My heart skips at the implication, but then he turns to toast the rest of the table. When he gets to Amy, his arm slides around her shoulders to pull her into the celebration, and something uncomfortable twists in my stomach.
As the excitement dies down and people settle their tabs, the crowd thins out. I'm digging through my purse for my wallet when Mason appears beside me.
“Hey,” he says, his voice quieter now that we're not competing anymore. “That was really fun. Thanks for helping us absolutely crush the competition.”
“It was fun,” I admit, surprised by how natural this conversation feels. “Your teammates are really nice.”
“They liked you, too. You'll have to come back soon.”
“Anytime,” I say, surprised by how natural this feels now.
He pulls out his phone. “Let me get your number. I'll text you about tennis.”
After we exchange numbers, he gives me a quick hug goodbye, and then he's gone, walking out with Amy and a few others from his group.
“So?” Natalie appears beside me as we head toward the door, her purse slung over her shoulder. “How was that? You looked like you actually had fun instead of analyzing everything.”
“It was good, I think. Great, actually.” I push open the door, and we step out into the cool night air. “He asked me to play tennis with him.”
“Mm-hmm.” There's something in her tone that makes me look at her sideways.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I'm glad you had a good time.” But she's got that expression she gets when she's thinking something she's not ready to share yet.
For the first time in months, I actually had a normal conversation with Mason without completely embarrassing myself. I didn't freeze up, I contributed to the team, and I even made him laugh a couple of times. That has to count for something.
But then there was that whole thing about the premieres. I hope he's not one of those guys who's more interested in what I can do for him than who I am. But maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe he was just making conversation.
Which is fine. It's progress. It's just different from what I imagined.
twenty-two
. . .
Stella
I can hearthe TV playing softly through Brandon's door as I fish my key out of my purse. When I let myself in, I find him sprawled on his couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt, with a half-empty beer on the coffee table and what looks like takeout containers from some burger place scattered around him.
“Hey,” he says, muting the TV and sitting up when he sees me. “How did it go? You're back earlier than I expected.”
“It was fine,” I say, dropping my purse by the door and settling onto the couch beside him. The smell of fries and whatever burger he ordered makes my stomach rumble, reminding me that I barely touched the appetizers at trivia. Without thinking, I reach over and steal a handful of fries from his container.
“Just fine?” He watches as I chew, and amusement flickers across his face. “That doesn't sound like the ringing endorsement I was expecting.”
With a shrug, I reach for more fries. “It was good. I didn't embarrass myself, which feels like a win. Mason was nice. His coworkers were friendly. I actually had fun once I stopped overthinking everything.”
“But?” There's something in his tone that suggests he's picking up on my less-than-enthusiastic summary.
“But nothing. It was exactly what it was supposed to be.” I pause, then remember why I was so eager to get back here. “Oh, before we get into all that, I have something for you.”
I reach for my laptop bag and pull out both my computer and a folder thick with printed pages. “I was hoping to show you this before I left, but you were still on set when I had to go.”
Brandon's eyebrows lift with curiosity as I open my laptop and start spreading papers across his coffee table, pushing aside his food to make room. “You've been busy,” he says.
“I told you I'd help with your career transition, and I meant it.” I open the folder and spread out several sheets of paper on his coffee table. “I've been researching, and Brandon, there are so many opportunities for someone with your experience.”
He settles in next to me, close enough that I catch his familiar scent.
