Page 29 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

Chapter 7

PRESENT DAY

There’s nothing but cashews. Landon told me once that he hated that it was cheaper to get mixed nuts when all he really wanted were the cashews. So he’d pick them all out and Lizzie would get pissed at him. And as I shake the can with nothing but cashews, I wonder if the limo Landon takes to movie premieres has these. Probably solved one of many hilarious marital arguments he gets in.

“Should I be concerned that you’re fascinated with the nuts?” Rian asks with a laugh, lying flat on her back across the seats perpendicular to me. Her legs dangle over the edge, and she pulls up the hem of her shirt and draws circles just under her belly button. It was pretty toasty once we hopped inside, so both our jackets are hanging out on the empty seat.

I set the nuts inside the limo’s minibar. “Which one’s the first?”

“The first nut?” she asks, confusion evident in her furrowed forehead.

“Tattoo.” I nod in the direction of her circling finger. “Which one did you get first?”

“This one.” She trails a nail to a hidden tattoo behind her ear. It’s a single raindrop. “You’re very interested in my ink.”

I’m interested in conversation. So far this night has been hot and cold, and I’m not sure if it’s just the chemistry (or lack thereof) between us or if it’s all in my head.

“You’re a freaking celebrity,” I say with a laugh. “And conversation starters aren’t my forte.”

“Hmm,” she hums thoughtfully, rotating her finger across her skin and staring at the limo’s closed sunroof above her head. “How about you ask me how I got into it?”

“I figured everyone asks you that.”

She turns her head to look at me. “Only people who are interested in getting to know me.”

“How’d you get into it?” I immediately ask, and she giggles. Idowant to get to know her. All part of the plan, after all. And it’s not like I have a lot of questions to ask her stocked up in my brain.

When I moved from Pennsylvania to New York, I thought I had shoved away that part of me that has difficulty meeting people. I even read a book on how to socialize. Luckily I didn’t have to do much, since Landon has no difficulty talking for hours with someone he just met, and I was around him the majority of my time. Hell, he told me he fell in love with Lizzie after their first conversation.

I wonder how many conversations it’ll take for me to forget Theresa and start connecting with Rian (since I am determined to make that happen). Three? Four? A hundred? A thousand?

“…and that’s how it all started,” she says, and I blink a few times. Did I mention that I also have a daydreaming problem? Guess that connection will have to wait for another conversation, since I didn’t pay attention to a damn word of this one.

She laughs at my blank stare and hoists herself up on the seat. “Usually people have some sort of reaction.”

“Uh…”

“It’s okay. Refreshing, actually.” She smiles and twists around to bang on the partition. “Hey, Jackson,” she says to the driver. I’m still detecting a weird tone in her voice when she says his name. Maybe they have history or something. Damn…is that how I sound to Theresa?

“Take us to the roof court,” Rian says, then faces me again. “I hope you’re not afraid of a little illegal activity.”

She does not read people as well as she claims to. I’ve never had so much as a detention.

“Such as…?”

“Trespassing.”

I suppose that’s not horrible as far as illegal activities go. “As long as we aren’t killing anyone, I’m in.”

Rian switches on the music. It’s not exactly my kind of thing, but music is music. I’ve learned from watching Lizzie and Landon’s relationship that you don’t have to be fans of the same sort of things to be compatible. And I’ve learned from Jace and Shay’s relationship that you can be polar opposites and still be crazy for each other.

It doesn’t take us long to get to whatever the roof court is. Jackson pulls over about five minutes later and I hurry out and hold the door for Rian before he can. Figure I may as well show her that I’m gentlemanly as shit, though I didn’t realize I’d get the look of death from the driver when she puts her hand in mine and says, “Thank you.”

She leads me to an abandoned building that is giving off major haunted vibes, and I try to find a street sign to see if we’re in the ghetto, but I’m pulled into an alleyway before I can read it. I get one more glance of Jackson getting into the limo, and I swear I see someone ducking down in the passenger seat. Brown hair. That’s what I catch, and a leap goes through my gut, which is absolutely ridiculous because over 50 percent of the girl population has brown hair. And on second glance there’s not even anyone there. So my damn mind is playing tricks on me.

“Watch out for the edges,” Rian says, pulling my attention back to her and her purple hair. Purple. That’s probably less than 1 percent of the girl population. Along with her millionaire status. I’m out with one of a freaking kind. So I shake myself out of it and give her a grin. She pulls the chain-link fence out where it’s cut, being careful not to slice herself on the sharp edges. I hold it for her, eyeing theNO TRESPASSINGsign, adrenaline starting to bubble through my veins like when I was up on that stage. When she makes it through, I duck in after her.

“Where are we headed?” I ask in a hushed voice, crouching down so she can hear me. She lets out a giant laugh that makes me jump.

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