“I have more muscles than you,” I point out and I sound petulant to my own ears.
“So?” he scoffs. “It’s about personality, not build.”
His words make me feel guilty for being so superficial. I shouldn’t be basing real life on anime. “This whole conversation is horribly hetronormative,” I inform him regally. Refusing to be outdone.
He huffs at me and pours himself another glass of wine. I hadn’t even noticed the ice bucket holding the bottle was attached to the side of the table.
“Are you gay?” I hear myself ask as the question escapes my brain-to-mouth filter.
“None of your fucking business!” he snaps, and he is right, it’s really not. I can’t help feeling frustrated by his answer though. I want to know. I need to know if he fancies me. It’s clear he doesn’t like me, but the two don’t have to go together. As my feelings for him clearly demonstrate.
A tap on the window makes me jump out of my skin. I turn to the glass and see Julie on the other side of it. She grins and waves.
“Hi, Julie!” I say cheerily.
I’m not sure if she can hear me but she can probably tell what I’m saying by the shape of my lips. I hope she is swooning because I called her by her name.
“You know her?” asks Mackenzie, and he sounds surprised.
Julie scoots away from the window and scurries across the road, joining a small gaggle of people, just as Mackenzie’s security man takes up post under our window. Julie’s group look like they are fans too. This is great, exactly what we wanted.
“My first stalker,” I tell him proudly.
His eyes widen. “That’s not something to joke about.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not. Do you have personal security?”
He actually looks concerned for me. It’s sweet and sets off stupid butterflies in my gut. I just about manage to shake my head to reply to him.
“I’ll give you some recommendations and numbers,” he says. “The production company should foot some of the bill while you are under contract to them.”
That makes me bristle a little. He is assuming I can’t afford it. I have no idea how much bodyguards cost but it can’t be cheap. I hate that he is probably right.
“Thanks,” I murmur and take a sip of my drink.
I don’t know how to handle pleasant Mackenzie. He may be making digs about my lack of wealth but this is still the nicest he has ever been to me. It’s disconcerting.
“What do you think about Taylor Swift’s latest song?” I blurt, grasping for the first change of topic that springs to mind. It’s a horrible choice. He probably knows her.
To my surprise, his eyes light up and he launches into an intelligent analysis. He clearly knows his stuff and I wonder if he has plans to break into the music industry. He would totally rock it.
The conversation soon dries up as I know nothing about music, except that I like to listen to it. The silence feels harsh after he was actually talking. I’m saved for a moment by our food being served. Then I steer the conversation to movies. It’s the one topic I can talk endlessly about. I’m not surprised to discover he is a film buff too. It is our industry after all. But I am surprised to discover we have almost the exact same taste.
The conversation rolls effortlessly for an hour, until we have finished our meal and it’s nearly time to go.
“Die Hard?” I ask.
He laughs. “Absolutely a Christmas film.”
I grin in delight. I love his answer. I love hearing his laugh. I love that I made him laugh. Everything feels wonderful.
The server brings the bill over. I raise an eyebrow at Mackenzie. He tilts his head at me.
“Half,” he offers.
I chuckle in agreement.
