-huh.” Clare smirked and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her office chair. �
�What’s going on? You need me to put those Hollywood types in line?”

  Dylan rubbed his temples and sighed. “I’m supposed to go to a thing, but I don’t want to go.”

  “A ‘thing’? What’s a ‘thing’?” Clare put her awful glasses on her freckled nose, opened her desk drawer, and dug out her hidden stash of M&Ms, which she only broke out on extra-stressful occasions. She offered Dylan the container, and he grabbed a handful and started popping them nervously.

  “It’s a black-tie charity dinner thing. I don’t have a date.” Clare sorted her M&Ms by color as Dylan came to his senses and grinned. “Unless…”

  Clare chose the green M&Ms and started to toss them back, then froze. “Unless? Uh-oh. I don’t like that word.”

  “Come on, Clare. You’re the only one I can deal with. Please?” he begged. “It will be fun.” Dylan had no qualms about lying if it meant he’d have a partner at this gig.

  She called his bluff. “Fun? You were about to travel six hours to get away from it! I have to work, anyway.”

  “Please?” Dylan begged again. “Please, please, please?” He flashed his super Hollywood smile.

  Clare rolled her eyes. “What would I have to do?”

  “You’d have to wear a gown. Please no glasses.” Clare stuck out her tongue, and he grabbed the glasses and took them off her face. He inspected them and grimaced, then put them on his own. “How do they look on me?”

  “You look like Lusty the Librarian.”

  “Hey, that was my first porn role. How’d you know?”

  “You’re terrible. I’m not going with you. I don’t know how to do Hollywood stuff.”

  “All you have to do is walk in with me, smile and be charming for a few hours, then we’ll leave.” He stared at her through her glasses, her cute face blurry through the lenses.

  “You realize I’m going to have to rearrange the whole employee schedule for this? Give me those. You look ridiculous.” Clare giggled and reached for her glasses. “This is going to cause me major stress.”

  That sounded like a yes, but he also knew she’d complain a bit more. He waited.

  “Where the heck am I going to get a gown? You could have stopped me from binge-eating M&Ms. I hate black-tie stuff. It’s so fake. Do I really have to do this?”

  “I’ll have my stylist find you a gown. I’ll even ask her to find you decent frames so you don’t look like such a dork in your glasses. You’ll love her.”

  “Oh, it’s that easy?”

  “I am a movie star,” Dylan teased, flashing his Hollywood grin. “That’s what you keep telling me, anyway.”

  “Whatever. You’re a pain in my tush is what you are. You and your stupid Lusty smile.”

  “If you go with me, I’ll buy you a present. A surprise present,” he said, pulling out the big guns.

  “Fine. For a present, I’ll go. Now get out of here so I can crunch numbers.” Clare put on her nerd girl glasses and waved him away.

  Before he left, he bent down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for saving me.”

  “Out. That present better be good.” She didn’t look up, but Dylan caught her smiling at her paperwork as he grabbed more M&Ms and left.

  The next day, Dylan’s stylist, Gretchen, called to tell him she’d stopped by the store to size up Clare, whom she described as “lovely.” Dylan thanked her profusely, and later, when Clare called to complain, he pleaded with her.

  “Can you do it for me? Just go with the flow, Clare.”

  She’d hung up on him, but two minutes later sent him a text continuing her rant.

  ***

  For the first time in his career, Dylan actually looked forward to a Hollywood event. He puttered around his apartment Saturday night, anxiously awaiting Clare’s arrival, calming his nerves with a glass of whiskey as he listened for the buzzer. He recalled taking his ex Maggie to these events—how excited she’d get, how she’d float around the room networking. Dylan would hardly see her.

  Clare wouldn’t be like that. They’d have a great time, enjoying a night out like they always did. As friends, he reminded himself, although he couldn’t shake the nervous feeling that they were about to embark on their first date.

  When Clare rang his doorbell, Dylan pushed the button to buzz her in, opened the apartment door a crack, and went back to watching the news. When he heard the elevator ding and the familiar sound of her footsteps in the hallway, he grabbed his whiskey and walked toward his front door.

  Clare pushed the door open, and when Dylan saw her, he lost all sense. His drink slipped right out of his hand, the glass crashing to the floor and shattering, splattering whiskey everywhere.

  Clare jumped back to avoid the spray. “My Lord, Dylan, I just put this dress on ten minutes ago and you’re already going to ruin it.” She walked into the kitchen as Dylan stood watching her, speechless. She came back to the foyer with handfuls of paper towels and bent to clean the mess.

  “Well, are you going to help me or not? Don’t we have to get going? Gosh, you look handsome in that tux,” Clare said, looking him up and down from her squat as she wiped the floor. When Dylan didn’t move, she stood up and stared back at him.

  “What?” She looked down at herself. “Stop staring at me, you freak.”

  Dylan couldn’t. He had never seen her made up, and she looked gorgeous. Her wavy hair fell to right below her ears, almost grazing her shoulders, and despite eye makeup that made her green eyes seem even more catlike, her natural style shone through. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the freckles on her nose, and he gulped down the words caught in his throat.

  And her body. Whoa. She always kept it covered up. The couple of times they had gone to the beach she had stayed dressed, claiming the sun would burn her. Judging from her pale skin, she was probably right. Her petite body curved like a perfect hourglass. The strapless black dress hugged her top, then flared out just a bit to graze her knees. Although he’d never seen her in heels, she seemed comfortable marching around his apartment cleaning his spill in her strappy shoes.

  Between her porcelain skin that contrasted with the black dress, the freckles on her shoulders that matched those on her nose, and her giant green eyes, he had a hard time believing she was going anywhere with him.

  “You look amazing,” he mumbled.

  She swept the glass into a dustpan. He knew he should help, but he couldn’t seem to move. “Your dress…it’s…perfect.”

  “Well, it’s yours, really. You bought it. You can wear it tomorrow.”

  He wasn’t ready to joke. He wanted to admire her for a minute longer. As she bent again to wipe the floor, Dylan squatted next to her and touched her elbow to slow her down. “I mean it,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

  Clare stopped moving and turned to him, a rosy blush colored her face. “Thanks.”

  Then neither spoke. When Clare smiled, a minute or an hour later, Dylan swooned like a schoolboy.

  He bolted up and forced himself out of his trance. “Do you want something to drink?” He didn’t know what else to do or say.

  Clare stood too, smoothing her skirt with her hands. “Only if you promise not to spill it on me.”

  After indulging in a glass of wine, which he didn’t drop or spill, they headed to the party. He schmoozed with the studio executives, finding it nearly impossible to tear his gaze from Clare. Eventually, the two of them ignored the party and hid in a corner, focused on each other. If not for their attire, they could have been sitting on the beach in their usual spot chatting.

  They ended up staying for the entire event. Afterward, he walked her to her car. “Thanks so much for tonight. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “I’ll admit it. It was fun going full-out Hollywood with you.”

  “Does that mean you’ll do it again?”

  “Only if I get a new dress and the makeup people,” she said.

  “Nebraska! Are you going California on me?”

  “Never,” she said,
giggling.

  Dylan and Clare stood by her car for a few silent minutes, neither making a move to end the night. Overpowered by the desire to kiss her, Dylan held back by reminding himself over and over, We’re friends, she’s engaged.

  Clare finally kissed him on the cheek and then opened her car door. He watched her drive away, glad he didn’t complicate the feelings between them with a kiss. He didn’t want to be the cause of Clare doing to Lucas what Maggie had done to him.

  ***

  Jenna

  Jenna’s phone rang from the depths of her dance bag as she and Scott finished rehearsal. Sweat dripped off her chin as she skipped over to dig it out. Alex.

  “Stecs!” he screamed into the phone when she tapped it. “Where you at?”

  Jenna held it away from her ear. “The studio, rehearsing. Don’t you have a game?” She found a towel in her dance bag and wiped the back of her neck.

  “Have you looked outside?”

  She hadn’t. She and Scott had started rehearsal in the windowless studio right after work. She tried to peek out the window in Scott’s office but couldn’t find a clear view.

  “Rained out,” Alex said. “Wanna hang?”

  “Where are you? It’s late.”

  “Your apartment.” He was always at her apartment. But for his endless stream of one-night stands, she would ask him to move in and pay half the rent. “Bring Scott. I’ll meet you at Hank’s.”

  Jenna looked at the clock. Her muscles ached, and she longed for a hot shower and sleep.

  “I hear you thinking up excuses,” Alex said. “Don’t wimp out. Let’s celebrate the rain, unwind. Not too long, I promise.”

  “Why don’t we just watch a movie or something?” She couldn’t bear the thought of slogging to Hank’s in the rain.

  “Jen, you are like an old lady. Meet me out. It’s been forever since you’ve been home, and I want to talk to you. You spend every night at Scott’s. I’m jealous and I miss you.”