Page 78 of No Interest in Love

She jerks back, mouth turned down. Her back straightens as if she’s going on the defensive. “This is Hollywood. Once you’re in, you’re going to want to stay and play for a bit. Monogamy kind of spoils that for you.”

I shake my head, knowing just days ago I probably sounded just like her. It all feels so ridiculous now. And she’s right, Shay’s not my girlfriend or even anything at this point, but I don’t care. I don’t want that anymore. Not after I’ve felt what could be the real deal.

“Actually, this is Birmingham, Alabama,” I say. “And I’m done playing.”

And even though I know I’m about to lose a chance at the big screen, I feel light as a feather as I turn my back on Miss Sure Thing.

I’m craving something a bit more unlikely.

Saturday

12:00A.M.

It’s a long walk from Carletta’s suite to the fast-food place down the road, but at least it’s not twenty miles. And the journey there and back to the hotel goes quick with everything reeling through my brain on a loop.

I said no to a sure thing. I said no for the chance at a veryunlikelything. For the first time I want to be Ted, not Barney. I don’t want to take the Stinson Approach. I want my own approach to this. No script, no set characters…even though the thought of her not reciprocating the feelings niggles in the back of my mind, I don’t let it deter me.

I step into the elevator with fast-food bag in hand, pressing the 2 button without pause. I could easily press the top floor and be back with Carletta…but I don’t. And it’s not because I feel guilty or because I think it’ll save the part I’ve spent all week to get, but because…

I don’t want to.

Seems simple, but I don’t want to sleep with her. I don’t feel like sleeping with anyone but Shay, no matter how long that takes. And I end up chuckling to myself as the elevator doors open on floor 2 because I never thought I’d be thinking this.

Shay’s room is the last one down the hallway, and when I get there, I lean in close and tap the door lightly with one knuckle. It’s late. I know it’s stupid. But Iwantto behere.

I hear her shuffle to the door, and it shakes a little when, I assume, she presses her eye to the peephole. The lockclacks, then she slowly pulls the door open.

“Thought you would’ve been sick of me by now,” she says, a light smile on her face. She’s hiding something behind her back, and I’m tempted to peer over her shoulder to see what it is, but I’m distracted by the rest of her.

Her hair’s wet, pulled back, ends of her ponytail dripping onto the shoulder of the souvenir shirt she’s wearing. I can’t help but scope her out, eyes drawn to her bare, skinny legs in very loose-fitting souvenir boxer shorts. She shaved. But even if she hadn’t, I’d probably still be checking her out.

I hold the fast-food bag up by my face. “You like your meat, right?”

She bites her bottom lip, eyebrows pulling in slightly as she slowly takes the hand hidden behind her back out in front for me to see. She’s got a half-eaten drumstick, skin and grease covering her thumb and forefinger. I laugh and hang my head.

“That answers that question.” I push off the doorframe I’m leaning against. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Did you get me a burger?”

“Well, yeah…”

She pulls on my sleeve and tugs me inside, letting the door swing shut behind me. “I still want it.”

I watch her cute little ass as she walks in front of me, past the large assortment tray of room service food.

“You definitely like your meat,” I say, eyeing the chicken wings and cocktail wienies.

“I have a week’s worth of meals to catch up on.” She grabs the bag from my hand and flops down against the pillows on her bed. “No salads this time.”

“I’m joining you.”

The paper around the burgers crinkles as she breaks into them. “Just keep your paws off the cookies.”

“I’m not gonna agree to that.” I grin and yank my hoodie over my head, the black T-shirt I have underneath rising a bit with it. The crinkling stops, and I figure she dove mouth-first into that burger, but when I catch her eyes, she’s only halfway through opening the wrapping, her gaze on my torso. It’s a small achievement, and hell, I don’t even know if she’s checking out the goods or not, but I’m gonna take it. I make my pecs dance, which pulls her out of her daze.

“Bring over the chicken,” she says, eyes darting down to her burger. I toss my hoodie in the closet, wrap my hand around the cart, and just roll the whole thing next to the bed. Then I flop down next to her, kicking my shoes and socks off.

“You know I’m hungry when even your smelly feet can’t deter me,” she says, then takes a heaping bite from her burger.

---