Page 55 of Romance Is Dead

Shoot. I’d forgotten we’d made plans the night before—my penance for cutting our time at the bar short. This was going to significantly interfere with my intention to spend the evening hiding from the world.

Another insistent knock. “Come on,” she called out. “I’m starving.”

I swung the door open. “You didn’t have to bring food.”

“I know you haven’t eaten.” She pushed her way into the room. “So yes, I did.”

As the scent of fresh French fries permeated the room, I happily closed the door and followed Mara to the kitchenette. Despite my plans to lie low for the evening, it wasn’t Mara I’d been trying to hide from. Teddy had texted me as soon as he’d finished filming, suggesting we meet to rehearse later. Panicking, I’d told him I was having dinner at my dad’s cabin, thereby banishing myself to my room for the night. Knowing he was just down the hall, I couldn’t help but wonder what would be happening right now if I’d agreed.

“Today was interesting.” Mara started unpacking the bag, setting brown-paper-wrapped sandwiches and cardboard cones of fries on the table. “Are you ok?”

No, but she didn’t need to know that.

“What do you mean?” I asked, rustling through the cabinet for some plates.

Mara’s hand froze in mid-air, holding a dip container of garlic aioli. “Everyone thinking you spread the rumor about Trevor’s murder? Natasha putting the fear of God in everyone? The general air of doom and misery?”

“Oh! Yeah.” I’d been so wrapped up fantasizing about Teddy’s mouth that I’d forgotten about the drama du jour. “Yeah, it was a hard day.” I succeeded in finding the plates and grabbed some forks, hoping Mara wouldn’t notice my stumble.

She did. Of course she did.

“Hang on, what did you think I was talking about?”

My cheeks burned.

Mara tucked a fist onto her hip. “Quinnberly Marie.” She tried one of her fries. “Ugh, this is cold.” She moved toward the microwave.

The microwave that had our list of suspects resting on top of it.

“Wait!”

Mara quirked an eyebrow. “Do you not want me to warm up the fries? I mean, I know they’re not as good reheated, but. . .”

“Um.” My mind spun, trying to think of something—anything—that would get her away from seeing that list.

“Teddy kissed me today,” I finally blurted. I might not want to talk about it, but I wanted her discovering our investigation even less.

It worked.

Mara screeched at such a high decibel, I was sure someone would call the police, convinced another murder had taken place. Abandoning the French fries on the table, she dragged me over to the couch, plunking both of us down on the cushions.

“Oh my God, oh my God! You have to tell me everything.”

“Don’t get excited, it didn’t mean anything.” But as I detailed the whole thing, from our rehearsal the night before to him following me out onto the back porch, I couldn’t help the grin that grew wider and wider on my face.

“You guys are totally in love.”

“We’re definitely not in love. And it’s definitely not happening again.”

“And why not?” She looked offended at the mere suggestion.

“Be serious. Why would I want any ties to LA? I’m leaving. And even if I wasn’t, you know I don’t date actors. Look what’s happened to me in the past. Look what happened to you!”

At this, Mara looked down, picking at her fingernails.

I reached over and squeezed her knee. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

“It’s fine.”

---