Page 43 of Directing You
“Oh, Iwillorder for you.” She put her finger in the air. “Hey, Mark! Can we get a pain killer and another strawberry daiquiri for me?”
“You got it, beautiful.” The bartender, Mark apparently, winked at Rosa from across the bar, and the sight caused a weird twisting and roiling feeling in my stomach.
“The fact that you already know the bartender bynameis maybe a sign you’ve had too much.”
“Or,” she said, quirking her brow at me, “the fact that youdon’tknow his name is a sign that you haven’t had enough.”
“Uhhh, I don’t think your logic checks out—” I laughed all the same. Rosa had that effect on me. Things just felt easy around her. My laugh, my smile, the conversation… easy.
“And look,” she continued, slurping the last of her drink through the straw. “Not for nothing, but these last few hours have been really stressful. Planning a wedding—even an elopement with only four people—on a moment’s notice is fucking intense.”
Well, that was for sure. Rosa and I had driven to Atlantic City early in order to arrange the last-minute wedding, while Hazel and Reid were finishing up the opening night of their show.
“We pulled it off, though.”
I grinned down at her as she offered me a fist bump, which I accepted by tapping my own fisted hand to hers. “Hell yeah, we did,” she said. “Best friends for the win.”
After a few minutes, Mark came by with our drinks and a cocktail napkin with his name and number scribbled onto it. “Here you go, gorgeous.”
It took everything inside of me not to growl—literally growl at the guy. I had no right to feel protective of her. I had no right to stand in the way of a guy trying to give her his number… Rosa wasn’t mine. But not for lack of trying on my part. Though, she’d never given me a straight answer as to why she said no… not that she owed me that. After asking her out twice, and getting rejected twice, I backed off. But remained her friend, deep down secretly wishing and hoping she’d change her mind and askmeout for once.
I winced, clearing my throat, and nudged the napkin with Mark’s phone number toward her. “Looks like you caught his eye.”
Her nose scrunched and she shrugged. “I’m not interested in him. I’m not sure what’s the kinder way to handle it… take the number and never call him? Or leave his number on the bar so that he knows my intentions.”
Don’t take the number… don’t take the fucking number…if she had his number, at any moment she could change her mind and booty call him, and since we had adjoining hotel rooms… I was pretty sure I’d hear every fucking moan, which would probably kill me. I didn’t want to hear her being pleasured by any man other than me tonight.
“Can I ask you something… something that I hope isn’t disrespectful?”
Her eyebrows tightened in the center of her face as curiosity twisted her features. “Okay…”
“You and me… you always said it would be a bad idea. Why?”
Her expression softened and she tucked her wildly curly hair behind her ear. “Because…” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I would ruin you, Noah Tripp.” Her expression became suddenly solemn, as though this wasn’t sarcasm or playful banter… but something she truly believed. The salty sea breeze caught her words, nearly floating them out to the ocean.
“I highly doubt that,” I said.
“You have fame. And a reputation to uphold. You have people and a team.” Her gaze drifted to my mouth and just knowing that her attention was there on my lips caused my pulse to quicken. The effect of her stare so potent, it was almost like a caress on my skin.
“What does that have to do with us?”
She sighed, dragging her gaze away from my mouth—my face. The aftershocks of her attention were still palpable and left gooseflesh on my skin.
“You know my dad’s a senator. I grew up in the public eye…being scrutinized by media for every little thing I did or didn’t do. My rebellious teenage years almost cost my father the election. I felt terrible and guilty and… I just… I never want that kind of life again.”
I swallowed hard. Well, shit. My fame had always gotten me so far in life. So much of what I had could be credited to it… it never occurred to me that my fame was the one thing keeping Rosa and me apart.
She played with her straw, dipping it in and out of her daiquiri. “And ifyou’rehappy with your life, I don’t want to make you feel bad for your success and choices, Noah.” She paused, glancing at me, her eyes dark, glistening orbs in the low-light of the bar. “You are happy, right? Shitty beer aside.”
“Yeah,” I answered automatically. And it was the truth. Iwashappy. Mostly. I didn’t always love the fame, but I loved my job, I loved acting. And while being a public figure could get kind of tiresome, it also came with the territory. I didn’t think I’d change it for anything.
“Good,” Rosa said. A pinch in her eyes told me there was more to that response beneath the single word she spoke.
“So… we’re friends, right?” I asked, the word souring in my mouth like a bite of lemon.
I watched as her smile dropped for only a moment before she quickly plastered it back on.
She lowered her lips to the straw, taking another big gulp. How many drinks had she had tonight? Three? Four? She lifted a delicate hand and dragged her fingernail down my jaw and across my bottom lip. It was intentional… seductive… and as she lowered the finger away, I licked my bottom lip as though I could taste the remnants of her touch.
