Page 20 of Can't Always Get What You Want

"For real?"

"Yes," she hisses, taking a sip of the yellow giraffe. "I swear, the universe has it out to get me. Just send me one decent,normal guy who isn’t a walking red flag. Is that so much to ask?"

I raise a brow at her. Has she already forgotten the universe already has—and he’s sitting right next to her?

"You sure you don’t have terrible taste?"

Her jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

I grin. "I’m just saying,maybethe common denominator in all these disasters isyou."

She gasps, smacking my arm. "Youasshole!"

"Look," I say, still grinning. "I’m just saying, maybe it’snotthe universe. Maybe you’re just looking in all the wrong places."

Nova opens her mouth—but something shifts in the air. That weird, unmistakable feeling of being watched prickles at the back of my neck. It’s one I’m familiar with, given the public nature of my profession, but it’s unsettling nonetheless.

My instincts kick in before I even realize what I’m doing, gaze flickering past Nova, scanning the bar.

That’s when I see him.

A dude near the entrance, phone raised, pointed directly at me.

My stomach tightens.

The moment our eyes meet, he lowers his phone, turning away like he wasn’t just blatantly snapping a picture. Like I didn’tjustcatch him mid-shot.

My jaw tics. Fan? Paparazzi? Some random guy trying to sell a photo to the highest bidder? I don’t know. But whatever it is, it doesn’t sit right.

Nova notices the shift in my expression and frowns. "What?"

“Hold on one second.” I slide off the stool, ignoring Nova’s confused expression as I weave through the tables, eyes locked on the guy.

He’s moving toward the exit, like he’s hoping to blend into the crowd and disappear before I can reach him. Too bad for him, I move faster.

“Hey,” I call out, my voice steady but firm.

The guy stiffens, but doesn’t turn around. Instead, he keeps walking, shoulders hunched like he can pretend he didn’t hear me.

Not happening. My date with Nova is private and I would love to keep it that way, despite the fact that we’re at the fucking Rainforest Café.

I pick up my pace and reach out, grabbing his arm just enough to make him stop, but not enough to make a scene. “I said,hey.”

He turns slowly, his grip tightening on his phone. He’s mid-thirties, scruffy, wearing a jacket that’s seen better days. His eyes dart around, like he’s searching for an escape route.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I’m on a date and she’s camera shy,” I say by way of explanation, not wanting to come off as a total prick.

His jaw shifts. "I was just—" He hesitates, then sighs. "Look, man, it’s nothing. Just a quick picture."

"For what?" I press.

The guy glances around again, nervous. "I’m a fan, okay? Just wanted a shot, that’s all."

I don’t buy it. Notcompletely.

"Yeah?" I study him, watching the way he grips his phone like it’s his lifeline. "Do you mind showing it to me?"

His eyes widen slightly. "What?"

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