Page 10 of Off Script
She hit that nail on the head with that observation. “Exactly. How was your night? Hopefully more fun than mine.”
“It was fun! We got sushi for dinner, but it was cheap sushi since we’re young and poor. Now I’m praying that we don’t get food poisoning. Especially since our apartment only has one bathroom. That happened one time in college. It was gross, and I promised Harper that I would never speak of it again. So, forget I mentioned it." She pauses to take a breath before quickly continuing, "Anyway, after dinner, we went dancing and then my roommate met a guy, Philip. He’s the guy who answered the phone, by the way. Obviously, since he came home with her that means that he and Harper hit it off."
“Okay, wow.” My smile deepens as I listen to her ramblings, especially when she explains who the dude is who answered the phone. I can’t help myself. I want to know. “What about you? Did you have any luck with the guys tonight?”
“Not tonight," Carlisle admits, before adding, “How ‘bout you? Any luck with the ladies?”
I like that she returned my question. Perhaps she's as intrigued by me as I am by her.
“Nope. You see, I talked to this feisty girl on the phone earlier today, and I couldn’t get my mind off her.”
“What a coincidence! I, too, was preoccupied by a phone call that I received today,” she admits softly. "You know those extended car warranty phone calls really stick with you."
I bark out a laugh. Carlisle keeps me on my toes.
"Kidding, kidding. You were the best wrong number I've ever gotten."
I wait a bit, allowing the silence to stretch, hoping that she’ll tell me more, but she doesn’t.
“It’s weird, don’t you think? I mean, we don’t know each other at all, but I couldn’t stop myself from calling you again.”
She pauses. “Well, if you’re weird, then I’m weird too, Brent, because I'm glad you called again.”
Her admission calms me, but I’m still hesitant to say much else. She yawns and her breathing evens out, becoming slower and louder.
“Carlisle?” I wait a few moments before repeating her name, but I still don’t get a response.
Damn, I think she passed out.
That isn’t how I foresaw our conversation ending, but it does give me a reason to call her again tomorrow just to wrap things up between us. A proper goodbye.
Yeah, right.
4
Ben
Ichitchat politely with the young woman in front of me in line at my favorite local coffee shop. Since our coffee orders were ready at the same time, I hold the door for her as she exits, but when we step outside, we're greeted by a flurry of camera clicks and people calling my name.
Fuck me.
Several paparazzi are lying in wait. The woman stands frozen, stunned by the sudden onslaught of attention.
"Sorry about this," I mutter as I place a hand on her back, gently propelling her forward and encouraging her to leave quickly. My touch seems to incentivize her. Over her shoulder, she smiles briefly at me before jumping into an old yellow Jeep.
Heeding my own advice, I adopt a neutral expression and hurry to my car, ignoring the photographers' questions.
There are only a few of them, maybe five or six, but even that number is surprising. I’m by myself grabbing a freaking cup of coffee early on a Sunday morning. There’s nothing salacious about what I’m doing except that it’smedoing it.
My best guess is that because of the mounting publicity surrounding my upcoming films, the price that tabloids will pay forphotographs of me has already skyrocketed. When the demand increases, so too do the number of paparazzi trying to cash in. I'll have even less privacy than usual, which is annoying.
On my drive home, I call my personal assistant to check in.
And to give her hell about the prank she played on Friday. The little shit.
“Joanna, hey. Wanted to say thanks so much for giving me that interior designer’s number. Really appreciated that.”
“C’mon, that was funny,” she cackles, the glee evident in her voice. “I wish I could have been there to witness it! Sexiest Person of the Year calling a sex hotline!”
