Page 84 of You and Me, For Real
“She is.”
She spins toward me. “But did you ever consider how good we’d be together?”
The question takes me by surprise, and I’m not sure how to answer it. We’ve known each other for our entire adult lives and most of our teen years. She was my first kiss, for crying out loud. I’d be lying if I said I never thought about the two of us together. “At one point, I did, maybe.”
“What changed?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. We grew up. We both changed.” Her—diving deeper into the Hollywood schemes. And me—trying to distance myself from them.
“What if we got to know each other better—on a deeper level?”
“What difference would it make?”
“It’d give us a chance.” She steps closer. “We’ve known each other for years. The world loves us together. We’re goodtogether. You’ve got to admit there’s a certain level of chemistry between us.”
Sure, we have great on-screen chemistry, but I chalk that up to our excellent acting skills. Maybe that’s where her confusion stems from. There was never arealus, just the roles we played together.
“That’s just on-screen.” I step back.
“It could be off-screen, too. If you wanted.” She presses forward.
“I’m sorry, Scarlet. I want to explore a relationship with Ashton.”
Hurt fills her eyes.
I look away, unable to handle the sight of causing her pain, but knowing this is for the best. I scratch my neck, adjusting my collar.
“Look, I really need to get back to the party. Ashton doesn’t know anyone here. I’ll see you out there, okay?”
“Sure.” Her voice cracks. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I squeeze her hand once before walking out the door, hoping I let her down easily enough and that this conversation won’t cost me my future of working with Wesley.
23
ASHTON
So. Many. People.
My heart hammers against my chest, its rhythm banging in my eardrums. My boss babe bravado diminishes.
There’s got to be at least a hundred people here. A small DJ booth is set up off to the side of the elevated terrace, complemented by flashing lights moving across the pool and adjacent yard. There’s a bar next to the pool with staff serving drinks. An expansive table sits poolside with an ice sculpture depicting a dog sitting on his hind legs, begging for a treat. The birthday boy, Ranger, no doubt.
The sight is all too similar to my disastrous thirteenth birthday party. It, too, had been an epic party fit for any teenage princess, at least, from the outside. Mom had pulled out all the stops—an expensive location, a massive guest list, loads of elaborate decorations, and ample food—all costing a fortune. The perfect content to elevate our show to viral status. Though I hadn’t asked for any of it.
I lurk in the shadows, off to the side of the back porch, unsure of where to go or what to do. Panic creeps up my throat.One thing I do know is I don’t want to be standing here when America’s Greatest Hollywood Couple reemerges from their private chat to greet friends, pick up puppies, and kissing each of them. Pretend or not, it’s harder than I thought to see them together, especially knowing Griffin’s feelings toward me.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I can totally do this.
I just need a little breather first.
I carefully weave through the crowd. Both Roxy and Teddy stop to sniff and greet other dogs. I smile at guests but mostly study their dogs with intense focus to avoid too much eye contact.
I reach my goal, a set of secluded lounge chairs arranged in a circle around a stone fire pit. The area is segregated from the party by some manicured hedges, though low enough I can still observe everything from a comfortable distance. I sit, feeling the throb of my ankle anew, wishing I had thought to bring some Motrin. I elevate it on the chaise lounge. The pain is tolerable so long as I remain seated.
Teddy climbs onto the lounge next to me, and Roxy sits by my side on the ground. A server wearing a full tux comes around with a platter of hors d’oeuvres—mostly veggies, fruits, and cheese cut into dog bone shapes. I snatch a couple.
“Thank you.”
