Page 58 of The Publicity Stunt
I’ve paired my blue pencil skirt with a blue blazer and my shortest heels. Having been a publicist for the past few years, I knew I wasn’t going to get the time to go home and change for our “not-date.” Hollywood doesn’t believe in the nine-to-five. So instead, I woke up an hour early and ravaged my closet for something that screams formal, yet sexy.
Again, this is not a date.
“Thanks. You look nice too.” He’s wearing a navy-blue dress jacket and a white cotton T-shirt with the Superman logo on it. Out of all the things that have happened in the past two days, of course, that’s the one that makes my brain gowhat the fuck.
“You’re staring again,” he says.
“Why are you wearing that?”
This makes him laugh and an equally exasperated smile quirks my mouth. “Give me some credit, Chere,” he says. “I’ve matured. I’m not the snob who cares about the whole Marvel versus DC thing anymore.”
There’s not a single cell in my body that believes that bullshit statement.
“Also, I like telling you not to stare at me.” He shrugs, giving me Smile Number Eight.
Heat flashes across my neck. The glowing neon-blue MILLER LITE sign hanging to our left transforms his mussed-up brown hair into jet black, and I prop my head on my hand. “How’s your arm?”
“It’s been better,” he says, nodding slowly. “How was work?”
“Hectic.” I pick up the glass of water in front of me and take a huge sip.
Parker’s leg bumps into mine under the table and I look up. With his hazel gaze trickling down my face like warm honey, he says, “Thanks for agreeing to this tonight.”
This.I chew on that word for a bit. We’re not strangers. We’re a little less than friends. I guess “this” is an accurate description of us at the moment.
“Of course. I wanted to see you too.”
I see the exact moment those words reach his ears. A roll of his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he suppresses his ninth smile. The soft rise and fall of his chest. A normal person wouldn’t notice these things about Parker. But I do. I always have.
Only now I wish I didn’t, because all it does is remind me of how close we used to be. How much we’ve seen of each other. How much of me I let him see. The happy, the sad, the messy. The heartbreak. He was there for all of it.
“April?” Parker says.
I raise my eyebrows. “Mm-hm?”
His eyes sweep over my face as he leans forward, and he rests his elbows on the edge of the table. “I mean it. Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t easy.”
He’s right. It isn’t easy. But I never expected it to be. “Meeting an ex-boyfriend never is.”
“Is that what I am?” Parker leans forward, his hand resting on the edge of table. I can’t help but notice the faint bruising over his knuckles. “An ex-boyfriend?”
“Aren’t you?” My voice is thick and there’s a heaviness in the center of my stomach. A paperweight, holding it down. Deep down, I’m well aware that Parker is more than just an ex-boyfriend. He’s my best friend, my soulmate, and probably everything in between.
“Chere, I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but don’t insult me like that.” Smile Number Ten tugs at the corner of his mouth and he says, “I’m the ex-boyfriend.”
I roll my eyes, relieved he still has the same cocky sense of humor I used to love so much. The paperweight starts to disintegrate. I pick up the menu and drag my eyes down to the cocktail section. “Have you decided on a drink?” I ask.
“Nah, not yet,” he says. “You?”
“Same.”
“They don’t have your usual?” Parker perks up. “Twenty shots of tequila with a side of bad decisions?”
“Not what I meant. These drinks have no descriptions. How am I supposed to know what a Corpse Reviver is? Or a … Betty’s Ecstasy?”
“Get both.”
I shoot him a look.
