“Sorry, they don’t have private rooms here,” he says, holding the seat out for me, like a gentleman. “I guess that would’ve kinda defeated the purpose, though, given that we’re here to be photographed.”
He frowns as he says it. He has a baseball cap crammed low over his eyes, and his shoulders are hunched defensively as he sits down opposite me. He doesnotlook like a man who wants to be photographed. He seems almost as on edge as I am, actually.
Well. Isn’t thisfun?
“Is that why you picked this place?” I ask, fiddling nervously with the paper napkin in front of me. “So that plenty of people will see us? Because I think it’s working, if so.”
I might have had my eyes closed as I walked past the lobster tank, but when I opened them again, it was impossible to miss the ripple of excitement that passed through the restaurant as Jett and I were shown to our table. Angelinos as a group are generally too cool to make a fuss over celebrities, but, then again, Jett Carter isn’t just any old celebrity, and although no one’s been brave enough to approach us, I can practicallysenseall the cellphones that are pointed at our table right now.
Who needs paparazzi when you have Instagram and TikTok?
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to arrange myself in the most photogenic way I can manage. Mum always told me my left side was my best side (“If only your face was more symmetrical, Alexandra,” she once sighed. “You’d be really quite stunning.”), but it’s my right side that’s facing the restaurant, and I know that unless I can somehow manage to keep this rictus grin plastered to my face, my resting bitch face will take over, and I’ll look like Voldemort, basically.
God, this is stressful.
And we haven’t even got to the bit with the crabs yet.
“It’s why Asher picked it, yes.” Jett is scanning the menu, holding it so it covers his face. “If we’d gone to one of the places I usually hang out, no one would ever have known about. All those places are too private. That’s why I like them.”
“I do kinda like places like this,” though, he says, lowering it just enough for him to look me in the eye. “People don’t expect to see me in a place like The Crab Shack, so if they do see me, they assume they’ve got it wrong, and I’m just a lookalike or something.”
“Like hiding in plain sight,” I say, nodding. “Clever.”
“I think most actors are just hiding in plain sight,” Jett says, so quietly that I have to lean closer to hear him. “Maybe that’s why we do it. Making a living by pretending to be someone else all the time. It makes it easier to avoid having to be yourself.”
Jett’s hand comes up to reflexively stroke at his chin, almost as if he thinks the beard is still there, and my fingers pause in the act of anxiously ripping up my napkin. I have a feeling he’s just shared something important with me, and I’m not quite sure how to respond to it.
Fortunately for me, though, I don’t have to, because, just as I’m opening my mouth to see what kind of nonsense will come spilling out of it, the server appears to take our drinks order, and she’s so determined to make sure Jett notices her that she positions herself right in front of me, her ass level with my face. Once she’s taken his order, Jett has to call her back to remind her to take mine, too, and let me just tell you that if looks could kill, I’d be as dead as the crabs we’re about to eat.
Totryto eat.
I’ve been trying my hardest not to look too closely at the tables around us as we sit here, but I know perfectly well I’m in the presence of The Enemy.
ZOMBIECRABSZOMBIECRABSZOMBIECRABS
Maybe it’ll be okay, though.
Maybe this is as close as I’ll ever have to get to them?
Or… maybe not. Because what are the odds of Jett bringing me to The Crab Shack and thennotordering the crab?
“Um, would you excuse me?” I mutter, standing up so quickly I almost knock the table over. “I just need to use the restroom.”
What feels like dozens of pairs of eyes follow me with undisguised interest as I clatter my way across the room to the door on the other side, then follow me all the way back again when that door turns out to lead to the kitchen, and I have to turn on my heel and head back in the direction I just came in.
“Why don’t you just order for us both?” I say brightly as I pass our table for a second time. “Just get me a salad. I’m not that hungry, anyway.”
Finally, I find the door to the restrooms, heaving a sigh of relief as I slam it closed behind me.
I’m safe. For now.
I’m just going to stay here for five minutes. Okay, six. Seven at the most. Just long enough to pull myself together and prepare to meet my nemesis.
I can do this.
More importantly, Ihaveto do this. I signed the contract. And I’m here now. Photos have been taken, receipts have been got. I can’t exactly run out on this date now, just because of a stupid phobia that started when I was five years old.
Iwilldo this, then. I will. In approximately eight minutes’ time.
